9460/Discussion Amongst Debutantes

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Discussion Amongst Debutantes
Date of Scene: 05 January 2022
Location: The Public House - Hellfire Club
Synopsis: Meetings in the Hellfire Club Bar go unplanned as literal helllfire is planned and psychic mayhem is underfoot as the dark ladies plot to power.
Cast of Characters: Emma Frost, Paris Bennet, Satana Hellstrom, Jan de Wit, Selene Gallio




Emma Frost has posed:
It's a quiet evening. The Hellfire Club's Public House is seemingly rather slimly inhabited this night. With the standing evacuation order for Manhattan, most seem to be tending to that. Emma Frost is seemingly not one of those. Whether she considers her part in it done or something to be passed out ot others. She's sitting over with a goblet of wine in front of her that costs more than many people make in a year, a mink coat thrown over her shoulders, and is appreciating the scent of it, lightly twirling it over in the goblet in a casual display of indulgence.

Paris Bennet has posed:
In steps a man of restrained presence. Restrained due to his nature, revealed by a subtle illumination of his features. It's not so much that he lights up, but...he does have a way of standing out.

It might even have something to do with the psychic weight that he evokes.

Gold within gold eyes shine forth as his head slowly turns, surveying the room as leather shoes tap the floor with each deliberate step. Then, noting the scarcity at the bar, he makes a beeline for it. Adjusting his coat, the frenchman will coolly disregard all until he acquires a post there.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
The redhead at the bar proper is dressed ... technically in Victorian style. Later Victorian, but Victorian nonetheless.

Technically.

For example there's the Bertha neckline, baring her pale shoulders and moving across the upper chest, plunging down in decollete style. Here's where it's ... hazy ... in its authenticity, given that the decollete plunge falls well below what would be considered decent in the era the style comes from (seeing as the beginnings of the waist itself can be seen through the bindings of the bustier--not corset, another straying from proper form--beneath).

Of course with her shape she doesn't need the corset to magnify the bust and reduce the waist. Her corset appears to be entirely internal.

Similarly, as per late-19th styles, there's no crinoline. The fit and drape of the skirts reveal femininity instead of artificial cages. But that fit is tighter for lower, not really draping until it fully outlines the upper half (and a bit) of the hips and posterior. Then it drapes scandalously close to the legs, especially when she's perched on the bar stool, legs crossed under the skirt, showing off the form.

Definitively not Victorian are the spike heeled faux riding boots.

Satana, displaying her finery for all to enjoy, sips from a whiskey tumbler, and in a further breach of Victorian style has a set of whiskey bullets to chill the beverage instead of sculpted ice or neat with a shot of water.

Jan de Wit has posed:
Jan was a man who enjoyed the finer things in life. Drink, food, company - all of that was high on his list of things he enjoyed. Where better to sample said things, than the Hellfire Club? The man stepped in, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit of charcoal gray. Not one unaccustomed to decadence, he grins upon entering.

This, this is a proper public house.

With a quiet grace, he moves towards the bar itself. This should be a night to remember.

Emma Frost has posed:
The presence of Exodus gets a musing look from the former White Queen as she would casually place her drink over on the table and look at him through the distance. Going to send him a telepathic prompting <<You could at least have the common courtesy here to tone down your aura. It's rather rude>> The telepath would speak over as if there was some sort of etiquette that he was treading upon.

"What do you think about the most unique calamity that we find ourselves in?" She would inquire over to Paris Bennet as if presuming that he might have something unique to add. The man was a Crusader so she expected it to be interesting.

The shift of Emma's position to acknwledge Exodus entering would also give her a view of Satana. Emma would rise up her glass in a light toast, "Might you care to join us?" Looking amused for some specific internal reason. But asking a demoness about the coming invasion of heaven might spur something.. Well, to Emma perhaps hilarious.

THe man entering that has the look of someone whom has never been in a proper locale before gets a bemused glance.

