17437/HUNGER: I Believe We Have Your Duck

HUNGER: I Believe We Have Your Duck
Date of Scene:	24 March 2024
Location:	Museum World, Gliese 581, Milky Way Galaxy
Synopsis:	The X-Men visit the strange museum of the Collector and arrange a ceasefire ... in exchange for a favor that will take them to places even stranger still.
Cast of Characters:	Scott Summers, Emma Frost, Rogue, Tabitha Smith, Jean Grey, Kitty Pryde, Ruth Aldine, Roberto da Costa

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Scott Summers has posed:
The technically-minded members of the X-Men had been examining the strange pod they'd recovered Howard the Duck from for the last few weeks. Some cross-referencing with some (albeit antiquated) databases from the Shi'ar Empire had enabled them to work out from whence it came. The bad news? It came from 20.5 light years away.

"Our understanding is that the man responsible for sending those hunters after Howard is an alien known as Taneleer Tivan - AKA the Collector. What we can gather from the Shi'ar is that he's part of a group they call -- hm ... "

The SR-X is en route. The Blackbird variant capable of space travel moves, while Scott stands in the rear compartment with one hand raised to keep himself steady. He's summoned everyone from the crew quarters and various other duties aboard the much larger ship for the briefing, and he currently looks at his tablet with a frown.

" ... something in Shi'ar we haven't had translated. Anyway, they give them a wide berth. Remember, we're not here to start interstellar incidents. We just want to find out what this guy wanted with Howard. If he's responsible for bringing him here, then maybe he knows a way we can get him back."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would make a face. "Lovely. What sort of an off-planetary imbecille refers to themself by such a thing? We're dealing with a fetishist, aren't we?" Emma's use of that particular tone probably is lending itself to some traumas to the others that are along with them.

"Scott, anyone that's willing to cover the -expense- of tracking someone through the galaxy, and then sufficient mercenaries to pursue them with orders to retrieve them alive is putting out a considerable amount of resources, even by the standards of those whom are obscenely wealthy such as myself and Mister Worthington. There's -going- to be an incident over this. A lunatic that cares enough to send bounty hunters after our dear Howard clearly won't pause because we asked him nicely."

Rogue has posed:
The good thing about this Blackbird is that it is larger than the one kept at the base back in Westchester. It has more high tech features too.

But really, Rogue just likes having a place to chill out that isn't in the cockpit or the seating area behind it. AS such, she's currently in her black and green space suit, but she's laying on her bunk built in to the bulkhead like out of an ALIENS movie. She's got her phone in her hand, and is scrolling through a book she'd been reading the past few days. With a bit of music playing in her little alcove, she's dancing her booted feet, crossed at the ankles, to the beat of the tune, when the call to the cockpit comes in. With a small grumble, she slips her legs off to drop booted feet on to deck plates, and begins to head toward the fore of the ship.

When she reaches the cockpit, Rogue finds a small seat to settle in to, her eyes looking around to ascertain the situation at-hand, but she's otherwise quiet for now. Everyone knows she hates space, but at least she doesn't complain about it as much as she used to... right?

Tabitha Smith has posed:
Tabby kicks back on the flight out. Even with fancy warp drives and faster than light, it's still a long ass flight. At least she brought snacks. Past tense, since by now they've all gone with some passing around.

The long haired blonde in her two piece black and yellow biker styled uniform. Most of the yellow on the jacket and boots where it covers padding. Hair in a pony tail and red wayfarers on her nose. A hint of earpieces in playing music every so often.

But as they start getting all exposition at Scott's request, she at least kills the Def Leppard she was listening too. "So like dude calls himself the collector. Anyone wanna bet we see like piles of space newspapers stacked in collapsed piles. Space Hoarders and stuff! God that'd suck for Howard."

Jean Grey has posed:
The SR-X has made only a handful of such journeys since it's development, a process itself held up behind complicated space politics and treaties.

Thus, while still very much in that Honeymoon phase of proper space adventuring, any trip out into the dark void of space is the sort of important event that Jean isn't going to sleep in on. And in this case, since their situation with Howard - however outwardly humorous - has gone as far to cause an attack on the school itself, one that put the lives of students and teachers alike in danger? Yeah, she definitely has a few choice words for whoever was behind it.

Presently, Jean is up front in the cockpit. Although far from an expert, they don't exactly have a lot of experts anyway, and she does know how to fly the thing, credited both to experience with the original Blackbird and a few of their prior space adventures, limited although those have been. Those skill-downloads are handy.

And while she's not down in the briefing room, it's only because she doesn't need to be when she can 'teleconference' in. Get it?

<<We can expect trouble, but that doesn't mean we go about things recklessly. Out here, we're always on someone else's turf, by definition, and very likely to be outnumbered quickly even if we can theoretically overpower some situation. So understanding the rules is always the first step.>>

In the meantime, Rogue comes to join her, and she looks back with a grin. "Enjoying the ride?" Space-dislike means space-teasing!

Kitty Pryde has posed:
Kitty Pryde did a lot of work on analyzing the pod's systems and correlating what was found with the information they had from the Shi'ar.

Now she's sitting in one of the seats listening to Scott. "Maybe he'd take another duck in exchange. A nice mallard. Or, what's the name of those really awesomely colored Asian ones? I mean, they probably wouldn't smell quite so much like cigar smoke. Maybe he'll go for it?" she suggests in a lighthearted tone.

Emma's concern over how likely they are to sway this 'Collector' turns Kitty's attention to her. "Who knows. Maybe if you show him enough cleavage..." she says, trailing off the catty comment there.

Ruth Aldine has posed:
Ruth Aldine had joined the group at her own request, which could indicate that she wants to go on a trip to space or something way worse. It's a total crap shoot, folks!

Ruth is not wearing a uniform, although there is an undergarment in neutral colors which is probably going to help in case there is decompression from a meteor or something. She is also wearing a hooded sweatshirt from the school stores. Hood currently down. Also, a cup of coffee.

"What's he collect? The Collector. Because, sets, that's what you collect," says Ruth, raising the cup to her lips and taking a generous slurp. "Categories and streaks and interlacing patterns. Sorry," Ruth tells Kitty, but doesn't clarify.

Roberto da Costa has posed:
Roberto Da Costa yawns, dressed in the jacket, pants and boots the X-Men wear as base line field operations outfit. He's been hogging the communications relay, and checking star charts, "I checked with my trading contacts, it's actually a pretty straightforward name. He's sort of a hoarder writ intergalactic, the planet is his, it's a museum cum display studios for his treasures. He likes the odd and unique." He waggles his hand at Emma's assessment, "He is a bit eccentric but not a full-on Hellfire guy, no one likes dealing with him but he pays well and is as trustworthy as... well, not unlike Earth black market types. He's going to do what he needs to come out on top. He will be focused on retrieving his property if we can't recompense him. He may even take the loss out on us... I was thinking we trade the ninja mutant." He offers a grin and a wink to Kitty.

Scott Summers has posed:
"The economy of the interstellar bounty hunting trade isn't one we know anything about," Scott says to Emma, his visor largely concealing any expression his eyes may otherwise reveal, "Though given our destination is an entire planet dedicated to displaying plundered treasures of any and all stripes, I think we can safely assume that we are dealing with a lunatic, Emma, yes. Well observed."

As Rogue comes from her dance recital to the cockpit, Scott glances up from his tablet to give her the sort of look reserved for acerbic math teachers: "Nice of you to join us, Rogue. Rations are on the table." Only for Rogue to continue on towards the cockpit, prompting a subtle shake of the X-Man's head.

