Owner	Pose
Michael Erickson	The astronomy teacher is an alien.     It's Christmas night, so one imagines that the staff should, perhaps, be off and about - but there's a light on in the class wing, and the Astronomy teacher appears to be about setting up materials for the term to come. The classroom appears to be split in half, however: on the right side of the room - and the right half of the front wall - traditional charts, posters, and telescopic photographs of various planets and such other, mundane fare. But on the other side...     Charts. Photos. Computer projections - images that were not captured from Earth, are nothing to /do/ with Earth. Maps that have been printed out and scribbled upon with sigils that are of the Shi'ar language, a tongue not spoken on this planet for decades (at least!) by any but the man who dons the mantle of 'professor'. It's night and day, science fiction and 'reality'. Some of the photos are new, disturbingly taken as if on location. Perhaps they have been.     And down in front, drawing out a map of the Sol system on the chalkboard, is the man himself. Casually dressed as he was the night before, still wearing the unusual handgun in its holster strapped across his shoulders. Music plays from a little stereo box, an atonal mess that could be called, charitably, 'experimental'. Busy, busy bees.
Emma Frost	While those on Earth that are not among the technological elite think themselves fancy for putting satellites up into orbit puts them in the front seats of the scientific revolution might be perplexed by the matter that there could be other cosmic perspectives than Earth.. Those whom had varied their experiences some and broadened their horizons would know differently.     In would come Emma Frost, White Queen of the Hellfire Club, sipping a goblet of wine that cost more than most middle class families would make in a year casually.     "So, what farscape are we inspecting?" The English accented woman would inquire, taking a slow sip of the wine to appreciate it. "And for what particular purpose?" Emma would speak in a thinly veiled tone of inquiry from her position, glancing over the charts.
Michael Erickson	He knows of the Hellfire Club, of course. One does not have his particular mission - or at least, the one he had - for as long as he had it without knowing of the Diamond Lady and her connections, most left to rumor. But he's at least put a file together on her for the folks at home, however slender it might be. The appearance of the woman herself here at the school, however, is not something that the man would expect.     So. When he hears that voice, with all its...charm...and turns to see her face in his doorway, the man who calls himself 'Erickson' up here in Westchester County elects to be polite. Smiles, even as he summons the not at all minor walls of his mental palace into place. "We begin at the beginning, Miss Frost," he explains, gesturing between the two sides of the classroom. "What humanity knows, and what everyone else in the galaxy does. A blended education, so that students may be truly informed yet not sound like tinfoil-hatted maniacs to the mundane public."
Emma Frost	Emma Frost would take another light sip of the goblet of wine, taking a moment to survey the stars. "I've heard it's been said that by most civilized standards, Earth is a galactic backwater." The telepath would evaluate the Shi'Ar. "I'm sure that you would have a much.. More nuanced perspective of it." Taking a glance over the details, evaluating them.     Running it what knowledge she had of mathematics and the solar system. Another sip taken of her drink thoughtfully.     "And we have to get past this Helio-centric vision of ourselves. It took humanity how many centuries to accept that the planet did not have the star orbit around it, after all."
Michael Erickson	"It would depend on the civilization." He smiles faintly at the lady, looking up at the devious creature as she plays...well. It's not a role if one embodies it, right? He lifts his chin a tad, gesturing for her to enter as he goes to turn off the stereo. "Honestly, there are plenty of civilizations with a great deal of technological advancement with abysmal cultural value. It depends on the beholder and what they find important, I suppose."     This said, the towering blonde is regarded quietly a moment before he speaks again. "How may I help you this evening, Miss Frost? I admit, you're...a good deal far afield than where I would have expected you to be of an evening."
Emma Frost	There's a smile from Emma. A sip of her wine. An evaluatory glance that's not accompanied by a mindprobe, for now. "And then we get into how one defines or quantifies the cultural worth of a civilization or cultural value. Which I would imagine goes about as well on any planet as it does within this one."     Emma would evaluate Michael, "And I find that doing things that I am not expected to do gives me a much wider net to cast."