Paris Bennet has posed:
The man in the simple three piece suit eyes Emma like a fly to be swatted at the prompting. This is for but a moment however before he replies verbally,"If mine presence inconveniences thine, I would apologize but for my inability to restrain it further."

He's being honest. Or he simply doesn't know how.

The big man then glances to the tender and declares,"Annisette."

Simple and direct, then to the other familiar face, Bennet offers,"Interesting seeing you here as well. It will be more civil this time."

Then back to Emma,"You I've but noticed previously. Bennet du Paris, we...almost met before, alas I was summoned unexpectedly."

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
Scanning the bar for familiar faces and, more importantly, the unfamiliar she can later tap for food (while being tapped), Satana's eyes pause as she catches Emma's invitation.

Miming a 'who, me?' look that's as false as a stripper's chest, Satana's eyes rake over Emma's form thoughtfully.

~Yes, that one would do in a pinch. And that face? There's probably pride aplenty in her bouquet. Not to mention other sins, likely. The soul might taste nice.~

~Only one way to find out.~

"I'm sorry, would you mind paying for my drink?" she murmurs to the man seated next to her, raising a hand to caress his face as she speaks. The elderly man, hypnotized, it seems, by her gaze, nods and turns his head to the barman.

"How much?" he croaks. The barman cites a high four figure sum which the man pays straight from his wallet without pause.

"Oh, and another one, please?" she adds, smiling at the man.

The man pays. The bartender, frowning in confusion, pours another shot from the decanter behind the bar.

Then Satana sashays over to Emma and Paris. Slowly enough to ensure she's seen by the most possible while quickly enough to make it not quite seem deliberate.

"Mind if I sit then?" she asks, as she takes a seat across from Paris.

~Ah, yes. The fine scent of arrogance and pride. Deceit. Even a hint of murder. She'll be a tasty morsel.~

Selene Gallio has posed:
    The door's at the back of the club slowly being to part open as a olive toned hand peeks through followed by the rest of the woman it belongs to. A tall woman wearing a tight black bodice as she seemed to be taking it easy on her figure this evening.

    "That morsel is reserved." Says the woman, still entering the room slowly, allowing the shadows to obscure her form and bathe her in mystery until the psionic vampires herself, Black Queen of the Hellfire Club, and one of the newer occupants within the inner circle.

    Selene lowers her gaze to the man behind the counter and simply mouths 'One more' while extending a single finger and a slow nod. It will all be added to her tab, drinks seem to be on the house tonight.

    Stepping over to the bar, the vampire's thigh high boots make no noise, even the leather doesn't pop or creak on top of her muscles and she collects her drink before turning to the rest of the fairly empty room. "Glad to see this many of you decided to stay behind after the sirens began."

Jan de Wit has posed:
With the bar reached, Jan moves smoothly onto an empty seat - nodding to the bartender as they handle the order from Satana. He does watch, mildly amused at the eagerness for the other gentleman to pay the absurd bill. Once the matter is resolved, he raises his hand almost imperceptably to gain the attention of the tender. "A sidecar, please. Your best Cognac." A smile is offered over, along with his card for the tab.

Once the drink is ordered, Jan turns to glance out over those who've come to the pub for shelter from the rather nasty business elsewhere in the city. Looking comfortable as can be, he takes in those who seem to be congregating with Emma and Paris.

~This must be where the beautiful people relax.~

It's a good night!

Emma Frost has posed:
Paris Bennet gets an amused expression from Emma Frost, "Nothing particularly important. Merely being loud." Getting the sense while not bothering to read his mind that this was how he normally was. Irritating, but hardly somethign worth escalating over. "Emma Grace Frost. A pleasure to make your acquaintance under somewhat more relaxed circumstances." She would reply, not bothering to stand up. Gesturing at a seat casually nearby.

Emma's face would settle over to look at Satana and gesture over at the girl to join them. Glancing over the one who would smell perhaps just the faintest stench of brimstone. "You seem to have managed to work out quite the effective scenario." Rather well played. Emma wasn't picking up any sort of psionics from her either. Phermone based perhaps? Something sh wasn't familiar with?

