No More Good Deeds Required!

November 16, 2017:

Emery finds out that Emma Frost did not make her billions by assembling care packages for the sick and wounded.

A Swanky Hotel of Emery's Choosing


NPCs: None.

Mentions: Dani Moonstar


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

There are 2 things Emery has never done since he started working for Emma Frost. 1, served her bad wine. 2, missed a scheduled workday. Even with needing to sleep for almost an entire day to physically recover from going a couple of rounds with a demonic entity and its marksman of an avatar…he still managed to send a message to 'Tasha' to let her know that would need to handle the scheduling and checks and balances remotely and would not be able to attend to Miss Frost's breakfast and morning needs personally. Citing, 'feeling under the weather' as a reason.

That is why, after his exhausting recovery 'nap' he is at a high-end hotel, having rented out a suite with internet access and the Irishman is busy coordinating driving schedules, delivery schedules and staff vacation days but…he was not available to make 'Milady' a cup of coffee.

He settled at a table in the hotel room, his slender black laptop open and his cellphone still charging as he rests his forehead on his folded arms against the table. There's a large Yeti sized cup beside him, probably not filled with tea or coffee and he wears simply a pair of comfortable black sweatpants.

His hair is not pulled back, it is left to hang in its dark waves around his face and down to the nape of his neck. He has bandages wrapped around his chest and ribs, wrapped around to his back allowing peeks at the angel wings tattooed there that take up his entire back. Of course his other tattoos are on display as well but he is over everything and the most. Even as he reaches with a hand to idly scroll past a few coffee bean options on the screen and sigh softly.


The first point certainly makes a compelling case for Emery to be forgiven for a lapse of the second.
Tasha let Emery know that she appreciated the help, because Frost's schedule has been even more difficult to parse than usual, and there have been certain days where poor Alex has just disappeared in 'on-call' blackholes with his employer. And Frost has been particularly… particular. But, for the most part, Emma's assistant is content to just let it go. After all, he's never asked for a day to himself before, and there's no reason to suspect it might become a habit.

But perhaps it comes as something of a surprise when there is a rap at the hotel door. …Well, less of a rap than a thunking sound.

Thunking and grumbling. Clearly, not the maid service at this very posh establishment.


The Irishman jerks slightly at the sound of the thunking sound, lifting his head and squinting towards the door. With a slow blink he carefully closes the laptop and pushes himself to his feet. Padding over to where his duffel bag rests beside the bed he kneels down for a moment to rummage around, straightening back up with a small knife in his hand and he calls out. "Ah, just a minute!"

Knife is held behind his back as he leans forward to open the door with a shake of his head, body tense and he holds his breath for a moment.

And there, with absolutely none of the graces that a professional might lend to situation, is one Emma Frost with oversized BVLGARI sunglasses obscuring half her face, her hair pulled up into a neat chignon, a fur-lined suede duster (all in white, of course), and a pair of tan slacks with little black points from her stiletto heels poking out.

In her hands, a small travel box of coffee with its fixings. In her arms, a large, nondescript brown bag precariously balanced and the contents within pinned in place by her chin. And from her shoulder, her large messenger bag purse. She starts to walk in without even waiting for Emery to move out of the way.
"Oh, good," she tells him, voice painted with a subtle note of relief. "I was afraid I was going to drop all of this. All the luggage carts were occupied, and I so very much wanted to bring it up myself."

Knife? Schmife. If she has any awareness of its presence, there's no sign of it.


"Milady…?" Comes the almost strangled greeting as Emery's eyebrows shoot up and he stabs the knife into the doorframe to free up his hand and he staggers forward slightly to hold out his arms to try to take the boxes with a hint of alarm. "I…well, let me help ye milady." He looks around and closes the door with his foot.

"I'll have a word with the staff?" Its another question statement because he's still letting his brain catch up to the scenario. "I-Is everything alright Milady?" Yes, he's bandaged up and half-naked but manners maketh man or something.


"Shoo! I've got it, I've got it," Emma replies, trying to swat Emery off with a wildly winging elbow. It doesn't help her look less ridiculous, as she tries to make her way to whatever flat surface is closest and clear. In fact, it only causes her purse strap to slip, and the woman nearly loses hold of the coffee trying to keep the bag from hitting the floor. This in turn makes the grip on the paper sack more precarious, and… yeah. Her glasses tilt just a little bit off-balance, but still manage to obscure her eyes.

"I'm not about to ask a dying man to carry the things he didn't ask for."


Hands are held up defensively as Emery just blinks a few more times, biting his lip to keep from chuckling. He does lean forward a bit from time to time with a steadying hand but thankfully the nearest flat surface isn't that far from the day and he quickly picks his laptop up and tosses it onto a chair to make room. "I, well. Okay Milady…" He is not arguing with a woman. But he does start to lift his arms again and have to stop as something pulls and he exhales softly. "I'm alright, Milady."


