11878/Shipping It I

Shipping It I
Date of Scene:	31 July 2020
Location:	Emma Frost's Posh Manhattan Office
Synopsis:	Emma Frost & Garth of Shayeris discuss Atlantean politics and the shipping business. Garth accidentally gets a date.
Cast of Characters:	Tempest, Emma Frost

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Tempest has posed:
    Emma's assistant notified Emma Frost of her appointment being present. "Prince Garth of Shayeris, he's an Atlantean." Her eyes were the size of saucers. The woman at Emma's instructions exited and returned after a couple of long moments, giving Emma any time she might need to prepare.

    The young man who enters looks like a prince. Maybe not blond like the Aquaman, but still, princely. Around six feet and clad in glittering blues, greens, and slight silvers in the scales of his uniform, Garth looks like a prince. He walks in, and pauses at the door, turning his head quixotically. Surprise registers on his face.

    "Miss Frost. I am Garth of Shayeris. I do not have a surname, so I cannot share it. I am pleased to meet you. Forgive my pause? I underestimated you; I expected a woman of your accomplishments to be significantly older. I shall not make that mistake again." His hand is warm and dry, not at all what one might expect from an Atlantean.

Emma Frost has posed:
Seated at her desk when the assistant comes in, the elegant blonde takes those few moments to be certain of her composure. She's curious what a Prince of Atlantis wants to speak of, but a neutral demeanour serves her well. As he enters the office, Emma comes to her feet. Her white-blonde hair is confined to a sleek chignon and the white slacks and sleeveless V-necked camisole top looks to be of high-quality silk. White heels give her an additional several inches in height, putting her right around 6 feet tall. The woman is likely rarely at a disadvantage.

"Good morning, your highness," she greets him calmly. "You are too kind. Please," she gestures toward chairs set around a low coffee table instead of the more formal desk seating area, "take a seat. I must admit to being quite curious about your visit today. Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee, water?" She can't help herself from taking a light mental brush across his surface thoughts just to get a feel for the man.

Tempest has posed:
    To call his mind shielded is to be too generous. Disciplined and powerful is perhaps better. Much like the ocean, it is deep and along the way there is turbulence. The surface today at least, is placid. HIs surface thoughts are cordial. He is sedate, calm, and focused. While he is a man and has noticed her appearance, his attention on that part of the mental equation has to do with deciphering the color of her eyes. He cannot tell if they are blue or green. Apparently he has some color blindness when it comes to such things. Certainly he registers that she is attractive, but it is the enigma of her eyes that has his attention at first blush.

    An undercurrent beneath reveals he is here on business, and though it could be unpleasant business, he is resolute. When he said he would not underestimate her again, he meant it. Her business accomplishments are a mental list, and he had calculated she must be a woman in her mid forties, at the youngest, to have established herself as well as she has. His estimation of her has been raised. It is likely not the first time her relative youth has been noticed, but it is one of the few situations where he appraises it as a sign of strength. So many others are quick to dismiss her due to her age and her gender.

    He is subtly calculated. Garth is an outsider and he is attempting to use his atlantean garb and his status as a known hero to establish a position of power. His congenial attitude is not an affectation; he is genuinely nice. He is prepared to be less so, but to Garth it simply is natural to be nice first. It is his counterpart's issue if they confuse congeniality with weakness.

    Garth shakes his head. "I try not to resort to packaged beverages unless they are glass and recycled. Thank you. I would be an immense hypocrite otherwise." He waits for the woman to once again be seated before he sits. He has good manners. "Your time is valuable. I will be direct. My people live under the ocean, obviously. We breathe water. Your trade routes and thus your ships cross over our sovereign waters on a daily basis." He lifts his left hand to forestall any concerns she might have. "We do not want that to change. We would like you to start using cleaner engines and greener technologies. We also understand there are costs associated with that, and that is regrettable. We are going to put a moratorium on vessels in our waters in the next decade that do not meet certain environmental regulations. Your fleet is one of the greener fleets. You meet those standards in aggregate, though some of your older vessels do not. We would like to start a program where your vessels can sport an 'Atlantis Approved' mark should they meet or exceed those guidelines."

    He seems to feel he has spoken quite enough, and pauses, giving a little gesture with his right hand indicating he is done. It is a welcoming gesture and princely without much of a trace of arrogance.

