Dress to Impress

April 12, 2017:

Jean and Scott try to recruit Emma back in to the X-Fold


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

A cool day, some overcast and on the side of chill but not miserable. Upper East side of Manhattan is bustling with it's usual activity, an attractive sprawl with a wide stooped center main street, Scott is striding with some form of purpose a deep grey bomber jacket, worn-stylized jeans, black boots with a single buckle and his hands tucked in to his pockets. Ruby quartz sunglasses worn despite not entirely being necessary.
"Do you think we can afford the restaurant she picked?" A joke of sorts from Scott as he keeps his attention fixed forward looking for a wine bar. That is all he recalls about it. There could be many of those.

It is not often the X-Men extend requests to anyone, especially Emma Frost but Scott through Charles wanted to have a meet and greet with the White Queen. If she shows he'll be surprised. But thats just step one.

"There it is." The Affluent. The wine bar in question is a rustic looking spot with a back garden, the garden is accessible to VIPs and those who have purchased the more expensive of wines. Scott knows already he is going to stand out like a sore thumb in a place like this. Maybe he should have worn a scarf?

Jean chuckles softly at Scott's question, easily keeping up with him. (Years of practice.) She wears a well-tailored, dark brown leather blazer over a stylish green top and designer jeans, an upscale purse on her shoulder and well-heeled shoes on her feet. So, Scott can coast in at her side without fear. "That's what expense accounts are for," she suggests. This is X-Men business, after all. Or Institute business. Something like that. There's a connection there. So, they'll make it work one way or another. (Jean likes to leave those sorts of details to the accountant… whomever that may be; it's not her.)

Oh, she's hardly about to stand the X-Duo up. In fact, Emma Frost was there some time prior to the appointed hour, so as to make certain she didn't have to hear any arguments about having two of those very expensive bottles of wine, a syrah and a riesling for the curious reader, set out as an offering. It's been paired with a perfectly divine and palate-appropriate offering of chocolates, cheeses, and fruit on the table at two o'clock in the afternoon.

And there she waits, out of doors, for the maitre'd to show in the illustrious couple. Despite the overcast day, she's got her own sunglasses on and a white organza fascinator pinned to her hair with a large woven bloom, set at a jaunty angle. Her light wool duster, a creamy knit, is really unnecessary with the gentle heat that radiates to stave off any ill effects from the breezes that blow, but she seems relaxed enough as she lounges in the comfortable chair in its luxe surroundings. Long legs, wrapped in woolen trousers of the same off-white hue as her sweater, cross languidly. And her mind? Locked down like a fortress.

And, to her credit, she has not yet even had the server open the wine. Her glass of water, however, is half-empty and stained by her red lipstick.

It is almost as stereotypically expected that Scott at the door gets a sneer from the maitre'd. If not for the name drop of "Miss Frost" and Jean's wealthy-chic appearance they likely wouldn't have been allowed in. She knows Scott too well, he doesn't like to spend money on anything but the essential, if not for a few hobbies and insistence from other X-Fam he would live a rather Spartan lifestyle.
"There she is." The tall brunette man gestures with an uptip of his chin, despite the fact their escort was already leading them back to her.

Jean could give the man a mental 'push' to make him better inclined to see Scott more favourably, but she doesn't. It's not generally her wont to be that manipulative. Instead, like Emma, her mind is tightly guarded, that defense extended to her beau. So, while she can sense the surface thoughts and emotions of those around her, she doesn't do so actively and nothing is leaking out from either her or Scott. As they approach the table, she gives Emma a courteous smile, thoroughly professional and businesslike, though friendly enough to avoid being cool or offputting. She's got pretty decent bedside manner, at the end of the day, and it serves her well in most public situations. "Good afternoon, Emma," she greets the blonde evenly. "Thank you for inviting us."

Emma considers the two, deigning to remove her own thin-rimmed sunglasses so at least she hides a little less behind their large and glassy, mirrored lenses. "I'm always game for a little mid-day company," comes the swift reply, her pale, kohl-lined eyes considering the two with an appraising gaze worthy of a jeweler. She does not rise nor does her posture change as they approach, and the host only receives a cursory smile of acknowledgment for his service.

"Although, I confess I was a little surprised for the call. Rather piqued my curiosity." From the corner of her eye, or the periphery of her awareness (however you wish to look at the matter), the blonde spies their table's appointed server. "One moment." She holds up a finger to her fellow guests, hopefully to pause their thoughts, as she gets the young man's attention and then points at the wine bottles. These, now. Once he's making his way in their direction to start opening her selections, she continues. "I trust you're both well enough?"