That's right, Scott laid out a collection of various space-approved foodstuffs. That is to say, nothing with crumbly bits or parts that go floating away. Space food that was, it seems, available for purchase at the Starport. Some specially-processed yuxiang pork from the Chinese space program, some rehydratable shoyu from JAXA, and of course freeze-dried ice cream.

Cyclops clicks his tongue when the telepathic public address system sounds with Jean on the other end. He opts to speak his thoughts out loud for those present in the briefing, rather than making it a weird telepathic conference where they all stare at each other in silence with their eyebrows raised.

"He collects everything," he says in answer to Ruth, "As far as we can tell, he's not picky. We'll find out more when we arrive. Our initial recon suggests that the security system is passive and will only kick in if we cause trouble. So let's refrain from unsanctioned explosions."

He puts his tablet down while Roberto waxes lyrical about the nature of the Collector and his collecting. He doesn't add anything outright, instead reaching for one of the sealed foil packets on the table and tearing it open with his teeth to eat-drink the inside.

"Well, regardless, let's be careful and not assume he's operating on the same hierarchy of needs as us."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would smile over at Scott, "Lovely, darling. I do appreciate having my expertise acknowledged. And if currency isn't an issue, then we have to figure out his particular display of madness. I presume that it's fairly obvious." Space economics is still economics. She would sound rather flippant as 'he collects everything' is said and stated.

"If we're going to see the man, if it is one.. Then we'll need something to bargain with and offer. A reason why he has to pay us specific attention rather than delegating us to whatever legion of slaves he has on retainer." Emma's rather blatant in referring to anyone working for the man as that.

"WHy thank you dear, I didn't think you cared about that sort of thing." Emma snarks rather back at Kitty. "We'll need a reason to be able to.. Bargain."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue leans back in her seat, her phone slipped in to a pouch on her belt, her eyes looking over the cockpit interior, before she looks back to Jean. A small smirk graces her lips for a moment before she shakes her head, her white bangs gently flowing against the sides of her face whilst the rest of her hair is tied back. "Ya'll keep makin' me do this, so it gets a little easier, I guess. But I swear to ya, if we don't stop off at that weird space place we went to last time, with the funny stripper club, I'm gonna be cross with ya'll. I promised some people back home that I'd get pictures this time."

She glances back over her shoulder at Scott chiding her from further back in the ship, and she smirks lightly. "I'm just here to punch stuff!" She calls back to him, before her emerald eyes slip forward again. She sits with proper posture in the seat, back straight, knees together, hands upon her black suit covered legs. She purses her lips, staring out the forward viewport as she tries not to freak out like Marge Simpson forced on to a airliner.

It is challenging.

Tabitha Smith has posed:
Tabby snap points to Ruth when Cyke gives him an answer. "See hoarder! I bet we step in space cat litter bozes everywhere! Though if it's a museum. I wonder if they have a snack kiosk or something. When I was in space jail, a few inmates talked about something called Puffies. Like space Gummy Bears or something. Do we eaven have space money?" she asks aloud and hmms.

A brief look at Emma's cleavage earns a snicker at Kitty. "I bet if he's down, he'd rather something more organically grown. At least we have options there!" she jokes and joins in.

It's a low hanging fruit but sometimes that's where the best fruits are.

Jean gets a frown. "Even when bounty hunters land in our backyard? Not our own turf? Screw em, I'm gonna cherry bomb their waste reclamators!" What's a little vandalism?

Jean Grey has posed:
<<'Everything' sounds about right, although I'm going to assume, in practicality, it's a bit more exotic than that. A collectible's value is basically directly related to it's rarity... when your available supply is on the scale of multiple worlds. So I'm thinking less bottle caps and beanie babies, more... rare elements only found under stellar conditions, otherwise extinct species from destroyed planets, doomsday devices from the galaxy's worst and brightest. That sort of thing.>> Despite this bit of mental commentary, Jean is still willing to admit to her level of inexperience: <<But maybe, hopefully, I'm wrong. Maybe it's mostly stamps, and he just had a particular bill to pick with Howard.>>

As for what they'll do to them? <<I didn't say force is off the menu. But I think Emma has it right as far as first options go. Maybe we can figure out something else they want. We have our own ways of getting weird things, maybe there's a trade we can make.>>

Rogue settles in her seat, and Jean grins. "Sorry sugar." Yes, this is an intensional reversal of her own usual speech! "Wrong way by probably a couple dozen lightyears. But maybe we can swing by on the way back. Did seem like a fun place. See if the Starjammers are in, get Scott some family time..." Yeah that is a whole 'nother topic!

She checks the controls, where the computer is mappying their 'more dimensions than just the three most people know' course through hyperspace, the more-or-less consistent means by which anyone gets anywhere at useful speeds in space. A light is flashing, and she checks underneath it for a reading. Beep beep boop.

"Scott?" she actually calls this out back over her shoulder, instead of 'thinking' at him, for whatever reason. "I think we're coming up on the coordinates." She says 'I think' because she's about eighty percent sure that's what the display means. These things are hard!

Kitty Pryde has posed:
Emma's fairly reasoned reply that it might come to something like Kitty said, doesn't really make the younger woman feel any better about the situation. "I don't expect he'll be taking our Discover card, even with the Professor backing it," she says, sounding a measure of agreement with Emma about the difficulties they may have negotiating a payment if it comes to that.

Lockheed comes drifting through the cabin, the little extraterrestrial dragon handling the lack of gravity like a champ. His course takes him right to Kitty, who reaches up to catch him and settle him into her lap.

She leans over and gets some of the pork, feeding it to Lockheed. No pork for the Jewish girl of course. She gets herself a packet of the freeze-dried ice cream instead. "Had this from the souvenir shop at NASA," she says. "It's pretty good."

Ruth Aldine has posed:
There is a ghostlike whisper of psychic presence in the back of people's minds as Ruth briefly borrows their eyes to look at the food items. Mostly Tabitha, possibly since there's less risk of weird friction there. (Ruth's coffee has a sippy top and a soft-bodied bulb. The one place uncorrupted by Purifiers... *SPACE*)

"Everything? That's hoarding, though," Ruth says, though it seems to lead her to an inward train of thought. And indeed it's not a unique train. She rocks her head when Rogue discusses a space truck stop and space strip club combination, but doesn't speak up. A couple of moments later, she says tentatively, "Maybe we could"--

And then Ruth abruptly jerks to the side, pressing up against the lefthand third of her seat for a moment. Whatever it was seems to have come to nothing, as she slowly decompresses into the rest of the chair again. She reaches over for one of the space pork packets, pauses, and takes the one right next to it instead.

Scott Summers has posed:
"We can gauge what it is he wants," Scott tells Emma, still holding his space food package in one hand, "But I'm not willing to give too much away. We've proven we can keep Howard safe, and they have no idea where he is at the moment. I think Earth is proving a tougher nut to crack than a lot of the people out here suspected."

"Jean's right. Chances are trading won't be an option since we don't likely have anything that he'd want that we're also willing to give up."

When she calls to him, he reaches for a button to bring up the view outside the Blackbird on the internal monitors to show them what they're seeing from up in the driver's seat.

