12110/Shipping It III

Shipping It III
Date of Scene:	01 September 2020
Location:	Atlantis Poseidonis Embassy, Oyster Bay
Synopsis:	Emma and Garth discuss his tour of the mansion and have a 'discussion' about what is going on between them.
Cast of Characters:	Tempest, Emma Frost

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Tempest has posed:
The office is immaculate, though the desk shows use. Given the position of the garbage can, it is obvious Garth likes to put his feet up on the rim of it. While he has a lot going on, everything has a place. Files are labeled in some foreign language, likely Atlantean; which in and of itself is a security measure. Still, those files are clearly labeled and stacked in an order that does not make their importance immediately apparent but must make sense to Garth. The desk is large, but it has to be. He has a computer for Surface World issues and another for Atlantean; the Atlantean keyboard is a bit larger and filled with that archaic scripting.

A pool of lit water is in one corner, deep, warm, and smelling like the curated, clean water of the pelagic ocean. It adds a scent of salt to the room and serves as a reminder of the differences between the branches of humanity.

There are a pair of bookcases, one full of oceanic curios and assorted shells whose importance or origin are not immediately available. Other than a few pictures of Orin, Mera, an older man who resembles Garth who must be his father. Another of his mother. It is serene. It is quiet, and it is a little sterile other than the curios. This is the room of a man who is guarding himself from others, and in many ways is likely not all in accordance with how Garth has acted in her presence.

Garth has damp hair as he greets Emma at the door. He is wearing his usual uniform, and he leads Emma over to a comfortable chair that is perfectly positioned and lowered to be subtly subservient to whomever is seated behind the desk. "I'm thrilled to see you again. I have been busy handling diplomatic matters, so the student exchange program has taken a backseat of late, but I believe things are clearing away and I will soon be able to work more thoroughly on the project." Garth's shoulders move in a ginger, tentative shrug as if to say 'what can I do'? "The lawyers have almost hashed out the language on things. You have sharks of your own, it seems." That amuses him.

Emma Frost has posed:
As always, the woman moves with regal grace, dressed in white slacks, heels, and jacket with a silky-looking camisole beneath that is just the barest hint of ice-blue. Emma prides herself on always appearing cool and calm? even when the person in front of her stirs a ridiculous amount of consternation in her. He is not the first noble she's ever dealt with. She can handle the damn Hellfire Club, for heaven's sake! And yet every time she encounters the sea prince, she feels completely off balance. As she moves to take the seat he offers, though, she smiles evenly. "Of course I have sharks -- it wouldn't do to be taken advantage of in the shipping business. When I first got started, they seemed to think my age and gender would make me an easy target." The flash of predatory amusement across her features is perhaps a little unnerving to some. "They were disabused quickly."
    Leaning back and crossing her legs, she seems to settle herself into the seat more comfortably -- business talk is always so much simpler than personal things. The memory of his leave-taking from the tour of the school, wherein he left her speechless, is enough to have her on her guard but whenever the topic is neutral, she's in her element. "Please don't worry about the field trip -- there are a great many hoops that have to be jumped through on my end, not the least of which is clearing the trip with guardians and getting their documentation in order for the State Department." Because it's an 'official' trip, out in the open, there's all kinds of red tape.

Tempest has posed:
"Let me know if you need help with that. Some people in the defense industry are, no doubt, salivating at the prospect of someone being in Atlantis." The smile is a warm flicker. "You want a beverage, Emma?" He settles back behind the desk and pushes both of his hands through his hair, removing a couple of errant curled locks from his forehead. "I can ask the steward to prepare you one."

His position shifts as Garth pivots his chair and removes his hands from his head. "I am certain the attorneys will get past whatever issue they are bickering over. Is there anything I can do to make the process more amenable? Not that I am complaining, this just feels a little beneath your notice." Again, a little smile. This one abashed. His cheeks going softly rose in shade. "Unless there was something else you came for?" It would be a cocky and denigrating question if he was not so nervous about it. It's the tone in particular that fails to sell it; he's trying to be smooth because he is actually nervous.