Scott draws out Jean's chair out of force of habit and just old fashioned manners before dropping his lanky form in to his own. The act so casual he doesn't even realize he does it. "Yeah, thanks." The glasses remain. They're a set fixture for the X-Men's former leader and tactical expert.
"It's only in part a social call. You're looking to be doing well as always?" Small talk. A struggle. He's always been a cut to the chase kind of guy.
Any attempt to take his jacket from him is ignored, he really doesn't think they need to see the Captain America shield t-shirt underneath. If he looks out of place now he will especially then. The drab grey bomber remains.

«Don't need to say I told you so.» An 'open' minded thought string intended for the obvious.

Jean accepts the seat Scott draws for her with a small smile of thanks. "Well enough," she says smoothly to Emma, all but ignoring Scott's mind comment — her acknowledgement of it is little more than a brief, dry sideways glance that hardly lasts a fraction of a second. "We wanted to see how you were doing," she continues, sure that Scott will burst into pieces, soon, if he isn't allowed to dispense with the smalltalk. "Charles suggested the meeting, so here we are." She smiles, though, to take any sting out of what she's said, as there's none intended. It's just a passing of fair information.

The sample of wine the red and white are both poured, and Emma lifts a hand wordlessly to suggest that her guests get the opportunity. The syrah before her male guest, and the Riesling in front of her fellow telepath. The smooth and featureless presence where the blonde's brain should by all rights bleed thought is conspicuous, but still waters do run deep.

"That's very kind of him, after all that he did for me," the White Queen replies, although there is a faint tightness to her tone. "But I am very well now," she offers back. "Back in the saddle, as they say, and stocks up four percent." Her eyebrows lift as she waits for the verdict of her cellar selections from her guests. "I hope you don't mind that I went ahead and ordered a couple of my favorite bottles for us. It's a little early, but it's five o'clock somewhere, yes?"

It should go without saying that Charles would send them to check up on one of the most dangerous telepaths in the world. Especially since she didn't fully assimilate in to the X-Men horde. Even though that isn't what this is about its still a note of consideration. "Thanks, uh, red is fine."

"It's the Professors way. Even if you're not one of us, you're still one of /us/. We look out for our own." Scott glances around behind the red lenses, a precaution to make sure theyre in a safe earshot even if either one of the women he is with could make everyone here completely numb to the conversation. Clueless the mutants were even present if they so wished.

It's unlikely, given both Emma's and Jean's proclivity towards keeping mutant conversations away from hostile ears, that anyone else in the restaurant will have the slightest clue what topic the trio discuss. Even without being a telepath, however, Jean can tell Emma has no intention of 'warming up' to them in any true fashion. Cordial relations? Sure. Buddies? Not a chance.

She accepts the Riesling with a smile and takes a moment to savour its bouquet before taking a small sip. "It's very nice," she says after another moment of letting the wine sit on her tongue. She's actually not much given to drink, and unlikely to finish much of the glass, but she can be polite.

"But, yes," she says then, picking up the conversation once more. "The professor does tend to want to make sure that those of us he's helped remain well. I'm glad you have."

Emma takes the bottle of syrah once the first portions are measured and the server dismissed, pouring for herself a glass with an artful stream. It's just a smidge over halfway full, a smidge past socially acceptable restaurant portioning. And she really doesn't care.

For Grey's politenesses, Frost can offer something akin: "Thank you." Perfectly manicured fingers reach out to snag the glass and bring it to her waiting lips. After a deep pull from it, savored with eyes closed, the glass is set back down. There is the matter of Summers's sentiments to address, then. "I suppose," she allows over a long sigh, "in the grand scheme of things, heand you by discipleshiparen't really that far off the mark. Genetics can, to some limited extent, create strange ties that defy familial bonds. And the world changes more still." Her eyes lift skyward, to the gauze-draped pergola that overhead, as she drawls slowly towards the philosophical. "But the more things change, they also say, the more they stay the same. Humans will do what humans do."

"And so will mutants, so will these inhumans." Scott reminds. He gets what she is saying but hes just that sort.

"We could use your help on several fronts, Miss Frost." No beating around the bush now. "And we're curious what your stance is. How do you feel about what is happening right now in the world? They're not mutants these, inhumans, but they're as close as it gets, that bond is there. They're just like us and they're in need. We can only assist so many but you have considerable resources and wealth at hand. You could be a huge asset to us."

Jean falls silent as Scott explains the more business-like side of their meeting. It's always difficult, however, to ask for money. Xavier's resources are fairly robust, given the nature of the Institute and the X-Men's holdings. But they can't afford everything.

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