5319/Astral Flux: Wine, Woman, and No Song.

Astral Flux: Wine, Woman, and No Song.
Date of Scene:	07 September 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Emma and John play poker to see who wins their bet; John loses. He'll have to dance at the club. Pity that.
Cast of Characters:	Constantine, Emma Frost
Tinyplot:	Astral Flux

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Constantine has posed:
John was stumped. Best he could tell he was waking in the night like a sleepwalker, and doing something, with sigils. He didn't know what exactly, when he woke most of them were a smudged mess, but what sigils he could make out proved it was more than some random drawing but actual magic being worked. What magic though was a mystery, and one none of his memory charms and other tricks seemed able to reveal. What he needed was a telepath and as fortune had it, he knew where to find one.

John managed to talk a busboy into letting him in the rear entrance of the Hellfire club and once inside, made his way directly to the bar. There was no guarantee he'd find Emma Frost here, but it made for a good place to start.

Emma Frost has posed:
As it happened, Emma Frost was quite easily found at the Hellfire Club. She'd been making it something or a regular haunt these past days. Hellfire, and a few other establishments. In fact, if the society papers were anything to go by, Emma Frost had been out and about quite a lot lately.

But tonight she's alone, sitting at a table with a bottle of top shelf scotch in front of her, smoking a cigarette, and watching the scenery of the place ebb and flow before her.

She's, as mostly usual, dressed in white or depending on your pretentiousness, eggshell, the only spot of colour to her outfit being a jewelled firefly pinned to her lapel.

When John enters, it's almost as if she were waiting for him. At least little to no time passes before she lifts her glass in greeting, and waves over a waiter, nodding in John's direction. Shortly thereafter, John is invited to come sit with her, via that very waiter.

She waits until he sits to incline her head in greeting. "John. Fancy meeting you here. Flush again, or did you pick the locks to the back entrance." Not that she seems particularly worried by that lock picking business.

Constantine has posed:
It's not surprising that John had missed the news of Emma's nightly exploits, the society page was something he skipped over on the way to the sports. Not that he had much care for the sports on this side of the pond but it was a sight better than who was where wearing what dress.

Though when summoned over, finding Emma alone with the scotch isn't all that strange even if the cigarette is.

He makes his way over and slides into the seat across from her. "Bribed a busboy, didn't even need my picks," because of course John would actually have some. "An' didn't know you smoked, otherwise I'd have offered ages ago."

He reaches inside his rumpled jacket and produces a pack of Silk Cuts, knocking one out of the package as he talks. "Been keeping busy since we last crossed paths?" he asks conversationally. Small talk, before he got around to the favour asking.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma gives something of a shrug, and a shrewd little smile. "You didn't ask," she says of his not knowing she smoked. "Though it is something of a more recent affectation. I was bored with the usual. You'd hardly know it, but there are things about me you wouldn't guess."

She laughs softly at him, amused. "Such a simple thing to raise your brow. Had I known, I might have done so sooner. I admit, it's something refreshing to see you taken aback."

She takes a long haul on her cigarette - by chance the very ones he himself is smoking - in a manner that suggests she's not merely *recently* picked up the habit. There's an ease to the gesture as she inhales. Holds the firey smoke within her lungs. Then ever so slowly exhales, letting a thin streamer rise above her head, finishing with a little round O of smoke that drifts away.

"You could say I've kept busy. The current semester is underway. I swear teenagers and their hormones will be the death of me. And you?"

Constantine has posed:
John takes his own smoke between his lips and lifts a finger to the tip, a flare of fire and it's smouldering. "New affectation, eh?' he asks as he watches her expertly burn down her own Silk Cut and blow a little smoke ring to boot. "Must be good at new things," he says with a wry chuckle. Not quiet an accusation of lying, but certainly an acknowledgement of his skepticism.

The other remark is replied to, cheekily, "Well if I'd known that, I'd let you surprise me sooner."

There is a nod for the business of the school. "Forgot you were a teacher, an' I can imagine, bunch of horny little buggers at that age aren't they?" he says, the question rhetorical. "An' been busy enough, lots of weird going around, good for business, but not when it's coming too close to home. Been having a bit of a problem."

Emma Frost has posed:
"I'll note you used the word horny, not I. I'd have said randy, but either way, they're a little much. Invincible. Invulnerable. And they think the entire world is theirs for the taking. It's almost enough to make you want to puke."

Emma shrugs, and takes another draw on her cigarette, a cigarette that hasn't lost its ash yet, John might note - a long line of the stuff tapering off the burner, hovering and threatening to fall, but hanging on all the same.

"Teaching is just a means to an end. And, since we already discussed that little secret, it seems there's good I can do in the world by offering my services there. Still, I wonder how anyone would make that as a life choice."

Her other hand reaches for her drink, offering in an offhand manner, "Grab yourself a glass, why don't you. Join me. The night is terribly young."