Emma Frost has posed:
Blue eyes flicker briefly, and if he weren't looking so closely he might not see the subtle play of nerves in the subtle microexpressions. "Nothing about an important set of contracts like this is beneath my notice," Emma replies. "I simply wanted to make sure we were still moving forward. Besides? I was on this side of town for other business." She wasn't. "I thought perhaps I'd invite my newest business partner to join me for a drink. It isn't every day someone manages to catch me off-guard as you did on our last meeting. You should celebrate such a happening." In the back of her mind, she can practically *hear* Jean Grey laughing. Shut up, Jean.

Tempest has posed:
"Oh? That sort of drink?" Garth smoothly rises and heads over to the door. He pokes his head out, and makes a couple of polite inquiries and requests before returning. Rather than sit back down at the desk,Garth cedes that position of relative authority to sit closer in the other chair next to Emma. He pivots it to face her.

"I don't really think I caught you off guard. I do not think anyone or anything really ever catches you off guard. Not over a little thing like a kiss. You had to be expecting it. You took me on a tour, you walked me to the door, we had a brief discussion. It certainly seems to follow the social norms and expectations of you surface dwellers." Garth's tone is conversational, maybe even a little flirty. His dark brows lift over his purple eyes as he converse with Emma. His left hand grips his armrest a little. "Or am I misconstruing the social cues?"

Emma Frost has posed:
She considers her response carefully, and then acknowledges somewhat uneasily, "You are likely not misinterpreting. I must admit, however, that you *did* in fact catch me unawares." Emma can't help the light color across her cheekbones, though for the most part she looks as she usually does. She's certainly not used to having conversations along these lines. AWK-ward. "It was a pleasant experience," she admits. "I'm not entirely sure that a foray into flirtation with the likes of me is exactly in your own best interests." SHUT UP, JEAN. I can hear you from here! The worst thing is that *JEAN* is the friggin' devil on her shoulder.
    Emma pulls in a breath and then says simply, "I'm not a very *nice* person, Garth. And although you're seeing me in the context of the school, I don't want to mislead you."

Tempest has posed:
"You have been kind enough to me. Nice is a social construct. I try to be nice, but that is partly by upbringing, and partly from the realization that if I am nice and I get what I set out to accomplish actually completed I did it easily. I can always stop being nice if the situation dictates it. I like being nice. I like being kind. I also understand there are times when that is not the correct tactic. SOmetimes, particularly when my blood gets up, that is the last thing I am capable of." His train of thought is interrupted by the polite knock on the door.

Garth stands and walks over to get the tray and returns with it. He pops the cork off the bottle with a casual motion of his left thumb, neatly catching it with his right hand. "This is not a particularly expensive champagne. I'm Atlantean. I have a different set of taste receptors and any number of small differences to my sense. This is one of my favorites." It's not the worst bottle of champagne either. He pours her a flute with a casual gesture. Maybe a hair of three too much by 'polite standards', but he also fills his own even more.

"Can we have an actual discussion?" Garth switches tones, going from a relatively dry and clinical tone back to his own, more earnest and genuine tone. "I think we are misapprehending each other." He reconsiders his words. "Rather, we are simply not communicating to each other the same about the same topic?" Garth hands her the flute with a soft smile. "You first. What do you want?" His lips quirk into a wide smile as he teases her. He obviously is quite willing to open up on it. He clinks his drink to hers, then sinks back into the chair across from her.

Emma Frost has posed:
She takes the glass, sipping from it after he touches his to hers. Not bad. A light fruity tang to it. Warily Emma eyes him. "I feel more like I should be asking you that," she admits. She is clearly uncomfortable with something about the conversation. She has no idea how to manage this man -- he seems to have no personal agenda in all of this as she recognizes such. "The shipping contracts are greatly appreciated, as is the fact that you've dealt with me in person about them. Contractually there we are even. The students, however? you are doing a favor. I can't figure out what you're getting out of it. And although I *could* go searching for the answer to that in your mind? It feels like bad manners." Not something she *usually* concerns herself with at all, come to think of it.

