15349/When a Rock Meets a Hard Place

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When a Rock Meets a Hard Place
Date of Scene: 16 July 2023
Location: Hellfire Club - Manhattan
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Emma Frost, Elektra

Emma Frost has posed:
Normally, Emma Frost detests meeting new members and showing them around. Sometimes it was necessary, but in the overall scheme of events, Emma made herself scarce when new people were around at the Hellfire Club.

And if the management was truthful, despite her money, they were glad when she made herself scarce until they had their hooks and fingers in.

It wasn't that she didn't know how to behave (she did!), it was that she really didn't care. The Hellfire Club was her sanctum, and she didn't believe in having to put on a polite smile and be on her best behaviour. The older members seemed to know that. When they walked into the door, their outside behaviour was decidedly different, compared to their back room persona.

Not that Emma believed that either. But she was more familiar with that.

Today was different.

At first, she read the books, and skimmed over the names - the usual sorts. Except for one: Elektra Natchios.

"I will do that one myself." Which nobody was prepared for. Emma stood firm. She WAS going to do THAT one, and she stared down her nose with an utter chill, so much so that the girl whose turn is was when Tessa wasn't available, backed off.

"If you please, then, Ms. Frost. Should I have drinks, perhaps something to eat?"

Emma shooed her off, and made herself comfortable waiting in the reception area.
Elektra has posed:
The Perfect Death had no way of knowing that the White Queen had decided to take on her repatriation personally, of course. In fact, this was one of the few times that Elektra Natchios allowed events to unfold without being in absolute control of the outcome herself. The Hellfire Club, though her father may have been a member, was not a part of her domain. Their hereditary membership meant that Hugo's legacy passed to her, but up to this point, she'd never taken advantage of the Club's services.

Perhaps she had been too busy getting herself killed and resurrected. Whatever reason, today was the day she selected to formally visit the Hellfire Club for the first time.

Outside, a black, BMW 7 Series sedan pulls up to the curb and two large figures emerge -- bodyguards. One from the passenger seat, one from the driver's seat. The former steps back and opens the rear door, offering a hand to the occupant that had been obscured by the tinted windows.

A moment later, Elektra Natchios, CEO of Hellas International, extends a legs, accepts the hand, rises to her feet holding a small clutch purse. A brief word is exchanged, a small courtesy smile, and then the pants-suited woman is striding up to the door with one of those bodyguards immediately beside her at all times.

However, the door of the club is as far as the man goes. Once the door has been opened (either by the club's attendants or her own guard), Elektra exchanges a brief with with her guard, who turns and makes his way back to the car without complaint. Leaving the woman to step into the reception area herself, eyes sweeping over the establishment and setting, finally, on the comfortable-looking Emma Frost.
Emma Frost has posed:
Oh, how Emma wanted to clap as Elektra wandered up to the Hellfire Club's main entrance, and walked into it.

Although, in her mind? Oh yes, yes she did.

Standing ever so slowly, and walking halfway to the door, she stopped. Waiting for Elektra to cross the distance between them. Emma never took the final steps if she good avoid them.

"Ah, Ms. Natchios - or should call you Elektra? When I happened to catch your name, I was curious. You know, you are somewhat of an enigma. I like enigmas." Using her left arm, she makes a gesture. "Come. A drink perhaps? Then the official tour?"
Elektra has posed:
It didn't seem as if Elektra minded terribly crossing the space between them -- she was, after all, the guest. Or.. orientee. Same difference, really. In either case, she was an outsider to this place, and in these cases, the proper respect must be shown. She might not have had any interest in taking a knee, but she did offer a polite bow of her head to the senior club member when she stopped in front of her. It was as much a courtesy as it was a replacement for offering a handshake.

"As do I," Elektra answers smoothly. And the current enigma was why Emma Frost had decided to greet her personally? Maybe it's something that happens all the time, and she simply wasn't aware of it. Or maybe the White Queen really had gone out of her way.

Was she smiling a little? It's hard to tell. It's possible her lips just have a slight, natural upturn at the corners. What's the opposite of 'Resting Bitch Face?'

"Elektra, please, Ms. Frost. We're friends, aren't we?" There's a glint in her eyes, something that stops just short of being predatory. "At least, I hope we can be. And I would love a drink."

And, maybe as a sign of good faith, she took the first step towards the bar, willing to walk that stride ahead and allow Emma the 'advantage' of having access to her back. It's all very... formal. Polite. Perhaps even a bit warm. Just the CEO of one multi-national company speaking with another about entrance into an exclusive club. Nothing else going on here.

It's almost as if Elektra didn't even /realize/ that being a pace ahead made her vulnerable. As if she simply didn't think about those things.