At the things she was picking up from Satana Emma would just be more and more amused, it rising up on her face.

Then Selene Gallio makes her appearance and any sort of amused cheer in Emma's expression and mannerisms would turn to Selene. "Selene. And here I was hoping that the latest events would have you at the forefront burning away like a witch that had just been soaked in the rain." Ah, one could have pleasant dreams. She's gone from lightly jovial to irritated, the former White Queen glaring at the current Black Queen.

Paris Bennet has posed:
The frenchman in the suit is very likely appreciating the quality of company he has found himself in, having the advantage of no pupils to tell where his eyes stray. It's unmistakable when Selene walks in however, as his full attention is drawn towards a psionic of similar nature though far greater refinement than his own. Similar, though hardly the same...

The similarity is enough that he can't mistake it.

His brows furrow is slight consternation as if presented with a riddle, but only for a moment as he is rescued by the delivery of his ouzo. Turning away, he takes up the glass to sample the latest incarnation of what he sampled when last he was here...

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
Opportunity knocks.

"She irritates you, does she?" Satana murmurs to Emma in a voice barely audible over the noise of the bar. "I can ... help."

The smile is pleasant enough. A sociable smile carefully cut and pasted to fit the environment.

The eyes glow pure malice.

Glow.

Then the eyes flick rapidly from Emma, to Selene ... narrowing a little in suspicion ... before resting on Paris. His interest in Selene is noted with frank curiosity before her eyes wander again.

And fall on Jan.

Her soul magic reaches out and touches the obviously wealthy man, inviting him to look her way, upon which, should it happen, he will find himself looking at a woman waving him over in invitation.

~Could always use another snack after the bimbo.~

Jan de Wit has posed:
As his drink arrives, Jan turns to collect it in a hand with a nod to the tender. Then, something draws his attetion. Satana. She's waving to him, inviting him over? The man chuckles, raising his drink in a salute to her as he slowly gets to his feet. He makes his way over to where the redhead is seated. "Evening." Jan offers over, his own voice lightly sprinkled with his Dutch accent.

A nod is offered to Paris, and then a glance to the possible (ha!) tension between Emma and Selene.

~I'm staying out of that one.~ He thought to himself.

Then his eyes go back to Satana and he gives her another smile. "Quite the attire." He chuckles. "May I join the table?"

Selene Gallio has posed:
    Selene carries her drink delicately in her hand, taking a sip as she turns, and presses her exposed hip against the cool wood of the bar and smiles towards Emma. "Lighten up Emm, no need to be so." Selene pauses to take a second sip and smacks her lips open wide and sighs happily after the shallow drink. "Dramatic."

    The Black Queen then pushes off from the bar and starts a slow, methodical walk, hand up in the air, the other at about waist level and she is, waltzing? With an invisible partner. Humming a tune from her past, a melancholy sort of dirge it sounds like. A waltz that takes her remarkably near each of the main guests tonight.

    "Welcome my love." Selene says with a perfect accent, for two hundered years ago, as she passes Jan.

    The dance then brings her past Satana and the ancient woman gives a respectful sort of nod towards the hieress of Hell. A hell. but Hell. "Oh, please stick around, I have many /burning/ questions for you." Selene explains and the command isn't there, but a being with her power and awareness likely even has ringings and rumors in the darkest places, maybe her questions are worth answering.

    Moving on without waiting, Selene then spins past Exodus and gives the ancient man a look over, speaking an old tongue, an early version of French, old, but not latin. Something from the region he smells of, "Welcome to the future, astounding how time begins to fly, isn't it?"

    Finally she's by Emma and blows the former White Queen a kiss, "Still drinking cogniac, or have your tastes changed as well?"

    All of which has Selene taking her final place, leaning her backside against a support pillar hidden at the entrance to two different booths, and she takes another final sip. "Welcome to the Hellfire Club, where we six have much to discuss."