Tempest has posed:
Garth listens, settling his chin in his palm as he does so. He takes a sip and then nods. "That is terribly nice of you to not do that." There is an emphasis on the word 'nice' that some might find grating.

"Allow me to tell you. Our business arrangements, thus far, have been pleasant. Your company is a good example to other shipping conglomerates. You negotiate vigorously, but fair. I am not going to complain if you get a little more than I wanted to give. That is a compromise. I can do business with you, absolutely."

Garth takes another sip. "Emma? I am brutally, oppressively alone." The words are quiet, the admission is personal, and he is simply telling her the truth. "I live in two worlds, and neither of them has a real place for me. Here I am forever just the fish prince, or at best a Titan. In the ocean, yes, I am a prince and I will someday be king of Shayeris. But I am also a purple-eyed magus and forever a pariah. You know me as a diplomat. There I am the prince who was to be put to death as a baby but survived." His shrug is understated, but his eyes betray that solitude. "I am lucky. I consider myself to have a good life, but outside of the Titans and the royal family, I am pretty much on my own."

Taking another drink, Garth admits. "I am going to have to find a surface girl. SHe has to be someone I am attracted to. She needs to be able to wield power and understand people. She will have to be intelligent enough and inquisitive enough to learn about my culture, and she needs to be able to help educate children." He just looks at her, giving her a moment to absorb that. "I am looking for someone who could eventually be a queen. You are the first candidate I have encountered. I rather fancy you, Miss Emma Frost." His cheeks turn a little rosy, bringing out the darker hues of his eyes.

Emma Frost has posed:
Narrowing her blue eyes on him, Emma listens intently to him as he speaks of living in two worlds. And then he just *lays it out there* that he's looking for certain things and she sets her champagne glass down. Swallowing hard, she seems to be searching for how to respond. That's twice now -- three times, if you count their first meeting -- that he's rendered her speechless. It's a record. He may also have terrified the living crap out of a woman most consider to be the Ice Queen.
    She is quiet a long few moments. "Until relatively recent times, Garth? I have been in direct opposition to the Titans and their ilk -- people like the Avengers and X-Men and so forth." She is candid. "Not so much because we were enemies as ? we'll call it enlightened self-interest, if you'd like. That's probably putting too polite a veneer on it. You are a hero in this world. I am very very far from that. And I would be lying if I said I didn't use what I can do to get myself ahead in this world." She pauses, nibbling her lip. "And I'm *not* using them on you, which makes the fact that you said that something I don't even know what to say to. I'm not likable, Garth."
    She's not! (Shut UP, Jean!) She's trying to be a better person than she has been, but ?

Tempest has posed:
"If you are not using your powers on me, then let me worry about any deficiencies I might have in my ability to determine the quality of another person's character. So, you were a bit of a selfish bitch?" Swear word. "Okay. I am potentially fated to be the downfall of all that I hold dear, the very deathknell of Atlantis. Likely because of who I am. The purple eyes. The magic. The royal blood. All of it. ANd not because I am evil. No, I will likely doom it all out of some noble impulse. That, at least, is what the most fair-handed of my critics say. These are the same critics who urged my mother to abandon me after my father died. They convinced her." Garth finishes his drink and regards her seriously.

"You are trying to be a positive force in the world. I am. You have maybe missed that mark in the past and almost certainly will miss the mark in the future. I have in the past, and I am certain I will make mistakes in the future." Garth squeezes his eyes shut. "But, we pick ourselves up after we fall."

Garth pauses, as if realizing something. "You know? Everything that you just said was about who you used to be, or what you have done in the past, or what other people will think or say. You did not say a single thing about what you thought, what you wanted, or how you felt." He leans forwards and pours himself another. His elbows rest on his knees as he leans forward. His eyes seek out her own in a brazen challenge.

Emma Frost has posed:
"Because I don't know!" Emma blurts out, moving suddenly to stand up and pace a little. "I have *no* idea how to ? how to *do* this. I am not a flirt," (for the love of God, Jean, STOP LAUGHING), "and I sure as hell have no idea how to actually be what you seem to see. I am self-interested, I am pretty damn sure that at some point the government is literally going to start a war against me and people like me, and I'm going to turn a bunch of people's brains to slag when they do! And I won't even be sorry!"

