4139/Gambling with a Telepath

Gambling with a Telepath
Date of Scene:	23 March 2018
Location:	HFC, New York City
Synopsis:	Emma Frost gambles with members of the London HFC with high stakes on the table. Sebastian Shaw watches on as the fate of the Academy of Tomorrow is decided by pure chance. (OOC Note: This was an agreed upon plot device to allow Emma Frost to move on from the Academy of Tomorrow, at her request. Should a future player wish to change this, it can be returned in the same manner.)
Cast of Characters:	Spider-Man, Sebastian Shaw, Emma Frost, Nigel Frobisher, Conrad Strathdee

---

Spider-Man has posed:
Peter Parker had caught himself watching what seemed to be a high stakes poker game at the Hellfire Club function. His girlfriend was somewhere, mingling, and he was occupying himself with the game. There were a lot of chips in the middle of the table, and he had even heard one of the players, an English gentleman, raise the stakes so much that the blonde woman had to throw in some kind of school. He was too polite to look at the various player's hands, plus, some kept them so close to their chest when looking, that no one could get a look.

The community had a 2 of Hearts, Jack of Clubs, 4 of Diamonds, 5 of Spades, and Jack of Diamonds. Nothing too obvious. Someone might be lucky enough to have 3 Jacks, or better, four of them. There was potential for a low straight. Not that Peter was terribly good at gambling. He understood the rules, because he was smart and he had read them.

One of the men at the table who was still in, slid his cards towards the dealer, "too rich for my blood." The man next to him, the Englishman, grinned gleefully, and pushed the rest of his chips into the middle, "all in." Little did Parker know that the man was bluffing. He was working on a straight, but all he had was a 6 of Spades, and an 8 of Diamonds. He was betting on the last card being a 7. But he sold with confidence. Anything else, and he had nothing.

Natasha Romanova (93) has posed:
Amongst the crowd is the imposing figure of Sebastian Shaw. He was dressed in his Victorian style garb as was befitting his role. It wasn't one that most people in the Hellfire Club even understood. To them, he was a member who was one of the decision makers. They didn't realize that within the midest of the Club was the Inner Circle, a group of mutants who had their own agendas that tended toward world domination. At least, for Sebastian Shaw that was how it tended. All the others might have their own reasons.

He stood a head above many of those watching, his hair pulled back in a leather strap and long sideburns making him stand out if his clothes did not.

When the bet for the school was placed, he showed nothing on his face even as the wheels were turning inside his head.

Quentin Quire (1160) has posed:
There were two Englishmen at the table, the one who'd thrown it all in and Conrad Strathdee, the Red Bishop of London. The man looks at the pile of chips on the table, along with the deed to a school and other properties.

When the man to his right folds, Conrad, gives him an oily smile through his goatee, "Shame I was looking forward to spending your money," he says, before considering the pile. "Well since we're putting in property how about I add my house here in the Hamptons?" he asks. "Never use the damn thing much anyway, who has time to fly these days." He nods to his assistant, who produces the paperwork. "That will work, yes?"

He was working on that low straight.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost. A reputation that went before her, and a demeanour to match. The Once and Future White Queen. Others might take the name, but the role would always be hers. Though tonight it was a different role she played: that of innocent. More fool any who believed that, though.

Of course she cheated. Really, it would have been tantamount to asking her not to breathe to expect otherwise, though she'd dutifully lost a few hands to get herself to this point. There was bluffing, and there was Bluffing.

Emma Frost didn't do anything half-heartedly, especially this. And from what she could tell, the Bishop was working on a wing and a prayer looking for that straight. What with an Ace in her hand, she had a pair of Jacks and Ace high. And with the 3 of spades to back it all, the potential for a straight from Ace - 5 sat firmly in her carefully manicured fingers.

"You know what I like about poker," Emma remarks with a smile that doesn't even attempt to reach her eyes. "When other people lose. I'll take that house of yours, and see it with a weekend with.. me."

It's with careless ease she pulls a ring from a finger and tosses it onto the pile of paperwork and chips. "I trust that's sufficient?"

Spider-Man has posed:
Nigel Frobisher nodded his head in the affirmative, "the Hamptons you say? Well, it is a bit of a trek, but never let it be said that I am unwilling to accept goods or services," and the slimey way he said that, looking Emma in the eyes as he said the word services, sent a cold chill down Peter Parker's spine. Just what were these people like? And why was Betsy even a member of this place? Little did he know it was a familial membership, passed down through the generations.

Plus, Peter did appreciate it seemed a great place to network, if that was the word. He was pretty sure he saw the mayor earlier, the owner of a tech company, and a few other people of note. He even saw his economics professor from one of the business classes he was required to take. Looking back towards the table, Nigel Frobisher seemed to be chip leader, necessitating others putting in property to call his hands. It was now down to Conrad Strathdee, Emma Frost, and Nigel Frobisher. And as near as Peter could tell, all three of them were from England. Betsy was from England. And he thought that this was the New York branch of the club. Go figure.

His eyes bugged out, not as big as when he wore his mask, but Peter's eyes bugged out when the, to him, English-sounding woman offered a weekend with her, and put a ring down as collateral. He nearly choked on his drink, probably drawing a few glances, from those somewhat easily distracted anyway.

But Nigel grinned like the Cheshire cat, nodding his head, "that's good enough for me Conrad, is that good enough for you?" He was still bluffing, trying to keep his composure. But there was a bead of sweat appearing on his brow. If Emma threw that in, she must have something. But as always, it would come down to the final card, and it was... the 7 of clubs. Nigel would have a straight, four through eight. But he didn't turn his cards over just yet.