Michael Erickson	"So I have been led to believe." He quirks a broader smile, then, turning back to the charts, hands on hips. "Well, it's very simple. In my case, all I'm doing is teaching the students about the universe. It's my political and historical classes where one starts to see how /that/ picture grows, though I admit, I am no luminary in that respect. I'm a soldier. My lens tends to be soldierly - though, as a member of the aristocracy, I have a higher view of the Empire's political situation than everyday citizens. Political education is a necessity for those in the ruling classes, yes?"
Emma Frost	Riposte it is. Emma would mm, "Yes, a level of maintaining indoctrination is always necessary for stability. Fealty to the system, allegiance, tradition.. All of them useful for maintaining a hierarchy. Hierarchy is reinforced by discipline. Soldiers obey orders. Nobles maintain the appearances of the system and are public rallying points for the civilization, useful or not."
Michael Erickson	He nods, leaning in to start scribbling notation on one of the right-sided charts. 'Reality' and all. "Of course, that's a humanocentric view of things. Once you get into the modulations of what intelligence even /is/, the panoply of political science truly becomes expansive." A moment; he turns to her, scribbled sentence stopped mid-inscription. "Have you ever been offworld, Miss Frost? Either physically or..." He gestures about his head in a projective manner. "...astrally, I believe it's called here?"
Emma Frost	Emma Frost would smile over at Michael, and then go to say sipmly in response over to his question, "I have." To either? To both? "The astral plane is altered by the force of consciousness no matter the realm. It matters not whom or what is behind it. A powerful mind can bend it no matter the place in the universe it happens."
Michael Erickson	"Ah!" His expression brightens as she replies in the affirmative. "Well, I imagine you're the deadliest woman alive in almost any political theater. The Empire would likely love to incorporate you into the Crown bloodlines, telepathy or no." 'Michael' taps his temple. "You've got an intinct to be appreciated."
Emma Frost	Emma Frost would smile, "You say the loveliest things. And I'd presume politics no matter the culture are about appearances. Theatrics, playing to the audience. Manipulation on a smaller or grander scale."
Michael Erickson	He shrugs. "Some things never change," he replies. "At least with the mind of the galactic mainstream - hive species, that sort of thing, well. Very different in many ways, of course. But for many..." Michael goes to sit on the edge of the desk. "So. /Is/ there a reason you're here, Miss Frost? Not that I'm not thrilled with the company. I'm just a man who doesn't like to waste a lady's time if she's here for a particular purpose."
Emma Frost	Emma would smile, taking another sip, "Why.. That's the thing with appearances. If one only plays to role then you fade into the background. Sometimes that's what's needed. But I find it's better served to perform the unexpected. You learn far more things when you journey outside your normal zone."
Michael Erickson	"True," he replies, "Although..." Michael gestures to the two sides of the room from his perch "I /am/ setting up for the term. Is there something in particular you'd like to hear me rattle on about whilst I do so?" There's a certain /hurry/ about him, something that has nothing to do with the lady in the room. He's doing several things at once, and the classroom setup is only part of it.
Emma Frost	Emma Frost would smile once more. It's a smile that's clearly for show and without any degree of sincerity to it. "I'm here learning. One does not limit themselves over to the text of the materials. One conceives by analysis. If I'm interrupting your work do say so and I'll be on my way."
Michael Erickson	He laughs at that, a weirdly barkish sound as he gets up and goes back to scribbling. "Well I must say, Miss Frost," he says as he starts to sketch out some orbital appraoch or another, "As much as I find the company enchanting, not to mention right out of my own home culture, if you've come to mess with me you might as well make yourself useful while you do so. Would you mind going over there..." He pauses to gesture to a seat in up front, "And sit down? I'm calculating acoustics while I'm at it."
Emma Frost	That would get an actual laugh from the blonde. "And this is the sort of thing that one learns." She does, however, go to move over where she had been requested to. This was to her some sort of fencing rather than actual sport.
Michael Erickson	It's more fun in the moment than actually gutting people in the field; Michael has done more than enough of that in his younger days, something he is distressingly open with the student body about when explaining his past in conjunction with Shi'ar history. How does one explain that he used to be a giant fascist without actually realizing how big a fash he was at the time? At least he's a reformed one, if that's such a thing.     "There you are," he says as she goes to sit. "As fine an ornament as any work of art I could have in the class, certainly. And what have you learned so far, Miss Frost?" Back to scribbling. Very intense about his penmanship.