Constantine has posed:
"Noted," John says with a grin playing across his lips. He chuckles at her assessment of her students. "Can you say you were any different at their age?" he asks. "Lord knows I wasn't," he says with a smirk. "Not that I was in school by that point."

Noting the state of her cigarette he picks up his pack of smokes and knocks another free, holding it up for her in a wordless offer.

"So, only a temporary measure then? Weather the hormones until the world is saved, something like that?" he asks as he considers the offer of a drink. "It is at that," John agrees, figuring his problem could wait a drink or two. He flags the waiter who fetched him back over to bring him a glass. "What shall we drink to?"

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma considers. "I'd barely come into my powers at their age. My family thought I was an abomination. I took up with the first man I thought I was in love with and.. well, the rest is a messy story. Hardly worth the retelling. I did find, though, that to succeed in business, and become the woman I am, that I had to leave that childishness behind rather abruptly. I suppose you have tales to tell?"

Emma arches a brow delicately, and sips from her glass of scotch.

"The teaching? Oh, yes. Rather temporary. I needed something I couldn't provide any other way. I'm a woman of simple means, John. And rather practical to boot."

She waits until he gets himself a glass and has poured before suggesting, "I think.. surprises."

Constantine has posed:
"Guess we've got shitty parents in common then, well, parent in my case. Killed me mum when I was born, Dad never let me forget it, plus, mum was a witch, an' guess who got her powers?" He shrugs at it as if it were nothing. "An' yeah, left home early, bounced around, found people who could teach me things, didn't much care who, an' oh, you'll like this part, wound up starting up my own punk band for a bit," he gives his head a shake. "An' yeah, it's got it's share of mess to it too. You already know about the girl in hell," he says.

His offered cigarette is set down near Emma as John asks, "Sounds like a rough time with that bloke, love, eh? Bloody pain in the ass," he says with a knowing nod.

When the glass comes he, nods of the teaching. "An' what was that?" he asks of what she needed. A glance is given to the waiter, an acknowledgement that an answer might be best left until after he's gone.

Regardless, when he has his drink, "Surprises, eh?" he asks, smiling. "What sort of surprises are we talking about?" he asks though it doesn't stop him from lifting his glass.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma takes the proferred cigarette. stubbing the remains of her spent one out in the provided ashtray. "A light?" She asks as though she hasn't one of her own. "And, yes. Surprises."

Once her cigarette is lit she takes a slow drag, and exhales equally slowly, gesturing towards the stage. "I used to dance there. That's how I got my start here at the club. Before I became the White Queen. Not many people know that."

She gives John a wicked little smile, "I haven't forgotten anything I learned while doing it, either."

Constantine has posed:
At the request for a light, John extends his index finger and puts it to the end of the cigarette. A moment of focus a tiny spark of power and its alight. "I'm a flashy git, I know," he says drawing his finger back across the table and picking up his drink.

The revelation that she used to dance here gives Emma her second chance to see John taken aback tonight, brows raising as he looks to Emma and the stage. His gaze returns to Emma. "Guessin' it wasn't a ballet recital," he says slyly smiling a bit, recovered from the surprise. Or at least until the third time she shocks him tonight.

The wicked smile the obvious innuendo, all of it has John's brows rising, and he takes a drink to buy a few seconds of time to process, though he does find the wit to remark, "Well, now I really hope it wasn't ballet."

Emma Frost has posed:
"It most certianly was not ballet," Emma says with a smile. A knowing smile. "If you were expecting shame, you would be disappointed. And, again, a means to an end. Most things are."

She relaxes back in her seat, and considers him, raather quite closely as it happens. "Are you a gambling man, John?"

Constantine has posed:
John takes a sip of the scotch letting it burn it's way deliciously down his throat. He mmms, at the flavour eyes closing a little as he enjoys the liquor's sweet kiss, then opens them again to come face to face with that knowing smile.

John's lips form a smile of his own, easy going, accepting. "Trust me luv, I may not know you well, but I know you well enough to know, shame is for other people where you're concerned. You did what you had to do."

Lord knows he'd done worse, so much worse to get to his own position.

John mirror's Emma's posture as he sits back in his own chair. "From time to time, depending on the wager."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma gives a small moue of amusement, and tilts her head somewhat to John. "So true. I see no reason for shame in anything I did. As for the wager? Mmm, I'm a daring woman. Name your price."

Constantine has posed:
John finds his interest in the bet mixed with caution. Was this a test? Given how they had left things after their 'date' at the Georgian Creeds, John wasn't sure, but at the same time the flirtatious way the bet was presented made it a damned hard trap to resist.

"Going to start thinking you've mind whammied me into one of those scenarios you mentioned," He remarks briefly before he decides to throw caution to the wind.

"I win you dance for me," it was the obvious choice given their previous topic of conversation. "You can pick the venue."