Emma Frost has posed:
She moves gracefully, smoothing the back of her slacks down in a practiced motion, as if used to keeping wrinkles right out of her clothing as she sits. Emma crosses her legs and leans forward attentively on her knee while he speaks, her hands clasped together. Those who underestimate her due to her appearance and gender are clearly in for a rude awakening if the intensity of her sea-blue eyes is any indication. She is certainly studying him thoughtfully, fascinated at the lavender eyes and the way he carries himself, but she is by no means underestimating *him*. It perhaps becomes evident as she responds.

"Since we became aware of Atlantis and it's claims over the waterways, I have taken many steps to accelerate our move toward cleaner energy. It is? expensive," she agrees, "but anyone with half a brain should have seen the writing on the wall as soon as you made yourselves known. Polluting the only planet we have is short-sighted, at best, and it never ceases to amaze me the arrogance of some men." Women are not exempt from her scorn by any means, but much of the worldwide economy is controlled by men and while she can be quite cutthroat in her business dealings, there are certain biases that she has. And her own arrogance, of course.

"You are essentially giving us a ten-year warning, then? That should we not meet your standards, our businesses will be?. what? Forfeit?" Emma proves a little deeper into his intentions -- will they attack vessels, merely force them off course, what exactly is the threat here?

Tempest has posed:
    "My eyes are an ill-omen amongst my people." Garth says, having noticed the attention they draw. HIs cheeks show a faint flush. "I am a magus, which is a respected profession, but with my purple eyes, I am a particularly powerful one. When combined with the greater physical gifts and the .. influence? I have over water and aquatic life as a result of royal blood? I am regarded by some as a monster." Garth explains it casually. His cheeks redden ever-so-slightly more. "What color are your own? My eyes are superior to most human eyes in many measurable ways. They are not so good at allowing me to differentiate between blue, green, and black." Garth's swimmer's shoulders give a little, slightly abashed shrug. "Your eyes are very lustrous. They reflect a lot of light. They have a sparkle. What shade is that, exactly?"

    To her mental senses it is both sincere and calculated. He wants to know because he thinks they are lovely. He is also seeking to cushion the blow to his next words.

    "Ships that cannot meet our higher standards will be politely barred from our territorial waters. They can go around." Garth pauses. "We have a lot of territorial waters. It might be quite some distance." His tone is faux apologetic. There is steel in there. "Ships that persist entry into sovereign Atlantean waters will be treated just like any other nation treats interlopers, they will be boarded and forced to exit." Garth pulls in a soft breath. "Again. We are approaching you first as almost to a ship you meet our standards already. I do not know what you are burning on board, and I do not need to know, regardless, we are seeking responsible partners who can see the wisdom in being able to market themselves as more environmentally friendly."

    Garth tilts his head. "In the future, such companies -might- be able to license Atlantean aquatic technology to further increase the speed and fuel efficiency of their ships for a pittance, once we have established a genuine relationship of trust. This is everyone's planet; we are willing to share the fruits of our technology with like-minded people who share our morals." Unsaid is the understanding that Atlantis is slow to trust and such efforts will take a long time.

Emma Frost has posed:
Tipping her head, Emma considers what she's been told. To give herself a little time, she moves to stand up and retrieves a glass of water from a tray that sits on a sideboard in her office with lemons floating among the ice cubes. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a drink?" she asks politely. "And my eyes are blue," she adds with a faint smile. "I could wax poetic about what kinds of blue, but honestly? They're just blue." She has an amusement about that reply that is understated and in no way condescending -- she finds his question a bit charming. Or maybe it was the sparkling eyes part? (It's really just the sincerity.)

"I appreciate the opportunity you're presenting me with, your highness," she says as she returns to her seat. "I make it my business to try to be forward-thinking, and knowing that Atlantis would at some point have to ?. make their stance a little more militant? ? to get the cooperation of nations, it makes me happy to learn that my efforts are not in vain."

Tempest has posed:
    "Please? Just Garth. Save the honorifics for Namor and the Aquaman. I am now, and will always be, simply Garth." His smile is a soft flicker before hs gives a faint shrug of his shoulder to explain, "No one likes a bully, Miss Frost." The reply is delicate. "We would rather discuss the benefits rather than issue threats." Again, he has a soft smile. "Hence ten years. By our estimation that is a long enough period for refits to happen, and indeed are likely scheduled, for most ocean transports. We are trying to be reasonable. We are of the opinion that everyone is entitled to clean water? Aren't you?"