The coffee is safe as she manages to get it on the table. The paper sack… smooshed and leaning with a bit of an angle that speaks entirely of unstably stacked contents, but probably still okay as it makes it up there, too. And then, once Emma isn't so keenly focused on not killing herself or her precious cargo, she adjusts her sunglasses back to their right position and brushes a stray blonde tress out of her face with the back of her hand with all of the pride of a job well done.

She pointedly ignores anything coming from Emery's corner until she's actually done all of this, and then turns and studies him. She pauses, and then her finger comes up to pull her enormous sunglasses down her nose so she can study him further over their black-mirror edges. "You certainly look less dead than I was anticipating," she agrees slowly.


A concerned look goes from the coffee and bag and such and then back to Emma and then back to the bag and the back to Emma. The Irishman starting to fold his arms over his chest, then he has to pause in mid fold and slowly lower his arms back to his sides. Bad move. He just gives a small nod and flashes what he hopes is a reassuring smile. He does look utterly and completely exhausted.

He gestures towards the bags. "Should I…get those unpacked Milady, or…"

He processes what has been said though as he looks down his body and back up at Emma. "Rumors of me death have been greatly exaggerated, I promise."


"Well, that's a relief," the woman continues as she blocks the way for her employee to get to her poor abused care package, although there is a certain note of… of something else in her voice. Pale blue eyes narrow with what might be considered an uncomfortable show of intensity, and the small curl of her smile dulls a little. "Have they?" she asks after a long moment.

Then her eyes glance to the knife still hanging in the doorframe.

They then slooowly slide back to Emery. "Perhaps, you're right, Mister Papsworth. But I do feel inclined to ask by how much?"

The moment of levity quickly evaporates. "Do sit down, hm?"


The backs of his knees are hitting the mattress before he sits down rather quickly. He follows orders well, its what he does. Emery just clears his throat and lifts an arm slightly to adjust the bandage wrapped there and then lowers his arm with an almost sheepish expression. "Well, the shot missed me heart and the knife missed my kidney by about 3 or so inches…but the rest is just mostly bruising."

He is trying to be reassuring, really. Moving a hand to his head. "I made sure…to get some sleep." He lowers his eyes for a moment, deep breathing through the flashbacks. Pokers, Whips, Knives….burnt flesh, fresh blood, parting skin. Its not real but it is. It felt real but it wasn't. Penance for every life taken.
He clears his throat. "I was in no state to be around ladies."


"Oh, pish," Emma chides sharply, and she sighs heavily as she turns back around to see to the contents of her bag.

As she starts to unload it, the table quickly becomes cluttered. There's pain medication of every over-the-counter variety available. Cough syrups. Medicinal herbal teas. A bottle of honey, and one of Jameson. A couple of lemons. A fancy clamshell takeout box from a nearby upscale bistro that's got a pastrami sandwich and hot fries in it, with a set of disposable silverware. A tub of chicken soup. A bagel. A bagel with lox and cream cheese.

…Emma really, really doesn't know how to build a care bag.

"So, what did you tangle with, hm?"


There's a small smile that flickers over Emery's lips as he watches the various care package items get unpacked and his eyebrows raise a fraction but he nods slowly to himself before sighing softly. "Dun laugh. But, a while back I got into a fight with a demonic bear. I dun tink it was very happy with how that went, so…" He trails off and then huffs out a breath. "The moterf*cker kidnapped me Nanny, so I'm screwed for childcare for a bit. I mean, yeah it gave her body back but it kept her soul so she's just like this breathing body existing but not living…" He gestures slightly with a hand. "Obviously I had to fight it, but it had backup this time and the backup shot me and stabbed me before I started fightin the bear and at the end of the day somethin' not…normal hit me and knocked me arse out after I bit the damn bear and when I get knocked out, I can't always wake up on me own…but a magical doctor found me and this other bloke's body in the street and patched us up." A long pause before he points at the bottle of Jamenson and the pills. "…do ye mind?"


Emma Frost, clearly the best nursemaid in the world, smiles and shakes her head. Her offering is accepted by the one who cooks her things! This is very good. "If I minded, I wouldn't have brought them," she tells him, backing away to go find an empty cup wherever it's stashed in the posh hotel room.
"Something not normal?" she then inquires as she circles back. Then, she takes a long slow breath. "Went for the mind? Or just decided to hit you with a… paw? I have to say, as far as excuses for missing work go, that's pretty impressive."


"Glasses are in that small cabinet beside the mini-fridge Milady." Emery offers softly before rubbing a hand over his face.

"Oh, I got walloped by a paw as well. But I dun tink it was the bear that got me with the mind thing. I only sleep about two times a week, three on holiday weeks and I try to avoid gettin' blacked out but whatever hit me, hit me in me brain and made me lose consciousness." He rubs two fingers against his temples, closing his eyes.


By the mini-fridge and back again… maybe with two glasses. …Definitely with two glasses. Emma turns them up and sets herself to the work of unboxing the 18 year whiskey and getting a very generous portion measured out. Now that has the practiced ease of familiarity, all art and show as she tilts glasses and bottle for a refined pour.