Up in the cockpit, the ship leaves faster-than-light travel to find itself in orbit of a planet very different from Earth. There are continents, yes. There are oceans, too, though they are all tinged a sinister-looking crimson in the light of the red dwarf sun. Perhaps most remarkable is how close it is to the system's star, the habitable zone being much narrower.

That, and the way the entire surface seems to be illuminated by artificial light. As though a city stretches across every square inch of dry land. All different kinds of buildings, from long and low hangars to glittering spires. An orbital traffic controller makes quick contact with the Blackbird, directing them to a space that must function as something like the official entrance.

Cyclops seems to purposefully ignore the talk of appendages both real and manufactured, staring pointedly at his tablet. He nods his head in response to Kitty, only weighing in to agree that the food is good. What better food than the kind made to deliver optimal nutrients in the simplest way? His space food finished, he folds the foil bag (yes, he folds his trash) and places it into a nearby receptacle.

"Alright, people. If you need to use the bathroom, do it now. I can't guarantee your digestive tract works the same as whoever built this place."

A wary look is given to Ruth, and he pauses by her chair to place a hand on the back of it and talk quietly enough to not address the whole group: "Feeling okay?"

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would glance over at Jean, "Well dear, I agree. But we're not exactly going to fight our way through the entire planet of collected doomsday machines by the cosmic hoarder." She would go to tap her fingers together. "And we're not going to have much luck with telepathy either. We need a negotiating level when we go to meet him or we'll get nothing. That means something to trade or hold over him. Beause if not then he'll send more abductors after our avian associate.. And probably take more of an interest in Earth as well. Pending the Shi'Ar deciding they find him annoying and sending the Imperial Guard to smite him." A woman could have dreams. But Lilandra probably had enough issues as it was.

And this is all -incredibly- gaudy. Emma's content to link up along with Jean and then back to Scott. <<Recall anything of note in that bird of your's, dear?>> Emma remembered just when Jean had started monologuing at times in the past. Maybe something this eclectic had left an impression?

She would go to let out a sigh. "And while we're at it, I do think we should hit up the gift shop. I'm sure it will have some unique souvenirs. Do we have some of the local currency?"

Rogue has posed:
Rogue sticks her tongue out at Jean for stealing her words. "Don't break my fragile sense of wonder about this stuff, Princess." She states, before she rises back up from her seat. She turns back toward where the others are, and with a little swishy step of her form moving within a fairly new bodysuit, Rogue strides in toward where the meeting is taking place. She moves around the others gathered there-in, and bends over in front of Scott's vision to reach past him for one of the ice cream packets, totally blocking his view, before she snags one, and leans back again.

Taking a step back, the Belle begins to unwrap the freeze dried ice cream, having never even had any of this before, she scrunches her brows down a bit at the sight of it inside the pouch. "I heard NASA never even used this stuff, and it's all just a marketing ploy..." She grumbly states before taking a bite of the chocolate side of the contents.

When she hears the bathroom commentary, she raises her dark brows up in surprise for a moment. "Oh come on--" she says with regard to that topic of warning. "Alien bathrooms? Nobody said anything about alien bathrooms..."

With a huff, she turns around and grumble stomps her way back toward the center of the jet's interior.

Tabitha Smith has posed:
"We'll find the space strip club on the way back Blindfold. I'll get you a space lapdance. I'm still trying to find space weed." Tabitha laments.

She's totally going to be using the SR-X's head though. She actually has had trouble using fancy space commodes.

"They have really funky pictograms on the ones in Space Jail, Rogue. Could not figure out how to flush or beam out or whatever they do. Everyone go so if we need to we can also empty the septic onto the place on our exit." What's a lot of vandalism.

So maybe she might be thankful for so many telepaths around, makes the mind linking easier. "Icecream in a tube, I'd have figured they'd have just used popsicles. Keep it solid." she ponders. When everyone else is ready to disembark, Tabby isn't far behind.

"Wonder if they have like a hap we can follow to find anything?" she asks and shrugs those shoulders.

Jean Grey has posed:
Jean plays by the rules, for the time being. Taking her directions from whatever orbital beacons, she directs the SR-X along the indicated course toward the planet. "Well, at least so far they're treating us like just another visitor. Probably the best we can hope for, relative anonymity." Down they go!

En route, Jean can't help but spend a few moments just watching the planet below. It's a sight utterly unlike Earth, and it reflects the unusual position they're all in, being able to experience something like this as a part of their common adventures. "Taking us in..."

Realistically, the SR-X does most of the work. The navigation computers are quite sophisticated, and can automate the landing procedures, although Jean monitors things as a back-up, up through the final stages. "Of course there are space bathrooms," she chides Rogue. "What do you think they do, use teleporters for that too?"

Fortunately, she handled food before settling down to pilot, so when they all get ready, she's able to handle the last of the piloting before getting up to join them in the final stages. "Alright folks. Let's see what's out here waiting for us."

Kitty Pryde has posed:
Kitty Pryde reaches over and gets another thing of pork for Lockheed. She must not have noticed Ruth bypassing the one cube, for Kitty gets it and feeds it to Lockheed. After a few seconds he spits it out. Thankfully there is gravity so it just lands on the floor. "I thought you liked that?" Kitty asks the dragon before sighing and setting him on the table as she rises and goes to get something to clean up the half-chewed pork.

After that is taken care of, she grabs some equipment. An extra tablet to take with her, something with a few extra modifications to it that she doesn't have on the normal systems she takes on missions with her. Something with enhancements based on what she's learned of the Shi'ar that would increase the chance of accessing alien systems.

Though let's be realistic. How much she can accomplish if she doesn't know the language is questionable. Unless of course the other systems have a translator available.

Ruth Aldine has posed:
Ruth rocks her head in Scott's general direction at the touch of his hand on the chair. "Tube was coming down," she says, turning the pork packet 360 degrees in her hands. "Like on the ceiling. Already'd landed on, hm, Boom and Miss Frost." She finds the tear point. "Didn't wanna be inside."

After this she slurp-gulps down the Chinese pork dish. "Weehw," she breathes afterwards. "Salty." She ate it all, though. As she digs a napkin, probably from a takeout place she went three weeks ago, out of her hoodie pocket to wipe her mouth, she answers Emma: "Did the fellas after Mr. the Duck, did they expect Earth or did they just follow after him?"

"Oh, that's kind of you," she comments to Boom-Boom. "But you just go ahead and treat yourself." After this, she rises upwards, and she will gear up with anything obvious like a protective suit that other people do. To Lockheed, Ruth says, "Yeah, they must've gotten a bad piece of pork in there. Sometimes it just, sorry, goes rancid in the plant."

Once they're outside, Ruth slows down for a few steps, before seeming to bounce up a little. Her hands spread out slightly for added security in balance. Within a dozen steps, she seems to have fully adjusted.

Scott Summers has posed:
"Stick close," Scott tells Ruth, taking note of the half-prophecy given but keeping it to himself for now. All the same, he casts his eyes skyward as they step out of the hatch and onto the surface of the planet proper.

The landing pad for the Museum World seems to be one of several dotted across the landscape, raised up on a platform from which the group can see other similar pads in the distance. For an entire world dedicated to displaying a strange and aeons old collection, there don't seem to be very many people around. They can see what must be tourists in the distance on other platforms, some moving along walkways.

About a hundred feet away, there is definitely a bipedal cockroach the size of a grizzly bear wearing sunglasses and a Jimmy Buffet concert tee from the late Eighties.