Emma Frost has posed:
"I think there are a number of things in this world that people *should* be entitled to," Emma agrees mildly, "though the reality of those entitlements being delivered upon is more unlikely than it should be. In this endeavour, however, I am in agreement." Her smile is faint. "If I must drop the title, so must you. Please, call me Emma. Now? you've mentioned that by and large my fleet is already in compliance with your requirements. I will do my best to get the rest of them within the bounds as soon as is financially feasible."

She pauses. "It won't take ten years." Is she teasing him? Maybe a little. "So that brings us, of course, to the rest of the reason you came -- if we are already mostly within compliance to your desires, you've offered the carrot. Better tech for our vessels and so forth. Is getting the rest of my fleet refitted all you wished to ask of my company?"

Tempest has posed:
    "No, Mi-- Emma." He says the word as if trying it out. It's an exotic name to his mouth. He pauses to smile. "Sorry. It is as funny a word to my ears as my name must be to yours." Considering her with a more relaxed look, Garth gestures with his right hand. "Once our lawyers and yours hammer out an acceptable language for partnership that allows you to depart it should we embarrass you, and I might, and allows us to do the same, Atlantis will be announcing this partnership and the program at the United Nations. Of course, once the partnership is reached I am certain you will be able to use it to your advantage in advertising your services."

    Garth considers. "Also, I returned a bit of garbage one of your vessels threw overboard. Your security man downstairs was unhappy with it, but one step at a time. Your company is not one of the great offenders. Others are far worse. They can expect greater amounts in the next few weeks." Seems Atlantis is getting serious about the oceans. "With utmost respect, my garden is not for your garbage. Again, we checked your policy manual-- it was available online. Whomever threw this overboard violated company policy. You run a remarkably forward thinking company, Emma. I do very much hope that more in your industry might come around to your way of thinking."

Emma Frost has posed:
The news that he 'returned' something brings her brows down. "Ruiz will be making certain that word goes out to the captains about such behavior," Emma tells him quietly. If she is going to have a business relation of this caliber with Atlantis, she'll be damn sure her employees toe the line or they're gone. "I cannot promise we will be perfect, but as you've already ascertained, the policies are already in place." Her company is about to have some serious global cache.

Tempest has posed:
    "However close to perfection things or people might appear." That is a subtle compliment directed towards Emma. "We do not expect it." The smile that flits across his face is quick, sincere, and fleeting. Garth's right hand rises and falls. "Perfection is an elusive goal. There will be accidents. The ocean can be a fickle and cruel mistress. Things get swept overboard, things as large as full containers. We find them. We understand."

    The Atlantean prince considers. "We have attorneys. They will contact yours about just what the Atlantis Approved mark will mean and how it may be used. You are cooperating with us and as our first partner you can help mold the program." Another carrot. "I warn you, though. Our attorneys are real sharks." Garth pauses a comedic beat before sending Emma a warm, bright, and wide smile. His left brow lifts and he asks, "Did I do that right?"

Emma Frost has posed:
The blonde's demeanor, cool but pleasant, cracks just a bit as she can't help but chuckle. "You did indeed. Very nicely done." Tipping her head, she studies him thoughtfully. "I doubt politics beneath the waves is that terribly different than politics above. Be careful at the UN, Garth."

Tempest has posed:
    "A well-intentioned person can be just as dangerous as a self-interested one. No one thinks they are the villain, but if you are another's rival you are the villain in their story. Consensus is hard to build on a world like ours. It will be a difficult challenge. I will make many mistakes along the way." He pauses, and fishes for a moment inside the vest of his uniform before plucking out a little water proof card carrier. "This is my contact information." He leans over to help himself to a pen. On the back he carefully scrawls out his own number. "This is my personal number. I am hard to contact, but at least you have it. The number on the front goes to our service. They will be instructed that you are on the list of people to be fast-tracked to me."

    Garth slides the woman his card and puts the pen back in place. "The Embassy when we announce the program will want to host a party. Likely white tie. It would be of imminent importance for you to be there for a good portion thereof." A part of him regrets it is simply for business, as Emma is certainly princess material- smart, capable, and easy on the eyes. He does not realize that there are social cues to handing out one's personal number.

Emma Frost has posed:
If she's surprised that he's offering contact information, it doesn't show in her face. Emma accepts the card and looks at it, and there's a subtle, almost imperceptible, pause as she realizes he's given her his personal phone number. A light surface scan of his thoughts is just to verify for herself that he doesn't quite realize the implications of handing her his personal number like that. Her lips twitch slightly as she fights to hide the widening of her smile. "I would be happy to attend the event to celebrate this partnership, Garth. The opportunity to continue to do our business while perhaps making things better for your people is a big one." They have enough problems on the ground in their world, the last thing she sees a need for is fighting Atlanteans too.