Emma Frost	There's a smirk from Emma Frost given to Michael, "Eyes up here. And I'm far finer an ornament than one could dream of so don't get your hopes up too much." Another sip of her wine, savoring those last few moments of the scent as she would be mostly done with it.     "And I've learned about a member of the faculty that I'm not familiar with. I consider that sort of thing invaluable.. And one gets so much more input from meeting in person than from reading a file."
Michael Erickson	"Ah, worry not," he replies, not looking back from his work. "My interest in you has always been entirely professional, Miss Frost. Saying you're a work of art is no different from saying the daytime sky on this world is blue." A beat. "Well, usually." And now he's messing with /her/.     "So." He considers his work, then moves on to a stack of photographs printed out and laid upon the desk. He takes several of them, each about the size of a large sheet of legal paper each, and starts to pin them up around the left side of the chalkboard on the front wall. Images of Saturn, taken from various angles and various levels of closeness. Some particularly breathtaking shots apparently taken from the rings themselves. "We've met, you know. I used to be a security consultant. This was...twenty years ago? You were just a little girl. Your father brought you along to a venue I was coordinating security at. A regatta on the Hudson, I want to say."
Emma Frost	And Emma Frost would just smile. The joviality from earlier and the back and forth reparte would vanish as the mask of the White Queen would fully come back into place. "Ah. So useful, to have memories of stalking a five year old girl and her father on a boat. Family vacation." She would muse as if making a show of recalling the incident.     If there was any sort of surprise or vulnerability, it wouldn't have been noticable. "And I'll presume that you know what my father was doing that day, if it was important enough for you to remember in specific. If not.." Deflection put up and moving in to try and counter the small verbal advantage.
Michael Erickson	"Ahhhh." He turns, then, capping the pen. "I learn things," he points out to her. Smiles, but not overmuch. "Come, I thought we were simply fencing, Miss Frost. If I have overstepped, you have my honest apology. It was not my intent to bring up anything..." Michael gestures. "Problematic. My people sometimes to go for the throat when it's unnecessary, and without realizing it."
Emma Frost	Emma Frost would smile, and wag a finger, "Oh, you did not overstep. You overplayed." There is a difference. she seems as if she's about to magnaminiously lecture on the point.. And then casually does not even as her posture goes relaxed as she would finish her drink.
Michael Erickson	"Perhaps I did not strike hard enough, then." Back to his charts. "But to answer your question, yes, at one point I had marked your father as a person of interest should we ever need a diplomatic contact on this planet. I settled on you instead, later. But alas, it was never to be."
Emma Frost	Emma Frost would just smile, "That would have been in error. Of all the things my father.. Was.. Is.. A diplomatic contact would be something he would have been particularly ill suited for." Her posture would rise up in almost laughter.
Michael Erickson	"That would be my determination." Michael chuckles, pausing to squint at a shot he's just hung up. "But given that on this planet the mercantile class runs parallel to the patrician in terms of overarching political power, it seemed sensible. As I said, you were the better choice once you took the stage."
Emma Frost	Emma Frost would smile, "And you say the sweetest things.." She would muse while finishing off her wine thoughtfully. "And how much of that is from practice and how much of it is from analysis?"
Michael Erickson	He glances at her from over his shoulder. "I don't know what you mean."
Emma Frost	Emma Grace Frost would just smile with that faint line of amusement and bordering something sinister, "Oh, there's a line between a mark and a subject. I do have to wonder which of them I'm befitting of."
Michael Erickson	"At the time?" He turns again, leaning against the blackboard. "I had envisioned you as a member of a board of political appointees ruling the planet in the name of the Empire should it decide to conquer this world." He shrugs. "I had a different way of thinking then. Still confident you would make a damned good governor, of course, but I expect you might think that lesser than you deserve." He waves a hand. "This is before reports of your abilities surfaced."
Emma Frost	Emma Frost would smile, "In that.. Well.. You would have been ahead of the times or behind. But we must continue this conversation another time." For she was out of wine and needed another goblet. The life of the rich and glamourous had so many things which needed doing that wouldn't do themselves. "Do tell me how your classes go. Ta."
Michael Erickson	"Ta," he replies pleasantly, watching as she departs. Well, at least he didn't say anything /too/ terrible. But then the vision is gone, and has a great deal more to do...