WELCOME, booms a voice, and manifesting in the artificial canyon of glittering towers alongside there landing pad appears a spectral hologram of a man in glittering robes with stark white hair, WELCOME, ESTEEMED GENTLE-BEINGS AND SEEKERS OF EXQUISITE RARITY TO THE MOST UNRIVALED COLLECTION OF TANELEER TIVAN - THE COLLECTOR!

As though to emphasize his point, holographic fireworks explode in the air around them. Ahead, the great glass doors slide open to reveal a long corridor lined with all manner of strange and alien things. There's also an A-Team lunchbox on one pedestal with the words 'Property of Bruce W.' written in neat, almost caligraphic marker on the plastic.

"It's automated, I think," Scott says of the hologram, leading the way into the interior of the building, "Let's see if there's a reception or something ... "

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would take a moment, her eyes going wide, "My soul for enough alcohol to kill me instantly.." She just flat out stares over as there seems enough at the maelstrom before taking a few moments over to rub at her temples. "All right, we'll need to find someone of some authority to talk to to work our way up the stalk. And that means we can threaten them, bribe them, or intrigue them. Also.." she would glance over at one of the stalls.

"Tabitha, I /think/ that's theoretically edible." She glances over at Ruth to confirm whatever hallucinogenic confectionary out for the adoring public was, in fact, theoretically safe for human consumption and audio-visual overload. Presuming the others would look at her she would shrug.

"She's come all this way.."

Rogue has posed:
When everyone begins leaving the ship, Rogue appears at the end of the group. She's got her space helmet on, with the lights inside the helmet lighting up her face. Overtop of her black and green space suit, she's wearing a winter parka coat of red with a furry collar, and a patch on the left breast pocket that reads 'McCoy'. It's probably 20 sizes too big for her too.

Swish swish swish swish, Rogue moves qickly to keep up with the others, her illuminated face roaming rapidly around the place, clearly afraid of there being no air outside even if there is!

From inside her Mass Effect helmet, the Belle speaks up. "How the hell do these weirdos know about the A-Team?" She questions, before she jumps to the side and recoils her arms up with a swishy noise. "Is that a giant roach?!" She asks in shocking exasperation.

Tabitha Smith has posed:
The reduced gravity might just be a godsend for Tabby. "Like a huge weight off my back." When she looks down at herself and chuckles. "Or my front!" she adds with a tone to match her amusement. Or relief.

The greeting is met with an eyebrow arched behind her glasses. "Radio TV signals had like forty years at light speed, only a matter of time. Plus ain't like aliens weren't ever on Earth before we starts schmoozing the Shi'ar. Wonder if they have tours. And how many people that went off on their own direction ended up as part of the collection. " she considers and hmms thoughtfully.

Emma and booze gets a sagacious nod. "We'll find some along the way. There's gotta be a space Seven-Eleven. We get a sixer, some space gummies. Get lapdances, everyone gets a lapdance!" That gets a look aimed at Ruth and especially back to Scott.

Jean Grey has posed:
Stepping out, Jean by necessity takes up the rear of the group, triggering the gangway to retract and close behind them, before striding ahead to catch up with everyone. Her eyes go up to the huge holo-display and light show, and then around more broadly.

"Does seem like they're used to visitors," she observes, before turning aside toward Rogue, who is... a little over-dressed, compared to the rest of them. She grins, but doesn't comment on it. Let the woman express her individuality! And it does, at least, set Jean to thinking about attire. She's presently in her own spacesuit 'undergarment,' basically the same generic bodysuit as Ruth, designed for fundamental things like insulation and freedom of movement over style. But as they walk, she considers some of the other modes of fashion on display, from the other tourists, as well as she can see them, to the robe worn by their holo-greeter.

After thinking for a moment, a familiar progressive crackling of energy washes over her, starting at her feet and working up to the neck of the jumpsuit, remaking the fabric in its wake, into some kind of overly elaborate (and honestly sort of gaudy and ridiculous) sort of 'space dress,' with glittery thigh boots, a long split skirt, huge shoulderpads, and some sort of elaborate headpiece. The whole transformation happens as she walks, without breaking a stride.

To any looks this whole procedure garners, she replies simply: "When in Rome."

Other than that, they have nothing much more to do but follow the path presented to them and see what kind of greeting they get. Although she does pause to glance over at Ruth. "Keep us informed, if anything 'comes up' for you. We're pretty much in the dark here, so you might be the only one with any kind of insight."

Kitty Pryde has posed:
Lockheed hops on Kitty's shoulder with a little flap of his wings, and she heads down the space plane's ramp to the surface. She looks around at everything, but it doesn't take her long to pull the tablet and initiate some scans for whatever kind of communications, networks, or other electromagnetic signals might be out there.

"They don't even charge admission, hrm?" she says, looking around. "Weird to be on a non-capitalism world, isn't it?" she comments. "Just think of the advertising that we'd squeeze into this puppy if it was on Earth," she says.

She walks forward looking over to Lockheed. Gauging his emotions about the place. Though he just seems to be passively looking about.

Ruth Aldine has posed:
Ruth keeps within about six feet of Scott after his instruction. It's a little vague but that's the intention anyway. Ruth takes a deep breath for a moment, pauses with a small frown, sniffs again, and then Tabitha would feel that vague tickle in the back of her head.

"Heh," Ruth says, having 'seen' the roach, sort-of-kind-of.

A voice booms out! Ruth keeps on trucking. The fireworks are lost on her; she doesn't even think to misuse Boom-Boom again.

"Yes," Ruth says to Jean, "yes, I hope to. It seems alright now. I guess it was when we were still up, sorry; in space." Her hands slide into her hoodie pockets for a moment. "Maybe if you have this much stuff, it's no good unless someone sees you have it."

Scott Summers has posed:
Scott continues to walk through the wide, opulent hallway as Rogue makes her distrust of space known. Her voice hissing out of the external speakers on her space suit, he pauses for a moment and visibly considers turning them off. In the end, however, he decides it isn't worth the Belle thinking she's has gone 'space deaf' on top of everything else.

This wing is dedicated to treasures of the galactic lower class, explains the hologram of the Collector, no longer booming now that they are indoors, Those hard-working, soil-stained folk who find sentimental value in the most common of ephemera. But they are not without an aristocracy of their own, meager kind! Look now upon what must once have held the remains of the great Terran Pharaoh Lord Ayy-Teem, defended in the afterlife by his four great warriors and their box chariot. Note their extremely diminutive stature.

While the place seems largely automated, up ahead the group can make out a figure. He's dressed in a burgundy jumpsuit and he holds what can only be described as a mop with a space-age flare. He dips it in the bucket, swirls it about, then slaps it back onto the tile to clean a particularly stubborn stain. Looking up to see the group coming, the janitor - who looks human save for his bright blue hair that rises into an Alfalfa-like point - looks left and right as though trying to avoid being seen.

And this is an Echuxian Tal-Sidar, an instrument said to produce a note so keen that the bowels of Musical Tyrant of Beed's enemies would turn to liquid upon hearing it. Probably better left unplayed, yes? Ha ha!

Emma Frost has posed:
There's a sigh from Emma, "Yes, yes, we're all indulging in the joy of some other species' childhood joys. I do however, wonder.." Emma would just start to ever so sadistically smile over as she would go to glance over the things. "Jean, Tabitha, with me a moment. Anyone that's fluent with the general collectibles market.." Emma goes to smile.