Tempest has posed:
"But you are not going to start the war." It is a statement, not a question from Garth. His head tilts to one side as he makes the observation. "You are talking about self-defense. You are talking about protecting your people. How is that any different from what a monarch would do."

Emma Frost has posed:
"Do *not* make me out to be a hero," she interjects forcefully. She is still annoyed that she got talked onto the X-Men team. And yet, she hasn't quit.

Tempest has posed:
"I most certainly am not." Garth says, his tone becoming more gentle. "There are no heroes in war. I am pointing out to you that you are talking exactly as I have heard the ruling classes in Atlantis speak. We will not cause trouble, but should trouble come to us, we will not be the losers." Garth wrinkles his nose as he listens to her, crinkling the skin in thought as he carefully considers his words.

"This is not really like you, Emma. You are holding every mistake you have ever made against you. Maybe you were awful. Maybe so? I do not know. You have not been awful to me. You have not shown any corruption in our dealings, and you have been very keen on the safety and happiness of your charges. Maybe you feel like you need redemption, or maybe that you are not worthy of it. The woman I have experienced requires no redemption." Garth tilts his head. "You should consider yourself from my perspective. Just sit. Think. And try to see things from my perspective. I think that is all you need; perspective."

Emma Frost has posed:
Pulling in a long breath, Emma lets it out slowly. What is it about this man that actually makes her lose her cool? She's not sure she likes that! "Your admiration makes me feel uncomfortable," she finally says.

Tempest has posed:
"Is it unwelcome?" Garth poses the question carefully with an open-handed gesture of his left hand.

Emma Frost has posed:
Part of her would like to just slam a 'YES!' down on the table. It is so much easier when all people have are expectations of you being a selfish bitch. And he can see the reluctance in her honesty in the way her voice is a little smaller. "No..." There's not *quite* a question mark there, though there's definitely uncertainty. Her arms are folded across her stomach. "It's just I'm --going to disappoint you. And then you won't --have lunch with me anymore."

And there it is. The hesitant realization that other people's opinions have begun to matter. Jean's. Scott's. The students'. ? And Garth's.

Tempest has posed:
He is touched. That much she can tell as his features soften. He takes in a shaky breath. "Well." There. He was not expecting that. He considers.

It takes him a long moment to decide. "That's like? dumb. Really. Dumb. That is like dumb like I am dumb. I mean." Garth is certainly winning points? He slides his hand to his nose. "They always told me I was dumb when I said stuff like that. Now that I hear you say it, I can really appreciate how tremendously stupid that is." Garth lays it on a little thick, largely due to how disappointed in himself he is.

The prince slides to his feet. "Better to just have a friend you can make moon eyes at than actually be vulnerable and able to be hurt? Huh." Garth taps his chest with his left hand. "I.. can relate. I'm the prince of that. I'm the king of letting a good thing walk away because I do not want to ruin what I have." He pauses, and can be seen to struggle for a moment with his thoughts and words. His words and his thoughts are tinged with regret."You? don't seem like the sort who wants to settle for less. Why are you settling now?" His shoulders square. "You are currently experiencing my personal brand of cowardice. I do not think you appreciate just how hard it is for me to tell you how? fascinated I am with you. Telling you that is one of the hardest things I have ever done."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma's spine stiffens at being called a coward, her blue eyes lighting with the light of battle. "I can appreciate *exactly* how difficult it is, because standing here *hearing* it makes me want to admit the same thing!" she bites out coldly. "Which means that I am already vulnerable and part of me wishes to lash out at you for the fact that your opinion means anything at all."
     Her instinct for self-preservation is something he can almost see and her chin tips upright just to the exact angle for the nobility's cut direct as she sweeps out of his office, heels clicking imperiously.

Tempest has posed:
The prince works his jaw a couple of times, shocked into silence by her words. Standing there mute, Garth stares at Emma as she leaves, her heels clicking. His eyes slide over her form and he watches her as she leaves. Finally, he drains his drink. It takes him a moment before he softly breaths out. "She likes me."