"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," Elektra offers, glancing slightly over at the other woman. "You reputation as a shrewd businesswoman precedes you. Your success with Frost Enterprises alone is enough for me to hold you in high regard."
Emma Frost has posed:
In olden days, the woman walked two steps behind, and to the left. In each yin, there was a yang. Of course, Emma was quite happy to look over Elektra from a different angle. What did she mean by this? There was no chance that the other woman did not know about what taking the lead would mean.

And, if rumours held, Elektra wasn't a normal business woman. She was deadly. On so many levels.

"Why yes, you could say we are friends. Call me Emma." Although Emma wasn't known with absolute certainty as 'The White Queen' to anyone except the Inner Circle, she dressed the part exquisitely. Dressed in a white pantsuit - probably of Chanel label (though at her level of rich, she didn't wear the labels - just the designers), with white sandals, and a patent leather clutch, she was, from top to bottom, the White Queen.

"For a while, I was otherwise engaged. My school. The Academy of Tomorrow. It ate up more than I had thought it was going to." That, and Shaw and she had a disagreement. "Not to worry. It's done, I have returned to my social obligations."

At the bar, Emma orders from her private label scotch for her. "Scotch? Or? My treat, of course. And thank you. I have worked long and hard at Frost Enterprises to make it what it is today." Her voice contains just a little pride over what she had done. "I wouldn't have thought of you to dig beneath the usual hooplah to get at the truth. Most people find, to their detriment, that I am not just a figurehead."

She smiles.
Elektra has posed:
"Emma," Elektra repeats as if she were tasting the word. She slides up onto one of the stools and slides one leg smoothly across the other. The toe of one of her pumps perches on the stool's rung, and though she sets her clutch on the bar top beside her, she doesn't lean on it. Her hands fold into her lap, her posture precise and perfect with the kind of effortless grace that suggested both finishing school and a lifetime of social expectations.

"Then I'm fortunate to have waited and caught you when I did," the dark-haired woman offers with that ever-present hint of a smile. "Scotch sounds wonderful. Thank you."

It's the comment about being a figurehead that earns a more genuine smile.

"I make it a point to follow the careers of successful entrepreneurs -- especially intelligent women that thrive in the corporate landscape. It's not that much effort to find the true talent. It merely requires one to be paying attention."

There's a beat, then, as her gaze lingers.

"And anyone who mistakes you for a figurehead is not paying attention."

That gaze lingers a moment longer, and then she turns to gaze around.

"Not to be trite, but.. this is quite the place. Do you come here often?"
Emma Frost has posed:
Emma's smile turns warmer, though she doesn't grace Elektra with it. Almost like a mirror, Emma's clutch is placed on the opposite side. Though, she isn't quite prim and proper with herself. More so than a regular person might have been, but in her later teen years she was kicked out.

She holds up two fingers, and turns to her guest. "You are one of the usual types. Just because you are female doesn't mean they look at you fairly. Though, I must admit, I use that to my advantage. Whatever it takes." For a moment her features are utterly cold.

And then? It's gone. Whatever caused that, has been cast aside. Emma is calm, cool, and talking to Elektra as though they were fast friends - or as fast friends as Emma allowed.

"Here?" Emma looks around. "Sometimes. I prefer the back rooms generally. It's not so.. mmm.. stuffy back there. More of the plastic personas are left at the doorways. I've spent a good few evenings playing poker in the back rooms."

The way she says it, there were more than one. Probably a room such as this, with alcoves. But the Inner Circle is a whole nother thing all together.

Apparently, there was rich, and there was RICH.
Elektra has posed:
That coldness that Elektra witnessed -- there's something about it that's so familiar, a call to and echo from within herself that earns a nod of understanding.

/You don't get what you want by day. You take it by force at night./

Her words, at one time, to Matt. Whatever it takes. But that was before she'd gotten as much control over the Beast as she has now. Not that the Beast was ever really quiet. She merely learned how to listen to other things.

"Ah. So there /is/ more than meets the eye."

It's said with that bemused expression that suggested playfulness, but the thin smile her lips pressed into made it clear she expected nothing less. Still, she seemed intrigued by the description.

"In that case, I'll be looking forward to the tour. Admittedly, I'm not much for playing cards, but it is nice to find a comfortable place to occasionally have a drink and let one's hair down." There's a beat that allows a deliberate smile. "As it were."
Emma Frost has posed:
If only she knew..

/She regrets NOTHING./

"Oh, there are lots of things that go on behind the doors to the back rooms - not just poker. Intellectual conversations. Business deals. Probably some hanky-panky." Though the way she said it, it doesn't appeal much to her. As for what the Inner Circle did? Things that had consequences on a global level.

The Hellfire Club was much more than an old boys club with cigars and scotch brought over with young girls who were pretty to look at, before you ever looked at the costumes.

"You, of course, will be able to go into the back room, easily." Emma had checked. Even with the lawsuit around who got what when Elektra miraculously came back? Elektra had enough to bypass the guards at the doors. Easily.

She laughed at Elektra's joke. "I rarely let down my hair. Shall we look at them?"