And then includes anyone who wishes in on the strange conversation a telepathic explanation. <<Collectibles are sorted in two tiers. Rarity and shape. Something that's rare and in excellent shape will go much more than something rare that's barely holding together. Now, for collectibles that have sentimental value..>> Such as toys..

<<The term is MISB, or Mint in Sealed Box.>> Emma pulls the information from somewhere. <<At the point it comes out of it's vestible, it loses so much value. That will definitely upset our local hoarder at having his paraphenelia start to be less.. Unique since it's not so pristine>>

Emma's asking them to start opening toys.

Rogue has posed:
Swish swish swish. Rogue keeps on moving.

Her eyes continue to roam around, taking in the sights of this strange place, before finally settling on that janitor guy. He gets a grossed-out expression upon the illuminated features of Rogue's face within her space helmet, but she doesn't comment on him.

Instead, she turns her eyes to see Jean suddenly dressed in some elaborate attire, and with a 'swishswishswishswish!' she ends up right at Jean's side, her gloved hands touching the other woman's arm.

"Do me, do me, do me!" She urgently rquests an outfit change, at the mercy of possibly bad phrasing.

Whilst clutching Jean's arm, Rogue's brightly lit face continues to sweep around, the world reflect back upon itself on the visor covering the Magnolia's visage within. "this place is a trip. Scott. What are we doin' here? Why didn't you brief us before we landed? It'd of been nice to know what to expect down here, so a girl didn't have to come all poorly dressed for the experience..."

Tabitha Smith has posed:
Tabby, despite her near pathological need for joking and being glib, is totally casing the place. She's an ex-ish-master-ish thief. Well she's never been arrested. For stealing at least.

Like stealing is a crime?

But when there's a place like this you can't help but try to spot what security is like. <<We've got nerds at home, and I'm actually competent as a thief. I know about appraising value. You wanna hurt someone by stealing stuff, you go for the sentimental stuff just as much as the monetarily valuable.>> she explains in the link.

Outwardly she grins at Rogue. "Phrasing honey! Phrasing!" she teases. "Gotta wonder if that made it to any universal translators" she adds aloud.

The lunchbox gets a chuckle. But the instrument gets Tabitha looking very intently. <<Make a note of where this baby is. If we get in trouble I'm gonna brown note someone!>> That one she sends on the link.

Jean Grey has posed:
Rogue tug-tugging on her arm earns an immediate smirk from Jean. "Oh, you don't want the big suit any more? Alright, let's see. Abra-cadabra..." She wiggles the fingers of her free hand, then her nose, and then the whole energy-matter transformation begins in similar fashion. Rogue ends up in a outfit of black and dark greens, with a ruffled train-skirt, tall boots, long gloves, and even turns the helmet into a hood!

From there, once they continue on, the holo-tour is no doubt 'informative' in some sense, Jean only listens for just a moment before rolling her eyes and tuning it out.

"Going through the whole thing might be a huge waste of time. Especially since all we really want is an appointment to see the 'boss' anyway. And who knows how long this might go on. Guy's got a whole planet. Who knows how many wings or exhibits there even are. Or where a living humanoid duck would go, if he was properly on display." Although, this prompts her with an idea, something they haven't tested:

She turns to face the hologram. "Hello?" A brief test to see if it even reacts. "Our schedule is limited, is there a directory of exhibits?"

As far as Emma's idea goes, she looks around and furrows her brow. "I'm sure if we just start breaking things, that will get security called quick, you're right. But it might not put us on the best footing, negotiations wise. I suppose, if we can't figure out another way..."

Ruth Aldine has posed:
Ruth hears of the galactic lower class. "Huh," she says, reaching up to scratch her cheek for no particular reason. She frowns at what the commentary says regarding the Pharaoh Lord Ayy-Teem. "Sorry, phrasing," she says to Rogue, but not very loud.

But then Ruth pauses in her walk and turns her head towards Emma and Tabitha. She doesn't try to intrude on the telepathic conversation. She starts to speak, but then she deliberately stops -- just as Jean speaks -- and she says, while pointing, "It's him you should talk to."

Ruth is pointing directly at the janitor.

"Is he comin' for me?" Ruth asks Scott. ("Is she doing the clothes thing?" she asks Tabitha more quietly, meaning Jean.)

Scott Summers has posed:
For his part, Scott sticks with his bodysuit and visor look that is something of a classic with him. Yellow and blue, with his neatly-combed but still slightly disheveled brown hair at the top. He peers at the ruby-tinted world around him, shaking his head lightly as Jean and Rogue start begging fate for a wardrobe malfunction.

Thank you for registering your interested in the esteemed and inexhaustible collection of Taneleer Tivan, the hologram says to Jean, cutting itself off mid-speech, Your interest in sophont-to-sophont interaction has been logged and you are currently ... nine-hundred and thirty four thousandth in the queue. The Collector thanks you for your patience.

Then, as though nothing happened, the hologram goes back to describing the collection in a grandiose way.

"Bik bok bak bok bik," the janitor calls out in some bizarre alien tongue, when he sees he's being pointed at, "Bik bok bok bik bok."His note of frustration crosses Scott's face, and he takes a step closer to Ruth to place a hand on her shoulder. When he speaks, it is via the telepathic communion the group shares.

<< I have a plan. Trust me. >>

Uh oh.

Without warning, Scott reaches out to one of the exposed pillars and plucks something off of it. A long, silver rod with a finely-crafted claw-like hand on one end. In the same instance the hologram goes from convivial tour guide to a furious approximation of the Collector with his arms crossed and a dark look in his eyes.

Then, the tubes come down. Plexiglass cylinders that descend instantly from the ceiling on to each of the group. Then up, up, up through the innermost workings of the Museum World. Or perhaps they're going down now? It's hard to tell as they are thrust Augustus Gloop-like through a maze only to land in what seems like a black void illuminated only by a circle of light that they are all currently standing in.

A loud thunk is heard, and then a little ways out in the void the Collector appears in a smaller spotlight all of his own. This one, most notably, isn't a hologram. Or at least, he doesn't appear to be.

"Steal from me once, shame one you!" the Collector chides, thrusting a finger at the group accusitorily, "Steal from me twice? Shame on you again! More shame! You're the nasty Terrans who have my Duckworldian."

Emma Frost has posed:
There they go. Emma goes to flash that cleavage that everyone is so awed by being on display, and goes to smile over at him. "We're here to parley. Your subcontractors did a rather poor job and left quite a mess at our residence. That level of intrusion is quite rude. Since you seem to put up a pretense of having some semblance of class, we came here to negotiate over the damages to our property." She's not demanding compensation in this but also giving the man a very light needling when it comes to his choice of employees.

"And also darling, we're going to need to give you some honest, honest criticism about your display architecture. Whomever you had make it? Should be drawn, quartered, and then sewn back together so you could dip them into acid. This is an abomination even by her standards." Emma goes to jab her fingers over at Tabitha.

Rogue has posed:
When Rogue receives warnings toward her phrasing, she is unable to really register them, as her attire is being changed by the Genie Magic which Jean wields. It consumes her attention, as she looks down at herself, feeling the material shift in molecules across her skin. She laughs. "It tickles, like bubbles!" She says in a all too overly giggly fashin for the Belle's normal tone of voice.

When it is all said and done, however, she's checked herself out with bends, turns, twists, and wiggles. "Je suis beau!" She declares in French, before she's suddenly contained in a tube! This draws her eyes up, from within her new black hood. She looks concerned, at first, before she sees the others in her party also contained in tubes. That is either good, or really bad, right?