Emma Frost has posed:
There's about as little love lost between Emma and Selene as between the Gauls and the Franks. Emma's just keeping up her smile as she's looking for an opening. Any sort of opening that might be available just for a slip in Selene's presence. Yes, this area might be part of what is technically a state of detente given the group present, and she's no longer a member of the club in high standing.. But still, old habits.
    And here's to hoping that one of those angels going to be invading will finally finish the trollop off.
    Looking from Selene to Satana Emma would evaluate.. Sizing the two up to see how they faced off against one another. And as Selene would go to speak in an older tongue that Emma couldn't follow.. She would instead switch her mind to try and subtly read that over of Exodus to see if she could possible track whatw as going along. Minimizing her psychic presence as much as possible to try and avoid notice; hopefully Selene would be too distracted playing with her food, Exodus had no real concept of mental defenses..
    Then she would switch her attention over to Jan, and her expressoin would turn over to smile with a 'your funeral' twitch of her lips that would be left unsaid. Then Selene is going to move in towards them and smirk, "From you? Anything around you is poison, Selene /darling/. I'll make do with what I have since you've come here."

Paris Bennet has posed:
The ancient frenchman's countenance shines ever so subtley, but notably. It isn't just his eyes, his features actually brighten visibly. Is it a warning at the obvious noting of his thoughts by Selene? Or by the nonsense of another nearby? He doesn't say, but the visual response is perhaps as telling as the elevations of his psychic presence as his tenuous restraint on his energies is loosened ever so slightly.

Then Paris smiles, toasting Emma, Selene, and Satana all in turn with his glass of ouzo, his own accent from a period...further back than two hundred years, but who could bother tracing such? Few indeed. His reply is thus,"Your grasp of my tongue is admirable, mademoiselle, and the presence of such ladies is charming indeed. Your eloquence is refreshing, as is your elocution."

He then sips at his drink, settling on Selene,"You say we have much to discuss...but I seem to know less about you than you do about moi."

With that, he glances to Emma and adds,"I dare say she seems to be the only among us with an advantage in this regard."

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
"Oh, why of course!" Satana says to Jan, rising to her feet to melt against his side while guiding him to a chair. "I wouldn't have waved at you to just send you away."

Her eyes flick to Emma briefly. "Not really my style."

They flick back to Jan as she gently presses him into a comfortable chair.

Then drapes herself over his lap, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other holding her precious booze.

"Not to be that woman, but ... what do we have to discuss? I'm just here for booze and ..." A smile so cunning it would, had fox ears been attached to it, qualified for a professorship of Cunning at Oxford University spreads slowly over her lips, spilling across her face. "... amusements and other sundry entertainments."

Her eyes fall on Selene from her new perch.

"You seem to be quite the cunning linguist, however, miss. You intrigue me."

Her eyes hold Selenes a moment, glowing red for just a short enough time to maybe be a trick of the lighting and reflections.

"Oh, how rude I'm being!" she then says, flustered, covering her mouth with the hand snaked around Jan's shoulders (quite by accident, of course, gathering him in closer to her ... charms and personal scent).

"I'm Satana Hellstrom. Of the Boston Hellstroms."

She rests her cheek on Jan's head. "Pleased to meet all of you."

Selene Gallio has posed:
    Selene's pencil thin eyebrows split and one raises up slowly in Paris' direction and she smiles a weak, coy sort of smile, more teeth than actual flat lips and she takes a breath, rising her chest in her tight dress, her skin and shadows inviting anyone to look should they dare. "We will, in time, but there are more pressing things." Selene then falls silent and turns her attention over towards Satana and then back to Emma and in a show of respect, she closes her eyes and nods, in part to both women.

    Straightening herself up, and rolling her shoulders back as she takes another minute sip of liquor, Selene calls attention of the room to herself, preparing a snap in Satana's direction should the Hellstorm need it the mental tug.