"And no lingering effects mentally? Hallucinations? Odd memories? Strange feelings?" Awfully nosy, isn't she? So nosy. And she asks these things as though she weren't asking a man if he felt crazy after a crazy, unreal experience. She's also taking talk of a demon bear very calmly.

A glass is held out for Emery. She keeps the other, although she holds it up in an offer to clink glasses together as a toast.


The Irishman accepts the glass with a murmured 'thank you milady'. He even clicks his glass against the woman's with a small nod before taking a sip and then answering the questions at hand. "I'm honestly, not sure. When I get knocked out, or lose consciousness…my brain doesn't work like normal. Its very complicated. I'm mentally and physically exhausted, like I've been through 3 unexpected marathons."
Emma meets the gratitude with a unintelligible murmur that seems to have the general sentiment of 'but of course.' But then she goes back to watching Emery with that dissection-worthy gaze and continues to tilt her head, this way and back again as she leans against the table. She drinks her whiskey with arms crossed, and then… eh. He probably won't notice.

She pokes at his mind a little, to see if has the basic structure of the last time she went spying. To be sure there's nothing of immediate concern.

"I'll want you to take a couple more days then." The words cover, perhaps, her prying. At least her prying is coming from a good place? A place of some concern is a good place, right?


That wall that Emery isn't even fully aware of, that keeps those memory like fragments at bay is still in place, but there are a few memories of what happens when he sleeps that splash out or trickle through a faint crack here and there. His fatigue connected with it being normal for the body to attempt to sleep constantly being fought by his own stubbornness is what has caused the wear and tear. Those fragments are angry and swirling and queued up just waiting to pounce the moment he falls asleep.

But other than that…it is business as usual. Battered yet not Broken. Emery takes another sip of his drink, chuckling softly and giving a small nod. "If that is what you'd prefer Milady, I'll take a couple more days. But I still would like permission to make sure the scheduling is as it should be and the housekeeping running smoothly. Near the holidays, sometimes…there's a natural inclination towards complacency."


Emma sips lightly, weighing what she finds, and then her quip is simple as she shrugs. "I'll just shackle Alex to the car and the rest can wait a couple of days. It'll be fine."

Pushing off the table, she then crosses the small distance betwixt herself and her employee. "In the meantime, if you need something," other than care packages, clearly, "please let someone know? If you collapse into a coma, the household will fall apart anyway." She kids. Mostly.


Dark gaze falls on the very unique care pckage before flicking back to Emma as the Butler is genuinely touched at the also unique brand of concern. Emery does have to pause though at the idea of shackling. "Careful, Milady, he might like that a /wee/ bit too much." He winks and takes another sip of his drink, closing his eyes and smiling a bit as he nods slowly. "I will…try to do better at lettin' people know when I'm in need. I won't collapse into a coma without your knowin'. I promise."


Would Alex like it? Emma offers a wordless, theatrical shrugs with all the feather-lightness of the sigh she feigns. She could hardly be blamed for that, now could she?

But then there's the rest. Promises to do better. "Good!" she praises brightly, suddenly all smiles as her desires find fertile ground and seem in a good place to bloom. The knife in the doorframe. The bandages wrapped around her butler. The weighty fatigue that drags on him. These are ignored. "Then I'll let you get back to getting better. And… the other things." The strange, otherworldly things that encroach upon the waking world. The missing nanny soul. "If you need help with those, you let me know, too. I might be able to find someone of use."


Emery smiles softly and bows his head before asking carefully. "There is one…thing Milady, I'm not sure if you would or would not know. But have you ever heard of a girl named Dani Moonstar?" He squints a bit and tilts his head to the side. "I'm newer to this city but apparently she has a flyin' pony like horse…which I'm sure stands out in a city like this." He stares at the knife in the door. "Just…askin'. And thank ye again Milady. For the tings." He gestures towards the table.


"You're welcome." There's a pause that follows, and then a flaxen eyebrow raises as Emma looks at Emery with a small amount of a sudden wariness. "I have," she says, slowly. "In passing." Which is more or less the truth. Common areas of uncommon interest tend to do that.


"Be…careful of her, Milady." Emery provides the soft words of caution. "That is if ye see her. That's the one who attacked me, but she was fightin' for that bear. I'm worried about her now. So, if ye do hear anyting about her, know she's probably not herself." He nods and takes a long sip of his drink. "That poor girl…"


"I will definitely bear that in mind, thank you," Emma says quietly as she puts her glass down once she's quaffed down another large measure. She sets her pale gaze towards Emery's darker own, and smiles cordially. "Get better soon, Mister Papsworth. I'll see you in a few days." Pulling her purse up and throwing the strap back onto her shoulder, she adjusts her sunglasses and begins to walk towards the door with a swaying step as her confidence and pride slowly resume their place over her posture and stride.

One good deed done for the day; no more good deeds required!

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