There is no time to think about it. She is suddenly being moved within the tube, and she suddenly feels her new dress being pulled by the tail end of it. She curses in French, and turns to quickly pull on the tail of her dark green dress, yanking it in to the tube fully before it's torn from her body. "I just got this damn thing, I'm not about to let some vacuum hose---" She cuts herself off as her eyes watch the display of what is traveling around them. She's in quiet awe of the spectacle.

And then they arrive, and the weirdo is taunting them about Howard? rogue takes several steps forward, and crosses her arms over her stomach in her fancy new fit.

"Find your own Duck, Dick."

Tabitha Smith has posed:
There is a nod of her head and Tabby answers Ruth with a "Yeah, Jean and Anna-Marie getting all gussied up. All that on a molecular scale stuff." she confirms and kinda snarks. "If I tries that it'd just explode something. But that's being a very, very specialized telekinetic for ya, versus someone much broa..." she doesn't finish as Scott snags a back scratcher and everyone gets sucked into tubes.

The trip is bouncing and in more than one direction. Somewhere like those vac messaging tubes and the Jetsons.

The amount of swearing Tabitha uses if one were to imagine it would result in a very long sustained beep until they're at the end of their trip in that circle of light.

"TILL THE HANDLE BREAKS OFF!" she yells.

Sitting down on her butt on what passes for ground she just shakes her head. "Not my fault!" she points out and rubs out some of the soreness where she was bounced.

"Seriously. Little bits of string dude. I bet we find old kitty litter and stacked newspapers somewhere." she joins the insults.

Jean Grey has posed:
Of course, Jean gives a bit of an huff at being put on hold by a hologram. "You'd think they'd have more processing capability than this..." she complains aloud. Possibly she's acting a bit, playing it up in the fashion of a disgruntled guest. Or maybe she's actually just a bit annoyed!

Either way, it's a dead end. Lifting a hand to her chin, she may be pondering her next step when Ruth shares that tidbit, and she glances over toward the janitor. His furtive body language, in context, might not be all that suspicious: even if they're just disgruntled tourists, dealing with a bunch of unhappy visitors is probably the last thing the guy on cleaning staff wants to deal with. But Ruth declares otherwise. And Ruth... well, is Ruth.

Obviously, she doesn't speak 'bik bok,' but telepathy can usually serve as a universal translator. <<Hello?>>

But this is all she manages before Scott puts Emma's plan into action. And, well, that DOES seem to do the trick. Off they go, wooshed along, to whatever destination. Since Scott has declared this 'the plan,' she doesn't try to stop it, only quickly making a psychic survey of the others to keep track of them, on the chance they end up separated. But, nope!

Jean catches herself, at the end, so she's not dumped ceremoniously at their landing point. She looks herself over, brushes her shoulder, and then turns to the figure addressing them from the darkness. "If your hologram was a little more efficient, we could have made an appointment. You'd think, with a place like this, you wouldn't cheap out on the tech like that." Yes, that is certainly a bit of a barb, and meant to rile him up.

Still, she raises her open hands there after, in what she hopes is understood more universally as a gesture of peace and concilliation. "We don't 'have' him, he came to Earth. But our planet rejects the notion of ownership over another person. So he's free to stay, to seek asylum according to our laws, whatever he wants, although we'd like to be able to help get him home. I'm still not sure I understand this whole 'Duckworld' situation - it seems wildly implausible there's simply another planet that mimicks ours so closely, except with avians, as opposed to some kind of... alternate dimensional scenario?"

Maybe that's off topic. "We didn't come for a fight. We came to resolve the sitation. But hopefully you understand, from our dealing with your mercenaries, that we're quite capable of putting one up."

Ruth Aldine has posed:
Ruth gives Scott Summers - or Cyclops, perhaps - a telepathic sign of assent.

Then he picks up a rod and the tubes come down.

Ruth folds her arms and her lips purse in a tight little frown as they are engulfed in the clear cylinders. <<What'd I say,>> Ruth says, before they are drawn-- forward? Upwards?

"Sir," Ruth says, "Mr. the Duck belongs to himself and if I understand right you were holding him against his will. Sorry, but the, like, the foundational law of the part we're in says you can't imprison someone without a legal thing, and they haven't banned having an unusual body yet."

Jean raises the prospect of a duckworld. Ruth frowns for a moment. There is more telepathic intercourse. In the group network, Ruth asks: <<Is the buk-buk man still here?>>

Scott Summers has posed:
"I have no idea who that is!" the Collector cries to Emma when she points at Tabitha to call the collection an 'abomination', "But I take offense nonetheless. Do you know how many laws you broke taking my belongings and not only opening them but letting the contents wander about all higgildy-piggildy?"

There's a pause as the Collector paces back and forth in his spotlight, shaking his head and clasping his hands behind his Liberace-like robe.

"Neither do I, but I'm sure it's a great many. I've half a mind to go to the Nova Corps about this! Just because you're living on that little mudball doesn't mean you can do whatever you like." He frowns at Ruth, "I owned one sealed stasis-tube the contents of which were unknown to me. But still my property, even if your little backwater disagrees!"

Scott, for his part, remains silent as he watches the Collector. He did his part. He's already surveying the void they find themselves in, though the darkness is too all-encompassing for him to really make out an escape route of some sort. When Ruth asks her question, Scott looks over his shoulder at the janitor who stands towards the back of the room looking positively shocked into silence save for a quizzical 'bik?'

<< Seems so. >>

"I can't be having appointments with every little person that comes to visit," the Collector chides Jean, "Is it not altruistic enough that I open my collection to visitors from all across the cosmos? Now I have to take tea with them, too? Puh-leez."

But the explanation of the why they're here causes Taneleer Tivan to take pause and, with a sigh, he makes a florid gesture. The lights come on, and the group find themselves inside a lavishly-appointed (and probably incredibly gaudy to Emma's discerning eye) office. The Collector takes his seat behind a large desk, behind which sits a fragment of stone with what looks to be part of a bas relief engraved into it.

"Very well, then. Let's talk resolution. Recompense. Restitution."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would settle back over then and move to cross her arms. "Your subcontractors caused significant disruption to our residence in their failed pursuit." Emma gives the ostentatious organization a glare before turning her attention back over to him. "And, that bodes poorly for you on a number of levels. Firstly, your taste in employees. That's a severe lack of professionalism to have sent in such a clearly inferior array. You've wasted whatever passes for merchant exchange here while your subcontractors performed poorly." Probably mostly on the collector being cheap.

"We are willing to enter into negotiations in return for a number of.. Guarantees." Emma would go over to rest her hands on her lap while gazing at the outfits Jean and Rogue were putting on. Not quite Bridesmaids' affairs. "Among them you will cease any and all pursuit of our associate." Emma going to see if she could get a feel for the man's mind - could she read it or not? It might be one of those alien embodiments or eldritch beings that were beyond mere human minds, but it might not be..

<<Tabitha, darling, if push comes to shove I'm going to need to use your lovely consciousness to upload every drivel and drabble to this man's brainstem. Do you think you can manage that on short notice?>> Upload every.. Single.. Swear word.. In Tabby's brain.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue is not a diplomat. Of the X-Men, they likely have most of their best diplomats with them right now, as well as arguably some of their worst. She is, however, smart enough to know when to keep her trap shut, and thus the Southern Belle just keeps her arms crossed over her stomach, and watches this odd Collector mill about. He gives off the air of a very wealthy person, but maybe that is just the planet of odds and ends he's gathered for himself providing clues for her to reach that judgement.