    "I'm hoping you're all quite aware of the remarkable circumstance we find ourselves in." The black queen begins, her empty hand extended out to the full length of her arm and she gestures wide, meaning the whole of society, and the city. "We have a chance to not only expand, but do things thought impossible because of the simple fact that eyes were always open in the city. Suddenly, they're not."

Jan de Wit has posed:
There's danger, and then there is DANGER. The most terrible sort, is the subtle and hidden treachery that can sneak up on a person. Jan moves gracefully as he is urged into a chair, quite suprised as his lap is soon occupied by Satana. Of course, he does not spill his drink either - that would be a sin that no one could forgive, angel or devil. Ever the gentleman, his hand hovers a bit from the lady's back, in case for some odd reason she topples backwards. One never knows.

"Jan de Wit." He offers over, to those nearby. Charms, indeed.

A nod to Paris and Selene, offering another smile. "Quite the odd dialect, where about does it stem from?" He asks in modern French.

Emma Frost has posed:
The very quick and subtle scan gives Emma at least a little bit to follow the exchange. Then the former White Queen is withdrawing her consciousness to her own head, and arraying a rather thick layer of mental shields atop it and also sweeping other minds around the bar, sensing for any other possible threats. And making sure she has an egress available just in case..

And Emma watches to see how much of the proposal is to the room, and how much it is to Satana. And no matter which.. The blonde listens. While going to signal for two of those cognacs that Selene had noted she had a fondness for.

Straight up.

Now watching the game going on. Of demoness, of vampiress, of telepaths.. And one seemingly unfortunate fool caught in the middle of it all.

Paris Bennet has posed:
Bennet regards Jan at the question as if almost offended. Had he not introduced himself previously? Had the language devolved so much?

Rather than indulge his preference with this situation, he simply replies to Jan in what he considers correct pronunciation,"Paris, France."

No need to explain which century, he figures...

If he noticed the activity of Emma, he doesn't show as he turns his attention back to Selene, settling into the seat that had been offered previously as he considers the subject at hand. He's not certain of what she speaks, lacking the byzantine inclinations of certain of his peers but he does have some awareness of the panic over a certain situation underway. In other words, he can guess.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
~What would this dumpy mortal place have that I could want?~

Satana looks Selene over again, the invitation of skin and shadow being accepted and her eyes then overstaying their welcome, stretching their feet up onto the coffee table and tearing metaphors to shreds by the sheer pressure being applied to them.

"I'm listening," she says, noncommittally. "Though I'm not sure how Manhattan being empty impacts me much. It's not really home."

No, home is Brooklyn.

Wait, what?

"I do get bored easily, though, and am always looking for new experiences."

Jan's shoulder gets a squeeze while she talks as a "subtle" form of signalling.

"So if you've got something entertaining planned ... I can ... provide an army ... of sorts? Maybe?"

Hand not played, but one card is on the table and another placed atop suggestively, though face-down.

Selene Gallio has posed:
    Selene looks around the room at the faces that seem to be kind of interested in what she has to say in so much as they seem to be doing it out of politness. Even the daughter of the Hellstroms. Selene shakes her head and frowns. "Manhattan being empty impacts you far more than you might realize, and here I thought you were a potent witch to say the least."

    Pushing off from her rest at the pillar and moves to stand centrally and reaching a pair of fingers into her drink and with the tips wet, she starts to draw in the air. The part that seems off, is that there's actually a mark following her motions, a faint glowing red trail that lingers long. "Manhattan, long before it became the center of the world, has rested on one of the most potent lay lines of the New World." Selene explains, showing a mystically recreated globe, with highlights drawn from memory the living lines of magic within the planet.

    "I hope this is causing some of your synapses to fire." She requests of the room.

Jan de Wit has posed:
Well, he's not complaining about being Satana's perch. Not one bit. Jan sips his drink, regarding Selene and her mention of the current affairs afflicting the Big Apple. At the mention of witches and lay lines, his brow arches. That's a bit outside of his worldly understanding, for certain. Another sip of his drink. A slight grin as his shoulder gets a squeeze.

