Too Poor to Gift

April 10, 2016:

The morning after.

Private Suite


NPCs: None.

Mentions: Emma Frost


Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

It's been a day after the attempted assassination on Charles Xavier, the team already touching down home from Ibiza with most of them filtering off to their respective places for sleep while others possibly brood and try their best to get down to business. Jean on the other hand, for once, slept. Long and hard, until the sun rose which has her rising as well and into the suite that was once shared by the three women.

Three, now two.

So it wasn't a surprise to find Jean there, sitting upon her bed within her portion of the room, sweat pants were tugged on as well as her pajama shirt, which had a cute little teddy bear with smiles and a sprinkled ice cream cone in his hand. And little hearts. Can't forget the hearts. Her hair was a mess per usual, the heat from Ibiza having done no favors for her hair. So, it was tied up messily and left by the waysides, it was getting too long as it was.

"Betsy?" She finally calls out, stepping out of her portion of the room to see what in the world the woman was doing. "I'm going to borrow your shoes!" She wasn't, but if anything would make her come running.. "The real expensive ones."

*thump THUMP* *SLAM!* "You can't fit my Louboutains, dont' even try-!" Betsy stands in her bedroom doorway, wearing a thin cami and her comfortable pajama pants, and gripping the doorframe in clawlike fingers. Spotting the innocent look on Jean's face, her flaring angry eyes settle when she realizes she's being baited. "I hate you," she says in a flat tone of vast insincerity, hands flopping to her side. She goes back into her room of the suite, but leaves the door open, and sits at her vanity. "Did you need something or are you just baiting me?"

"Well, it's not my fault you have big feet, darlin'." Jean kids around. But she just laughs either way, not waiting for an invitation even though the door was left open. "I actually wanted a little bit of both." She confesses, looking on towards where Emma's door was, frowning just a touch, then entering in to close the door behind her. Even though it was something that really, really wasn't needed.

She flops upon Betsy's bed carefully, bouncing just a touch as she crosses her legs at the ankles. Fingers soon join together as she slowly rocks back and forth, looking all around the room even though she's seen it time and time again. "We need to get Emma back." She pauses for a little, then rubs her face. "No, I need to get her back. I messed up. I mean, I don't know too much about her but I know that she's probably the other sister or friend that I'd be blessed to have in my life but.." She grins just a little. "I suck at apologies and I'm too broke to buy her a suitable gift."

Betsy glances at Jean from her position at the vanity, applying makeup with an expert and quick motion. Jean might be one of the only people to ever see the leggy kunoichi without cosmetics applied.

"I'm not about to contend that point," Betsy agrees with Jean. "I know the two of you didn't quite hit it off, but you're more alike than I think either of you could realize. Emma needs us, just as much as we need her. And yes." She applies a careful, delicate amount of blush.

"You do suck at apologies. You might need to get over that. Emma responds well to sincerity and honesty," she suggests. "And do not worry about the gift. -I'm- too broke to buy Emma a gift."

"I don't think we've hit it off because we didn't spend as much time together. I'm always busy. She's always busy. She runs a multi-million dollar corporation and it just felt odd to set up an appointment to spend time with each other." She shakes her head. "She's had my number from the get go, I can appreciate that. She's a better counselor than I ever could be." She unjoins her hands with a lean forward, chin placed upon her palms as she watches.

In fact, she was timing Betsy. Just to see how quick she could work.

"So, sincerity. Honesty. 'Hey Emma, I screwed up. Come back home? Or can we move in with you, blah blah blah'." Jean waves her hand briefly, then wrinkles her nose. "But, with the others it's all said and done. They're out of the mansion and somewhere else. Even though Rose moved out a long time ago before the decision on where X-Force stands is concerned."

"Are you leaving too?"

"Emma's time is very valuable to her. And the reason she's so successful is because she manages that time very well," Betsy tells Jean primly. "It's not a matter of her not enjoying your company. It's a question of her sticking to the routines that work best for her. You don't like it when I interrupt your paper grading."

She pauses and glances at Jean. "I am not remotely opposed to moving in with Emma if that gets floated during your apology. She has walk-in closets larger than this entire suite."

She turns to face Jean, all done with what Betsy considers 'essential' makeup application— not catwalk crazy, but certainly ready for an impromptu photoshoot. "I'm not leaving you, darling, nor the X-teams," Betsy assures her friend with a small, real smile. "Emma will come back around eventually. She's a very dear friend, but you're my -best- friend. We have been for years. I don't see that changing anytime soon."