Tempest has posed:
    "You possess a remarkably clear vision, Emma." Garth says warmly. His own smile is quite wide. "I will make certain we utilize a great deal of white in the decorations for the gala, that is your signature color, is it not?" He tilts his head and relents a little. His guard drops just a little as he has accomplished everything he set out to do.
    "You have a reputation for being assertive in business. You have been very accommodating. I am thrilled. Hopefully our staffs can sort this all out amiably. I will instruct my attorneys to make certain that this is a partnership and that your attorneys are negotiating for the surface world shipping fleets, and that we are to be accommodating but that is detail work." Garth stands smoothly and offers his hand to Emma. "You have been both charming and accommodating, Miss Frost-- Emma, sorry."

Emma Frost has posed:
It hits her then, the responsibility that she's taking on with regard to this agreement. Not simply for her own fleet? they'll be negotiating for *all* ships. There's a moment when the blonde businesswoman looks quite nonplussed as she slips her hand into his. "You? do understand that while I will negotiate in good faith, I cannot speak for the world's fleets personally, yes?" Emma queries slowly, searching his features. Well?. Maybe she *could* if she so desired to bend everyone's mind to her will, but? that's just a whole lot of work she doesn't really want to do. "I can certainly encourage and nudge people along this path, but I have no power to actually enforce our contract on them."

Tempest has posed:
    "I understand, Emma. You are not the Queen of the Seas." Garth's eyes sparkle with a hint of mirth. "However appealing that might be in theory." It is so subtle that it almost is not him flirting. He's not very good at it. "You are negotiating a framework that is enough of a carrot that I will not need the stick. You do not want the stick, nor do I want to use it. My attorneys are going to negotiate to not give away the whole carrot." His lips keep quirking in a smile. "I know we live in a world of uncertainty. I shall only hold you accountable for what you yourself do, just as I expect the same courtesy. Fair enough?"

Emma Frost has posed:
Her expression relaxes and Emma's smile is easy as she comes to her feet, still shaking the offered hand. "It is fair," she agrees. "You are quite the charmer, your highness. Perhaps as we get acquainted, you'd be willing to chat with me about what you like and dislike about the surface world. You've been here for some time now. I'm genuinely curious? are most of your people telepathic?"

Tempest has posed:
    "Not at all." The handshake maybe went on a little too long. He finally releases her hand. "Very few, actually. Though there is a slight increase in Atlantean mutations. Those tend towards the physical though." Garth says it with a quiet reserve. "Only the royals tend to have the ability to communicate with or command fish. Even then, I prefer to make requests rather than commands." Garth pauses and then carefully admits. "Some might argue I am a mutant, though only in a technical sense." he indicates his eyes. "What with the magic and all."

Emma Frost has posed:
Her chin comes up just a fraction as he comments on mutants in their own midst. "Magic sets you apart," Emma muses, "just not in quite the same ways, then. And what do your people do when one is born with a mutation in your kingdom?"

Tempest has posed:
    "It depends." Garth says gently. "Mutants? Atlantean equivalents to surface world mutants?They tend to be treated according to their character." Garth's mind races. He ponders hiding it, but his features change. Garth sets his jaw stubbornly. "Purple eyed magi? Particularly royals? There is a reef where we are left for the ocean to take us. My father had to dabble in deep magics. My aptitude is the birthright of his sacrifice. My mother followed our traditions and put her only son out on the reef to be taken. I was lucky and I was saved by my master, my instructor. I am both a prince and a pariah. I think everyone is far happier when I am on the surface, Emma."

    Garth pulls in a breath. "I think partners should be honest, don't you?" Garth attempts to make eye contact, really attempting to read Emma's body language.

Emma Frost has posed:
The distinction he makes between mutants and the magical effects that give him his own abilities is one she's familiar enough with. "So they don't have the? blatant hatred for the mutations that runs rampant above the seas," she observes quietly. There's a flicker to Emma's blue eyes as she retrieves her hand. "For what it's worth, magic is not a bad thing, so far as I'm concerned. Like anything else, it's in how you use it."