When the lights within the office brighten, Rogue lets her eyes roam around its contents, as she turns, taking in the sight of it all, whilst allowing the others to speak with the strange man on Howard's behalf.

Tabitha Smith has posed:
"I get that a lot." Tabby's used to the marginalization. The blonde finally picking herself up to stand and dust herself down. Or at least dust her butt and bust. But she lets the out loud negotiations happen. "Scott, we can't take you anywhere! We're making you the designated driver on the trip home. All of us tanked, in a cramped space plane, for hours!" it's as vengeance-ish as she can get.

In the mindlink there's a mental image of Tabitha's brain curling into a Grinch like evil smirk.

Sure, that will end well.

<<So should we add us not trashing everything as one of the things we bring to the table?>> she also suggests.

Jean Grey has posed:
"Our 'mudball' is a recognized independent and self-governed non-involved world, with our accession to the general framework sponsored, witnessed and ratified by the Shi'ar Star Empire sometime last year." Jean is not going to let the man treat them like backworld hicks, even if in a practical sense, they very well may be exactly that! "So go ahead and call the space-cops, if you want. The Novas, the Lanterns - we've got more than one of those, too - whoever. I'm pretty sure the pod landing on our planet falls under 'general salvage,' while I'm just -sure- you have receipts for everything in your collection here. Right?"

And then she glances over as Emma starts talking damages. "There's that as well. Physical damage to our property, as well as physical and emotional damages to numerous members of our species, including minor children. Did those bounty hunters have permits?" She leaves it all hang there in a moment. "So tell me, do you -really- want to involve the authorities in this?"

However, while Emma is merely laying down demands, she takes the good cop approach. "But as I said, we're here to solve the situation and spare the legal paperwork - not to mention fees - as I imagine you'd prefer. We can recognize that, despite the circumstances, you've suffered an emotional loss here as well, that you had purchased something in good faith, according to your own local laws, and that you feel wronged by that loss. So, I don't know, what would make you feel better? Materially, we can probably get you some local artifacts to display here. Our culture thinks museums are very important, and we'd be honored to have some of them shown off to the rest of the galaxy, in such a prestigeous location."

As for the discussion Tabitha and Emma are running, her response is very much a 'take it easy until he gives us no other option.'

<<I tried to make contact, but I think I lost him when we got sucked down,>> she tells Ruth. <<What did you see, anyway? How could he help us?>>

Ruth Aldine has posed:
"Oh, is that how it is?" Ruth says, immediately sounding about two steps less dire about the entire situation. "Guess it's just a big, sorry, big misunderstanding." <<And I guess that means Mr. the Duck wasn't hurting so bad if he was in stasis, other than probably losing contact with every other duck he ever knew, which is actually probably worse than getting tortured in some ways,>> Ruth adds psychically, which helps literally nobody!

<<I don't know,>> Ruth answers Jean. <<I just think that was another way it could've gone. Sorry, it's a little cloudy.>>

A beat or two passes.

"I might could be able to figure out Earth stuff, if you have things that make no sense to you," Ruth offers. "Cryptic objects out of place and their entropic narrative. I just need someone to help out a little."

Scott Summers has posed:
The Collector, if he's cowed by talk of the law not being on his side, doesn't seem ready to show it. When Ruth makes her suggeston, however, he taps his chest thoughtfully and peers off towards the ceiling.

"I suppose arrangements could be made," he offers, slowly, "In return for leaving my Duckworldian in your custody. I suppose a new curator of the Terran Exhibit could come in useful. The old one insists there's a sarcophagus but none of you would fit inside of it, and it has a handle of all things ... "

The ancient being scrutinizes the group, eyes lingering on Rogue for a moment when she crosses her arms and frowns. All of a sudden he leans back and claps his hands.

"Very well! I will take this one to curate the collection," he says authoritatively, pointing towards Ruth.

"And the two with the exaggerated sexual dimorphism," he points then to Emma and Tabby.

"This one is intriguing," he says of Rogue, "But seems dangerous. We had a Chitauri gorilla on display for a while but it ate a guest. Terrible business."

Then, a Grinch-like smile of his own spreads across his face.

"Or you could do me a simple favor ... one time. Low risk. Everyone is free to go."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma can get a sense that she's not going into the man's mind. Or almost that ti isn't a mind. Or that there's not exactly a man before her. And she has to shut down part of her face to prevent her jaw from dropping in the moment. Oh, it's one of those days. She goes to close her eyes and moves to take a breath before sharing along the telepathic circuit. <<This thing before us is closer on a level to your other than it is to the rest of us, Ms. Grey.>> So a big 'let us not pick a fight with it'. Very, very high on that list.

"That depends extremely on what said favor is." This is getting far, far more dangerous than the belittling exchange that Emma had been tossing about rather flippantly a few moments ago. She really should have gotten herself properly drunk before she'd agreed to come on this foray after all. She gives a quick, desperate look over at Jean in a 'figure out a way to stop it' view.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue is listening both with her ears and her mind, but her eyes are roaming over what collection the Collector has on display within his office. She only stops when she hears him refer to her, which has her turn to look over the distance between them toward the man. She places one hand on her hip, with the other laying down against her skirt covering her thigh on that side.

Her eyes look toward Tabi and Emma, and she smiles sweetly. "Been nice knowin' ya both. I think, honestly, of all the places we've been, the two'a you coulda done way worse than endin' up here. I think ya might even like it here, in fact." She says, as she steps back toward where they had arrived.

"Summon the tubes then, we are ready to go, and hope that you enjoy our sexually bombastic women thoroughly." Rogue states, confidently, as she holds up the edges of her frilly black and green skirt, to save the trail from the inevitable bvacuum hose this time.

Chin up. She waits to be sucked off.

Tabitha Smith has posed:
He wants to keep Tabitha, and Emma and Ruth. The blonde's arms fold like she's trying to cover her exaggerated dimorphism. "Aww hell naw!" she points out that not being an exhibit is her preferred result.

The warning about mind poking from Jean gets a pout. If she can't get her foot in the door.

"Hey, this is not the sort of menage-a-three I'd be into." clearly getting her words scrambled on getting them out. "I been in enough cages. They stopped being fun a long time ago!" she states and looks kinda huffy at Rogue.

At least there's an alternative. "Keeping me will be waaaaaaay more destructive than you'd like." she warns towards the Collector.

Jean Grey has posed:
Jean gives Rogue a sour look. It's a good joke, but this guy might take that kind of thing seriously!

"Yeah, I don't think 'we'll give you three slaves in exchange for one' is what I had in mind," Jean answers, turning back to the negotiation at hand. Unconsciously or not, her posture mimics Rogue's slightly, albeit mirrored, resting her hand at her waist. "Although if you need help with a Terran exhibit, want to improve the accuracy of the information on what you have, we can easily help with that. Perhaps you'd like to know more about the mythic heroes depicted on the Sarcophagus. Which, of course you're quite correct, isn't what it -really- is."

Assuming his fascination with the mysteries of the A-Team isn't that endless, however, she ultimately comes around to the remaining option. "Sure, let's hear the favor, before we default to option C, which is the one where we try and break as much of your stuff as possible on the way of busting out of here."

Despite whatever warning from Emma, she holds her confidence!

