6391/Responses and Reactions to Rebuffings and Refutings

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Responses and Reactions to Rebuffings and Refutings
Date of Scene: 31 May 2021
Location: Magic Box
Synopsis: Emma and Remy talk after the brotherhood's appearance in her office
Cast of Characters: Remy LeBeau, Emma Frost

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    The air pressure returns to it's normal state as the portal to whereever the brotherhood are headqurtering at closes, leaving the damaged wall framing Emma Frost, and the slightly confused but generally unflappable Remy standing near her desk with a look on his face before he blinks once and turns away from Emma to re-relocate the chairs she had him move for her guests to sit on.

    A bit of shuffling about and Remy has reset the room back the way it was, for the most part, the spikes still stick out of the walls and Remy takes a seat before Emma's desk, elbows on the top as he reaches out to a packet of the drugs and holds it before his face, looking intently while he waits for Emma to speak first.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma stands briefly after the trio leave, unmoving with seemingly no reaction. Except of course the fact that there is no reaction is itself a tell. Someone is clamping down something fierce.

"Excuse me a minute," she finally says, striding across the room to the discreetly-placed door leading to the ensuite bathroom, stepping inside. The door closes and clicks locked with something that sounds like finality. It's a very well-selected lock. The kind of lock you'd put on the cage of a sexual slave to indicate they are never leaving again.

Why is that the thought paired with that lock?

A few moments later there's the sound of flushing, then of running water. Then silence for a moment. Finally the lock makes its liberation sound and Emma steps through.

"Well, that went well, I thought," Emma lies as she smiles a hollow smile at Remy, her eyes taking in the spikes in the wall forming a twisted, jagged halo around where she had been standing. "What did you think?"

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    Remy's playing with the packets when she finally gets back and he's got one over his eye like an eye patch, as though he were a pirate, and as the door unlatches and he lowers his chin to normal level, the baggie falls back to the desk. Watching Emma with those black and red eyes, the cajun doesn't say anything yet as she reclaims the spot she was standing previously.

    The thief opens the baggie and looks down into the contents out of curiosity, and maybe a wave of 'try it' flashes through his mind, "Ah'm not the type to think about such thin's Emma. Diplomacy and nation building aren' exactly my forte." He says, feeding her a line in order to achieve a few things. Build her back up by putting himself down, and to deflect the question. He things the whole thing was a show of force, alpha's trying to one up each other in a stupid battle that need not be fought. "It was awkward." More cover up.

Emma Frost has posed:
"You're a dear for saying that," Emma says, still staring at the halo of spikes. "It reflects well on your personality. But you and I both know this was a clusterfuck."

Then, under her breath, adding something that sounds suspiciously like 'something I could use right about now'.

"I damaged my relationship with Erik and will have to make amends. I need his troops to accomplish my goals and I especially need the plausible deniability. Without it, I will have to do deals with human vermin to protect my streets."

She turns and heads for the bar, brushing past Remy in a way that could be taken as invitation. Or as "you are invisible" dismissal. Perhaps both? She picks up the decanter of claret, pauses, sets it aside and pulls out a bourbon instead. Reaching for a glass she pauses, considers, then rejects it, choosing instead to drink straight from the decanter.

It doesn't matter how much self-control you have. If you're unused to the liquor burn of hard alcohols, you're going to gasp. Emma gasps.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    "Ah'm not trying to console you." Remy says, resealing the bag and his eyes follow Emma as she moves from her desk to the bar, and is about to ask her to pour him a drink and then ... she drinks straight from the decanter. Shoulders tense and he lowers his head as he seethes slightly. He knows that's going to burn for her even as he sits in front of his pile of 'Scarface' level of drugs.

    "Ah think Erik damaged his relationship with you. Such a ... petty show of force..." Remy says with a shrug of his shoulders. "He was pushing you down in an ambush." Okay, maybe he does know a thing or two about what happened. Remy lifts his hand and motions for Emma to pass the decanter and he waits, with his hand in the air.

    "He attacked you because he couldn't attack the real problem. He still needs you and wont say it."

Emma Frost has posed:
"There is an element of truth to that, indeed," Emma says thoughtfully, carelessly reaching the decanter out Remy's way.

Then coughing slightly as the fumes attack her a second time.

"All his posturing about respect aside, he's angry at an ambush that there was no reasonable way to avoid and since he can't target the source of it, he's taking it out on me."

Coughing fit over, Emma straightens up

"But that all aside, it doesn't change the fact that we..." Yes. She carelessly said 'we'. "...need him. I have to tread carefully around his prickly pride. The 'elders' of our kind are very set in their ways and likely don't find it comfortable to know that they're increasingly irrelevant in the world they fucked up."