Tempest has posed:
"Why would they? Our origins are known to us. Magic is feared. Every Atlantean is a mutated human. We have a city and a principality, Tritonia, where the people are what you call merfolk. How can you differentiate between that and a few random chromosomes. Mutancy is science. Sorcery is what Atlantis fears, because that is what made us what we are today. Even then, we do not fear all magic. Just the purple-eyed." He clears his throat. "Some suggest I am the prophesied destroyer of Atlantean culture. So? they might have a reason to fear me."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma makes a face at that, telling him pretty clearly what she thinks of such poppycock. <i>All they would have to do would be to touch your mind to know that such destruction is not your desire, your highness.</i> Aloud, though, she says simply, "It is human nature to fear anything that is not like Self. I'm glad to know that your kingdom's people have managed to eliminate one of those fears, even if there is still quite a ways to go."

Tempest has posed:
    "Limited it, certainly. Remember? The other Atlantean royal family is human-Atlantean hybrids with wings on their ankles. We're not a race derived from nature. There is something unnatural about us, and to deny that would be to live in denial. We flee from that, but we do not hide from it. Please do not think that Atlantis is perfect, Emma. We are just realists."

    The prince regards her. "Your concern for those who are different than the normal is commendable. I have found it is best to ignore the insults that are slung my way about my eyes and my parentage, Shayeris is full of pacifist mystics. I am an odd creature for a principality of odd beings."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma hesitates and then nods. "It is not solely altruistic," she admits reluctantly. However, she has pried into his culture on the matter, and he has been quite forthright. She can't quite bring herself, however, to simply *tell* him that she is a mutant. Instead, she says simply, "Some of my students when I am teaching have such mutations. I was curious how different your own culture is from ours."

Tempest has posed:
    "Imperfect. A work in progress. Just like everywhere else. We have a different outlook, mostly due to the context. Context is everything. It is good of you to teach though.You teach and you still created your own company, usurped your fathers, and you are my age?"

    Garth shakes his head. "I expect you will become a queen by your own hand at the rate you are going. I should hate to be in your way, Emma." Garth inclines his head in a polite princely nod.

Emma Frost has posed:
There's a flicker in her blue eyes again and Emma simply smiles. "I don't think either one of us would like that very much, Garth." There is an acknowledgement of her own ruthlessness in the words that doesn't convey in her soft tone as a threat or anything of that nature - it's simply a fact. "I learned very early to go after what I needed and not take no for an answer. I shall look forward to our next meeting."

Tempest has posed:
    "I shall as well." Garth pauses. "If you're going to be the hostess at the party are there any social norms I should be aware of?" Garth asks her. "We are working a little short-staffed on the Surface-worlder side of things." His lips quirk a little. "It's the humidity, I am sure." Garth quirks a slight smile at that.

Emma Frost has posed:
A brow quirks upward and Emma replies mildly, "Being asked to be your hostess has connotations, I suppose." She's amused and it shows. "It denotes? relationship. Rather like giving your personal phone number to a lady is usually an intent to meet again in a personal setting -- such as a meal together." She doesn't say it to embarrass him, merely giving him the facts. But she also has a subtle sense of enjoying the moment, as if a little fluster on his part is cute.

Tempest has posed:
    That makes him pause. Garth does flush. "So I now owe you a meal?" He completely misunderstands. "My staff will call your staff and make the proper arrangements." To him it is apparently not a request but a mandate. "Is seafood appropriate? I am not good at cooking much else."

    Garth pauses and considers. "Or is it more appropriate to dine at an establishment? Surface social niceties can be complicated."

Emma Frost has posed:
Now Emma laughs, a soft, genuine sound of surprise and amusement. "No, Garth, you owe me nothing. Giving me your personal number says that you would *like* me to call you if I am interested in such an evening date." She pauses and tips her head, "Would you *like* to have dinner?"

Tempest has posed:
    "I would be delighted." Garth says after actually taking a moment to consider it. "And thank you for the tips about surface world society. Might I call you to make arrangements?" Garth pushes his hand through his hair. He isn't Dick Grayson. He doesn't go on dates with exotic women.

Emma Frost has posed:
"I think I would like that," Emma tells him. "Don't worry, I promise to be gentle with you." It's clearly a tease on that one -- some of his friends in the Titans seem the somewhat aggressive sort.

Tempest has posed:
    "I am not one to break, Emma. I am sure I can withstand whatever you might do." He sounds intrigued, and he is trying to be suave. HIs face, though. It burns! Crimson cheeked and wide-eyed, he ducks his head. "I will call you in the morning to make the arrangements, Miss-- Emma?"

Emma Frost has posed:
She watches him make his way to the door with an intent expression, as if she can't quite figure out how she wound up with a dinner date. "I'll be waiting. Good afternoon, Garth." Emma's smile is thoughtful as she returns toward her desk, much on her mind.