"I, for one, am fond of my home in Manhattan. It was quite a trouble to get, what with the market being what it is." A smile. "Though I don't know a whit about lay lines or what have you. Is that like Stonehenge?"

Wait, did she just draw tracers in the air? Jan looks to his drink, then back to Selene. And the globe. Another look to the drink.

~Either this is spiked, or I am well over my head.~

Emma Frost has posed:
The two are planning something. Emma would go to pull another sip of her cognac, truly wishing she could have another. But she had to be on alert for when the inevitable backlash came, particularly if it was in the next few minutes. So she could drink herself into liver failure when she was in somewhere cloistered.
    And hope that if Selene was going to play whatever her plan was, that the oncoming angels would deal with her adversary for her.
    Her not breaking the spell over the area b directly addressing Jan.. But no, that was part of how the game went. One watched tos ee how the pieces were being played. And to let the dominos.. Well, she didn't particularly care so long as it didn't involve her.

Paris Bennet has posed:
The frenchman's gaze is narrowing as the woman carries on. His is the heart and soul of a warrior born, and it recognizes the posture of one who could rule, but...

BUT....

Bennet rises from his seat at the sarcasm, downing the remainder of his drink before setting it on the bar with a THUNK. He gazes to the lounging Satana, then to Emma beside him.

The former, possibly current, knight responds,"Keep your witchcraft and chicanery. I'll not be party to such."

He then turns to Emma briefly as a field of light surrounds him, silvery with tinges of gold as space is literally wrent by his telekinesis,"And you would do well not to traffic in such either."

His psychic presence momentarily suffuses the room as he folds space, the sound of frying grease followed by a hiss of static and a pop. Bennet has teleported from the meeting.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
"Well wasn't that dramatic!" Satana laughs, seemingly unfazed by the sudden self-dissolution of one of the meeting's attendees. "I'm tempted to do something like that myself, only I wouldn't wish to disappoint my seat cushion here by vanishing."

Mischief mixed in equal portions with suggestion come paired with the wink directed at Jan.

As does a mock nip of his ear, teeth clacking just shy of his tender skin, her supernaturally warm breath tickling the lobes.

Not wanting to put a good seat to waste, however, she chooses to put her feet up on Paris' recently-vacated spot, letting the skirts fall to show off more of her legs than even a Victorian streetwalker would find decent.

Satana's eyes then stare at the diagram Selene presented, for the first time looking more than a frivolous, oversexed vixen on the prowl.

No, she's a frivolous, oversexed vixen on the prowl who also dabbles in high magicks.

"Interesting..." she says, lips pursed as she inspects the diagram.

Rearranging herself in her seat (likely to Jan's pleasure), she pays more attention. Pointing with her finger, a jet of Hellfire leaps forth and circles a spot on Selene's map. "That's Manhattan presumably?" she asks, not really asking. "If so, ... that's a lot of mana to be left out of my reach."

Her eyes slide over to Selene thoughtfully.

"No offence, darling, but you're not the kind who strikes me as the kind who shares. I help you with this I can't help..."

She pauses, adjusts herself in her seat, then glances over her shoulder. "Feel free to sample the wares," she says to Jan. "I always think better when ... distracted ... anyway."

Then her attention is focused back on Selene.

"...get the feeling that I would be either out on my ass at the end, or in a deadly conflict with you." She holds up her hand. "And I'm afraid regulations only permit two people to ride this ass unless I install handrails. Jan here is going to be one, I think, and I've got another piece of tail on the side raring to go. So ... this is the part where you persuade me that helping you doesn't deplete me while giving you a feast."

Selene Gallio has posed:
    "How about the part that I've been at things like this far long that you have, little devil." Selene notes not matter of factly, but casually, as if yes, water is wet, and the sky is in fact blue. "The ley line hasn't been undisturbed for all this time. It's in fact, part and parcel to why Manhattan is where it is. Or why all the people are in Manhattan." Selene explains, lowering her hands only to lift one back up to take another sip.