Ruth Aldine has posed:
<<I put in an application for a good job and I get another offer?>> Ruth says as she is declared as a Curator candidate, UNLESS an offer is made to do him a FAVOR instead.

"Yeap," Ruth agrees when Boom-Boom mentions her destructive tendency. "One time she sneezed real bad and they tell me she destroyed over forty Space Marines. There was a lot of gnashin' of teeth that day." Hopefully, someone was able to replace Morph's Space Wolves before the tournament. (Ruth lost interest and wandered off, as is often the case.)

"You know, you're a good negotiator, sir," Ruth says mildly.

Scott Summers has posed:
Rogue's agreement raises the Collector's white eyebrows, before Jean steps in. Tabitha's refusal and Emma's sudden reluctance seem of interest to him, and he picks what looks to be a glass orb up from a holder on the desk and sets about twirling it in his fingers. Goblin King, much?

"I think you'll find that option C," the Collector says to Jean, white eyes fixed on her for a moment as his features seem to shimmer and reveal something altogether demonic lurking just beneath the surface for the flash of a second. Ruth's own ability will foretell of a towering monstrosity tearing the office - and the X-Men themselves - to shreds, "Is something altogether more unfavorable."

Then, as quickly as it came on, he's back to normal. An ordinary-looking, if not flamboyantly dressed, man behind a desk. He leans back in his chair, propping his legs up on the polished surface and resting his hands behind his head.

"There's a place. Far away. For reasons too boring to go into, I'm not able to visit. But there's no restrictions for you. It's been dead since before this galaxy was more than superheated gas. You'll find nobody to oppose you. I simply want you to go and recover something for me. Something that, by its absence, leaves a glaringly large hole in my collection. I have the coordinates right here, all you need to do is go. You'll know it when you see it. I can promise there's no danger there that you don't bring with you."

Scott, for his part, has remained close to Ruth. Taking on some sort of defensive posture, even as he stays out of the actual negotiations.

Emma Frost has posed:
Lovely, they've come here at the behest of a friend being hunted, find themselves facing offw ith a rather bored eldritch entity, and now it's sending them on a fetch quest. Lovely. Emma's fingers over her temples rubbing them are now at the point where she'd be wearing down a metallic surface from frustration and the building headache in her is clearly approaching Homer-strangling-Bart levels. She could only blame herself. Seh'd gone along on this cluck-amaminie idea after all. She could only blame herself.

"Lovely, and some more of the specifics then? Or is there someone within your group we'll be liasing with on it?" Trying to mostly keep herself shut down to otherwise not try and immediately pull out wahtever alcoholic consciouscness on the planet nearby to hammer it into her own brain to deaden the pain.

Tabitha Smith has posed:
Well here's worse things the Collector could have asked for. It beats staying in a cage, no matter how furnished it may or may not have been.

"Alright so you want us on acquisitions? Deets dude. What we bringing back. Cause we're gonna space google it. I mean if it's like a doomsday weapon. We kinda wanna make sure we're not gonna blow ourselves up. I can do that perfectly fine without extra sauce." she points out.

"Plus is anyone gonna be honked off if we go? Just cause we might not be restricted. You know how things go. You pissed cause you think we stole a duck. At least if we have an interstellar incident we can prep. Make sure we get reall offensive."

Perfectly valid questions. Tabby brain already settling into future heist mode.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue lets her skirt drop down a little again, when there is a distinct lack of suck tubes taking place. She lowers her chin to a resting level once more, and her green eyes jump around to the others within her party. Finally, they fall upon the Collector, and she slowly narrows her eyes from beneath the shadow provided by her chic hood provided by Jean.

Jean. Rogue appears beside her, leaning over Jean's right shoulder to whisper loudly toward her. "A Fect Quest?" She asks. "When did this turn in to an episode of the Mandalorian?"

She says it with a bit of exasperation, since it means she has to endure more space places.

But she draws back, and sighs, knowing that they can't just trade Howard for Tabi, Emma and Ruth...

"Guess we don't want to make as bad a trade as the Yankees, I guess..."

One of her stylish boot tips might even slightly kick at the ground.

Jean Grey has posed:
Jean Grey does not intimidate easily. It is a consequence of experiencing the things she has, going the places she's been. Which is not to say that the gravity of the moment is lost on her. In fact, because of those things, it is very much the opposite. "Of that I have no doubt. So I would very much like to avoid it," she agrees, speaking in a slow, even tone, as she stares back at the strange man, only to end with her own 'meaningful' final delivery: "For both our sakes."

But then it's back to friendly mode.

"I think we can agree to that," she answers, oddly not as quick as the others to demand careful details. Perhaps it is her own fundamental understanding of the actual danger of the situation, the other voice she has to listen to in all of this. So she's not splitting fine hairs, here, just the big ones, and skips ahead: "We accept..."

"...with the proviso that we will still obey our local morality. It may not be important here, but we won't bring you another sentient being, or the like. Then again, I suppose that's obvious. We'll go, and either we'll bring back what you want-"

"-or not, and we'll be back to square one. But it's worth a try, isn't it?"

With the heavy stuff out of the way, she turns her face to where Rogue has now inhabited her shoulder. "It's a space adventure, isn't it? What do you expect? Hopefully he doesn't want a baby Yoda."

Ruth Aldine has posed:
Ruth, of course, doesn't look at Scott, but her stance is pretty relaxed; and most of that is due to him. Despite his sudden yet inevitable betrayal! (Though it was a clever idea, and Ruth may see what will happen, but not the full details.)

"Yeap," Ruth echoes Tabitha. "You might not mind if we get blasted out of space, but we'd mind; and it'd probably be, sorry, a bad thing if we got the thing but then someone else space-robbed us. Piracy. Plundering of ancient treasures, taken from the jungle by crime. Sorry, I don't mean to make implications, it's just the way things will happen."

She takes a deep breath and lets it out.

<<I thought of something if it's another stasis tube,>> Ruth telepaths afterwards, though she doesn't complete the sentence.

Scott Summers has posed:
"I understand fully that you don't trust me," the Collector answers, "You'll get coordinates, but beyond that I trust you to find what I'm looking for. As a show of my commitment, I am ... "

He pauses, reaching one long-fingered hand to the desk and tapping a few buttons on it with an air of supreme boredom.

" ... I am withdrawing my operatives from Earth. The Duckworldian - Howard, you said? Howard. Howard will be left to quack or lay eggs or whatever it is he wants to do. I shall trouble him no further. Then, when you return with my prize, I shall happily swear to that in whatever manner you wish."

Another, subtle shake of his head is given when the group pry for further details.

"Permit a gentleman his secrets. I will assure you it's not a weapon anymore than fire or stone are. You will know what you're looking for."

That said, he leans back in his chair once more and lifts a hand.

"Oh, absolutely. I wouldn't ask you to do anything diabolical. You Terrans are rather terrible at it, in my experience. At least those of you I've had dealings with. If we're settled, then?"

He doesn't allow a response, instead he waves a hand and the tubes descend once more. Another insane, gut-wrenching trip through the heart of the museum and they find themselves deposited at the entrance where the Blackbird awaits them. Jean will find that glass orb in her hand where it wasn't there a moment ago, along with the intuitive feeling that it contains the coordinates they need.

An identical buk-buk janitor albeit with green hair is in the midst of sponging their spacecraft down with soapy water. He peers down at them from where he is perched on the roof, raises a hand, and waves the sponge. The wave sends a splash of soapy water down onto the party.

"Buk bok!"