"It depends on why you're interrupting too." Jean points out. "But I'm hardly ever bothered by it. No."

She does smile a little, then turns just a bit away from Betsy just to kick her legs upon the bed and lay back, her fingers lacing together to rest upon her belly. "Good, I'm glad you're not leaving. Last night?" She gestures just a little. "It was too close for comfort and I think that eventually, we're going to have to globetrot back to that wretched place to see that matters are permanently dealt with." She even laughs a little.

"And honestly, maybe it's the selfish side of me speaking but I don't think I .. or we could do this without either of you."

Betsy gets up and moves to the side of the bed to sit on the floor next to it. She rolls smoothly onto one hip, long legs to the side, and rests her elbows on the mattress, wrists folded atop one another.

"Don't forget yourself there, darling. We couldn't do this without -you-." She rests her chin on her wrist and rolls her head sideways, large amethyst eyes on Jean's face. Purple hair spills to frame her prim features. "Last night was intense but… then again, how often is this this work not?" she asks, a bit wryly. "We'll get through it. That's why we have each other."

"Mmh, yes you could have. Trust me on this."

She bobs her head faintly, then carefully rolls to her own side so that the both of them could face each other appropriately. "We always make it through. It's like we have this, oddball luck that we happen to have whenever we go out to do something grand." She grins just a little, but that smile falls. "Though now I'm afraid that since I actually spoke of it, it's going to fail fast and hard. And we're going to be in the thick of it.. and why am I always the one to speak of doom and gloom?" She boggles quietly, then shakes her head. "Good lord, I think another vacation is in order."

"Name the place, darling," Betsy tells Jean, immediately. "We didn't even see the nice part of Ibiza. There are islands there that— well. The beaches of Ibiza are a globally known phenomena. When my girlfriends and I were done with classes at Oxford, we'd take a charter jet to the beaches. The most beautiful men and women in the world congregate on Ibiza. I knew a gel a few years my senior who'd fly down and party with Leonardo diCaprio on his yacht quite regularly."

"That's.. actually not a bad idea." Jean murmurs thoughtfully. "Considering that we may have lingering business there, it wouldn't kill us to take a break right close to the source." Her fingers touch her lips now, and suddenly she's up upon her feet, shuffling over and past her friend towards the door. "I hate you for that. Leonardo is an adonis who never ages and I -hate- your friend for that."

She pulls the door open, then steps out, immediately went to her room to gather the tablet to begin to shuffle through it. "You reminded me too. There's this feed that Remy brought us from.. somewhere. About the happenings in Genosha." This was said all as she walked back into the room, stopping close by to settle down upon the floor, one elbow laid upon Betsy's hip as she leans in to give the woman a good look.

"So whomever is funding whatever, managed to bring a Sentinel to 'clean up' in Genosha and they're killing the mutates there."

Betsy leans against Jeans' shoulder and frowns, brow furrowing faintly, to watch the tablet playing. "That's disturbing," she says, after the scene is completed. "But it's useful." She purses her lips, eyes flattening in thought. "Sentinels are expensive. They're difficult to procure and they require a lot of specialized equipment. Even one of them represents an enormous amount of resources. Perhaps our first step should be to follow the money and see where it goes?"

"Possibly." Jean murmurs quietly. She was already forwarding the visuals to Betsy's private and secure email address, in which Emma herself was CC'ed in on. "I think there are a few leads that Logan may have that we could possibly follow up on. It seems he went a little bit dark and I've not heard from him since.." She just shakes her head with that. "If we can find him, I think it wouldn't hurt to show him this bit."

She cringes slightly, flops back. Her flopping may hurt Betsy, but she was a big girl, she should be used to it. "First. Food. Tell me what you want for breakfast and I'll go make. I need to cook."

Betsy's tough and strong, so the slump against her side doesn't remotely phase her. "Sausage and eggs, naturally," she tells Jean, stroking her hair soothingly. "Proper British breakfast fare. Is that all right by you, darling?"

"Sausage, eggs.. maybe a muffin or two." Jean nods faintly, looking up towards the ceiling. The stroking of her hair gives off and aire of relaxation that has her closing her eyes. "That's fine by me. Just.. not right now. Think I rather stay here for a moment or two.."

And then there was nothing. Nothing but the quiet sounds of a ticking clock and the horrid sounds of Jean lightly snoring.

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