    Finished with her drink, Selene holds onto the empty glass and gives a look around, wanting to stick her tongue out like a petulant child at Paris, but he's already gone and DAMN did that smell good... The witch shakes her head to clear her thoughts. "I need a, what did that homeless tart call them? Moogies? Mawglies? Whatever, non-magic folks, I need just one of you." She says, looking at Jan, and then towards Emma, and even the barkeep.

    She casts a glance towards Satana, knowing that these last words will spark some recognition in the demoness. "We need someone to find out if the Sanctum Sanctorum was evacuated."

    Letting those words linger, Selene squints at the air as a buzzing sound tingles at the edge of perception for a moment, then again, and again. "Oh damn it. I'll be right back." The Black Queen sighs as she storms off, tight boots, thong, and bodice moving away in a flurry of anger towards some poor soul who thought it okay to call her at this moment.

Jan de Wit has posed:
Scarlet lines of magic. Paris up and vanishing after something turned him the wrong way. A jet of hotter-than-hot hellfire. Witch. Devil. Muggles. There's a glance from Jan over to Emma, perhaps to ascertain her reaction to all this. Even so, more liquor is needed. He takes a sip from his drink, his hand moving to rest at the small of Satana's back, properly. She did say sample! Even so, public place, proper behavior - even if the place is called the Hellfire Club. Of course, it's warm in here with all the rearranging and shifting of the woman in his lap. Yep. Warm.

"Sanctum Sanctorum? That's... not a place I've heard of." A look to Selene, then Satana. "But I am more than willing to help save my city, where ever I might be able to. Normally, I'd say donations and performances - but I get the feeling that won't be enough this go round." The Dutchman muses. Then Selene is storming off.

"I have quite the feeling that I wandered into a larger situation that I first was aware of."

Emma Frost has posed:
Then Selene is storming off, and the other participants seem to be out as well. There's the little snack making a run for it, Exodus teleporting in a flash of psionic fire to Emma's interest as the man would rend a wormhole in reality. And she's watching with light amusement and reflection as the exchange would go on and build up.
    Oh, Selene is playing to something quite potent when it would come to magic. And Emma would file that information away to just herself.. For now. But quite possibly useful later. Then going to do her own version of scanning the thoughts in the room, making sure to stay well away from the poor would-be morsel that seemed to have wised up to the scenario and was fleeing. Now.. Now to wonder just what little thing had caught Selene's distraction?
    Emma would move to send a psionic signal upwards to.. Something that the others probably could not pick up or out at all, just a quick pulse of information.. And then would fold her hands back together in light anticipation. Oh this would be quite, quite endearing.

Satana Hellstrom has posed:
"The Sanctu..."

Satana's eyes widen as does the sheer ferocity of her grin.

"You think big, Grandma," she says sardonically ... and then ...

Selene is gone. Off in a puff of rage.

Satana takes the opportunity to arch her back under Jan's hand, just to ensure he gets the signals right.

"I have my own ways of sniffing that place out," she murmurs to nobody in particular. "'Muggles' are my bread and butter here."

She shakes her head, letting the red tresses shake down her back except for the few stray strands that cascade into her vale of doom instead.

"This is, indeed, an opportunity and I know just how to make use of it."

Beat.

"Jan, darling, be a dear and arrange a room for us? I've suddenly developed ... appetites."

Jan de Wit has posed:
Fingers do dance over the small of Satana's back at the arch - signal received, whether the full danger is recognized or not. Jan offers a nod and a smile. "Room arranged, then." The man assures, setting down his drink on the table as he retrieves his phone. A few tapped messages, then the phone is returned to his jacket pocket.

He's brave, stupid or unknowing - or all three. "I'm guessing this Sanctum is a rather important place?" He asks. A gentle press to Satana's back. "I should get us the car, then?" He suggests.