Yes. She said 'fucked up'.

"So I'll do the obedience game for him while he's still of use to us. But this is a warning that we can't be too dependent on him. He's not a reliable ally."

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    "Ah coulda told ya dat before ya worked wit' im in the first place." Remy notes taking the decanter and without hesitation, Remy puts the crystal to his lips and tilts it upwards, taking a legitimate drink from it before he lowers the decanter and puts the glass down on the desk.

    He smacks his lips open to allow the fire to breath from his throat and the air to cool his tongue as he allows a heavy breath after the stiff drink. "Ya could have asked me t'help on the mission, but Ah'm not gonna ask why ya didn't." Remy says, pushing down with his hands and arms, forcing himself to stand up next to her desk and he's looking down towards the White Queen, not figurative, but literally, but there's none of that judgement she's felt her entirely life from those that are taller or have viewed themselves as 'above' the woman. "Ah'm gonna go get t'work." He notes, palming a baggie, and tucking it into a pocket, obviously, he's not hiding it, but it seems he's going to use it. Without another word, Remy will strike out on his own, back into Bushwick alone, to do work in this part of the city. Their part of the city.

Emma Frost has posed:

Emma seems taken aback at his ... not his palming of the drug but his move to depart. Nerveless fingers rise as if to catch hold of him, but then fall with flat finality back to her thigh, like a cut rope.

"Use it somewhere private. It takes about five hours to get out of your system and you're unpredictable while it's in you."

Her voice is level, feigning disinterest, but failing. There's something tight in her throat and it's interfering with her usually impeccable enunciation.

Then a gulp.

"Please..." Her voice softer now. Just on the edge of pleading. "...don't use more than one dose. It's addictive. Very much so."

Other words come to her only to die a horrible death.

Please don't got.

Please don't leave me alone.

Please... I need you.

None of them make it out. They die in her throat, murdered by a crippling sense of worthlessness that she struggles to fight off but that sabotages her in subtle ways she can't see until it's too late.

Eyes cast down, she makes her imperial way to her imperial throne, taking a seat at her imperial desk. Looking for all the world, despite the front, like a puppy dog just been kicked.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    Remy stops at the elevator doors, and looks down at his feet, then for a brief moment he tells himself not to, but the thief can't help himself, he looks over his shoulder, and then four words leave his mouth in the direction of the scared and vulnerable woman. "It's not for me."

    But then the cajun looks up and sees something he didn't expect. Emma. Alone. Scared. And that's when his own voice catches, but she can read the surface thoughts that cross his mind. He's more a book to be read visually and mentally than she ever could be. More than she could ever dare to be.

Emma Frost has posed:
"..." If anything might hurt (or at least concern) Remy more than the lonely, frightened girl playing queen look that Emma had before it would likely be the sudden hope in her eyes as Remy stops. The hope is fragile, and the rest of her body is steeling for inevitable (to her) disappointment.

She's pre-flinching at the rejection.

"Who are they for then?" The act is good. Well-practiced from years of living in an abusive household with family members who had a knack for finding each other's weak spots and ripping each other open through them. But it's still an act.

Too-quickly Emma gets up, grabbing blindly another baggie. "Is one enough? I have plenty."

Emma Grace Frost. Drug pusher to keep people near her.

It's pathetic.

And she knows it. Her face says all with its brief flash of self-loathing.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
    Remy does turn, fully, his shoed feet flat on her floors as he watches her, and sees /her/. His adams' apple flexes beneath the hint of stubble at his chin and neck as he swallows. It's a single step. One that takes him away from the door and closer to the woman- the damaged soul. "Emma..." Remy says in a whisper that he can barely hear, but he has to swallow again.

    He walks the short distance back to her desk and takes the baggie from her hand. "It's not for anyone." Remy puts his hands on her biceps, and squeezes slightly, enough that she can feel that he's here in the room. Here with her, here for her.

Emma Frost has posed:
Wordlessly Emma, upon Remy's return, upon his gripping of her biceps, shivers at the flesh on flesh contact, closing her eyes. She steps up, closing her eyes and rests her cheek upon his chest.

For a moment she just experiences the presence.

Then she starts to tremble.

Wordlessly she just experiences him. Experiences his grip on her arms. His chest beneath her cheek. His warmth down her whole, exposed body. And trembles like she's a leaf in a gale.

"I'm sorry," she eventually says, not pulling away but the mask is going back on. "You have your own problems. No reason to take mine as well."

Emma "resolve of steel" Frost. Sham.