Natasha Romanova (93) has posed:
Shaw's calm demeanor slips with Emma's bet. A single eyebrow arches upward and he frowns ever so slightly. When it is a game where she can use her telepathy, he would understand the push. She would know. But throwing in this particular type of game had taken her abilities out of the scenario.

He really didn't worry about what she did with her weekends. It was more losing control of the Academy. It would still belong to members of the Inner Circle but in the hands of the UK branch. That didn't sit well with the Black King.

Quentin Quire (1160) has posed:
Conrad grins, "Only a problem if you win, Nigel, and I don't intend to lose," he assures his countryman. Though the grin falters and his eyes widen slightly at Miss Frost's wager. "Ahem," he says taking a sip of the brandy by his side as he recovered his composure. It recovers quite well indeed as he shared that Cheshire cat smile with Nigel. "Works for me, Nigel, like I said, I don't intend to lose." That last is said in the direction of Emma.

Intended or not, when the final card is flipped, Conrad let's out a sigh. "Damn it all to hell," he says. There was no use pretending calm now. He flips his card, ace, two, three, four and six. The seven did him no good. "Well Miss Frost, let's hope you did better than I," he says before sullenly sipping his brandy.

Emma Frost has posed:
The trouble with games of chance, of course, is that pesky chance element.

Emma had known what she was doing when she agreed to sit the table. Oh, it was careless and all, but really, what was life for if you didn't live dangerously. And between herself and the doorpost, it was only just money.

Until the Academy was on the table. But she'd seen Nigel's cards, and the odds of him pulling a hand to beat hers was so infintessimally small as to be laughable.

Except Fate enjoyed a good laugh, and usually at the expense of the cocky. Emma was nothing if not cocky. She was also going to be out her beloved school and in for a harrowing weekend of invasion of her personal space if she didn't play this right, because against all odds, a 7 was turned. And that bead of sweat at Nigel's brow told a story Emma liked to see.

Casually, she ran a perfectly pointed fingernail over the top of her cards, folding them together and placing them face down upon the table. "I'm wondering, Nigel, if you're as confident about your hand as I am. Or if you'd prefer for us to shake hands and walks away with both our dignities intact. In fact, to make it slightly more palatable, I'll even give you your home in the Hamptons back."

Such a sweet smile upon those thin lips with their scarlet banner of smugness.

"It's a limited time offer. You have until I finish this last swallow of my drink to decide. Tick-tock, Bishop. Time's wasting."

And with that she reaches for her drink which has, indeed, only one swallow left.

Spider-Man has posed:
"Then, for your sake, and of course for Emma's, it might be best if I did not win. Still, that's out of our hands. It's all up for the cards to decide." Nigel offered his countryman, shortly before the outburst. "Pip pip, cheer up Conrad, there will be other weekends, and other homes in the Hamptons."

For his part, Peter couldn't seem to wrap his mind around this. Betting schools, homes, and what he can only imagine to be companionship, as well as a sizeable amount of money. He wasn't sure what each of the chips were worth. They weren't marked. At this level, if you had chips, you knew exactly how much they were worth. And Peter, well, he was a plus one. The only chips he ever saw were what he liked to call fries.

  The way Emma played with the top of her cards distracted Nigel so much that he thought he heard Emma offer to give him, Conrad's home in the Hamptons back, or maybe she meant to call this whole game null and void. He was a bit confused, and very distracted. What little he did know was that he now had a pretty good hand, and he had beaten Conrad.

So when he cleared his throat, he spoke with the confidence of a man who very much thought he had won. There were other hands. Emma could have two jacks in her hands, giving her four of a kind, she could have a higher straight, but that's about all that was possible as near as he could tell. He was distracted though. Her swallowing her drink didn't help matters.

"While, it is a tempting offer, I think not. I'll put my faith in with lady luck." And he tossed out his cards, showing his four through eight straight. "So, will you be joining me in the Hamptons, or do you get to keep your school?"

Natasha Romanova (93) has posed:
And with that, all eyes turned to Emma Frost. If she won, there was a lot on the table she would gain. If she lost, things were about to get very messy.

Shaw despised messy. He preferred things neat and tidy, lined up just the way that the Inner Circle needed them to be. He turned his gaze to the Queen from the opposite side of his court, waiting to see if she had pulled it off.

Quentin Quire (1160) has posed:
Even Conrad, fuming though he was over his poor fortune, turns to watch the final reveal of the cardss. "Indeed," he answers idly to Nigel, before adding, "To Frost with a nod," most kind.

Then it his eyes travel to the cards for the moment of truth.

Emma Frost has posed:
And with that flick of wrist and toss of cards, Nigel dashes all Emma's hopes of walking away from this without losing the Academy.

Oh, for a brief moment she'd thought she had him with her offer of walking away from the table without the grand reveal. Of course she'd underestimated the allure of what she'd thrown down. While Nigel probably didn't give a rat's ass about the Academy, she should have read the man better and realized the offer of herself was one he wouldn't shy away from, even if it meant him losing.

Only he hadn't lost, and she'd known it before making her offer.

That ribbon of smug scarlet turns a sour red as Emma tosses her cards into the middle of the pile. It's irrelevant whether or not they land face up, face down, or scatter - there is no move she can make short of twisting all their infantile little minds into believing she'd bested Nigel's hand... and while the thought did dwell there in her mind for a millisecond, ultimately the bad taste that would leave in everyone's mouth later (because her reputation did proceed her, and despite the temptation, she did wish to be invited back to the club) wouldn't be worth the effort or the consequences.

In short, Emma's lost.