5728/Astral Flux: Hasta Manana

Astral Flux: Hasta Manana
Date of Scene:	06 November 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Kent Nelson drops in on Emma Frost's vacation, and manages to hold her attention long enough to point out something was very wrong with her. Oddly, she doesn't send him packing.
Cast of Characters:	Emma Frost, Doctor Fate
Tinyplot:	Astral Flux

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Emma Frost has posed:
While in Rome.. Only, Emma wasn't in Rome.

She'd left word at Xavier's that she was taking a page out of Jean's book and removing herself from being a danger to the students, as well as taking Ororo's advice to heart. In short, Emma lied and said she was going on vacation.

Mexico, as it happens, was a lovely place at this time of year - temperatures optimal, and the weather aching to be co-operative.

After finding her way back to the Shadow King, Emma was rewarding herself with a small sojourn by the poolside, lying out on a lawnchair, with a tumbler of scotch on the rocks at her side, and a lit cigaratte dangling from two elegant fingers, the ashen tip of the thin tube threatening to drop off with the slightest provocation. All the while contemplating how to go about helping her King in his mission.

Doctor Fate has posed:
This was not what Kent Nelson had envisioned when he learned that people were in danger. Ever the cautious one, he came to the resort incognito, allowing his helmet and costume to slip into another dimension, just out of phase, but there should he need it.

He originally had been wearing a three piece suit, but under the heat, he changed that, after slipping behind a palm tree, into something more appropriate, a Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and sandals, and it would look fitting, but it was out of date.

Everything he wore was closer to what someone would have in the 1950's, rather than the 2020's. Following his senses to people affected, he found his way towards Emma Frost, and he sat down on the lounger next to hers. He looked puzzled, very puzzled, but said, "as conquer the world schemes go, this has to be one of the more original." Was he being serious, was he joking, it was hard to tell. But he said it straight.

Emma Frost has posed:
At first she mistakes him for a cabana boy come to refresh her drink.

"Not so much ice this time. I'm not a gringo tourist. You'll know when I can't handle my drinks."

She sounded bored. Too bored to even be snappish in her request, hand holding out the tumbler to the side, without her even turning her head the way of the noise Kent has made coming to sit beside her.

She's wearing a bikini, as one does when one is on vacation at a resort such as this, and a small coverup jacket, as well as sunglasses and a large brimmed hat keeping the sun off of her face.

Kent's commentary has her sighing in disappointment (her drink wouldn't be refreshes nearly so soon, given it's him and not a cabana boy). "Well, as plans to conquer the world go, I suspect I'll need more alcohol. Though I'm curious. Who are you, and should I be concerned your normal greeting is by way of mentioning world domination?"

Doctor Fate has posed:
Kent Nelson did not look like any cabana boy. He was Caucasian, and on the paler side, as he didn't get nearly enough natural sunlight. He also had blonde hair and blue eyes, none of which were usual traits for a cabana boy. He also sounded like he had a Transatlantic accent, neither American, nor British, but somewhere in between.

Still, he was in a generous mood, "I do not work here, but" and with one hand behind his back, the other on his knee, he cast a small spell, and a cabana boy, one who looked the part, arrived with her beverage. It had far less ice, and more alcohol in it, "I believe he does."

"I suppose that would depend on how you feel about Cabana Men."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma tilts her fingers negligently at the cabana boy so conveniently 'conjured' to her side. The gesture is dismissive, as she sips her drink and considers the man speaking to her.

"I suppose you think that impressive? I'm assuming you're responsible." She shrugs. "As for what I think of cabana men, don't you think that a rather personal question for someone you just met? You might not like the answer you get. It would be an utter shame to end such a scintilating conversation so abruptly."

He'c catch the dry notes of sarcasm to her voice. Show she enunciates scintilating in such a fashion as to turn it into commentary on the boredom she is claiming of the conversation.

"You were much more interesting when we were talking world domination."

Doctor Fate has posed:
Kent raised his hands, showing his palms. The man's skin looked good, no callous' to speak of, as if he either was blessed with unnaturally good skin, or he had never worked a day in his life. The truth was somewhere in the middle. "Very well, we could carve our faces, or fiendish symbol, into the side of a tropical volcano, where we'll build our secret lair from which to launch those plans. We'll need a shark pit, to lower British secret agents that routinely try to foil such plans." Even as he spoke, he was studying her, trying to see her essence, her soul if you will, to see what was going on, and if she could be saved.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma's soul, such as it is, is a turbulent thing. It's neither black, not white. Nor is it uniformly grey. Instead, it's an interesting mottling of the three. Places where black dominates; others where white is the colour, to match her outer trappings; and then there are the grey spaces between that travel in smears that lighten and darken, but are most distinctly grey.

All in all, the three seem to balance into a nuetrality, other than there is a pulsing dark chord to her, like an umbilicus, and it seems not only alive, but thirsting for more. One, such as himself, can almost see the hungry of the thing, ripping and tearing at the edges of its confines, seeking to colour more of her being with its darkness.

"And there you are, getting boring again. Why is it that every evil overlord thinks along those lines. Though I must admit, that shark infested layer for the secret agents almost had me smiling."

She smiles as she says that, the act not only deliberate, but a clear poking fun at the man.

"You realize, you failed to order your own drink."

Doctor Fate has posed:
"Oh, I don't drink. It dulls the senses." And his are razor sharp. Too bad his interpretation of that sensory data sometimes is found wanting, especially when it comes to socialising. The tendril like cloud, concerns him, and he begins to subtly use his own mental fortitude, not trying to penetrate her mind, but to study that dark force, so that he might understand it better. Unfortunately, she can probably know that he's taken an interest on that level. "Nor do I tan, as you can plainly see. This is," and he casts a glance around, "my first trip to Mexico. It's nice. Plenty to see, plenty to do."

Emma Frost has posed:
"Dahhhling," Emma drawls. "Sometimes dulling the senses is the point."

She seems to remember her cigarette, and with a final draw upon the thing, before stubbing it out, Emma adjusts her position so that she's sitting more fully upright in her seat. She might not be suggesting she and the man become fast friends, but it seems she's entertaining the idea of a conversation. At least for the moment.

That, or she's preparing to flee.

"You don't actually deal with real live humans on a regular basis, do you? The point of a drink, whether you sip it or not, is to be companionable. Now, see, if you had a drink, when I told you that it was time for you to leave, you could have used it as an easy excuse to overstay your welcome. Then again, I suppose you're not that sauve, are you?"

She looks him up and down. "Not one for the sun. You don't do menial labour. And you claim you don't travel. Or, at least haven't been to Mexico. But you do open conversations with quips about world domination. I'm curious. Just who are you, and why did you decide to act as my personal umbrella today."

A clear reference to the shadow he's now casting upon her as the sun's position moves to behind the man.

Doctor Fate has posed:
"No, not as it were," he concedes honestly. "I spend most of my time in study." But her points do seem valid, so he gestures to a passing cabana boy, and orders a drink, "I'd like a drink, one third orange juice, one third guava juice, and one third passion fruit juice." Yeah, he lives dangerously, so dangerously.

"In my youth," the man looks to be twenty-five, "I travelled frequently, just not to Mexico." Then, he offered his hand, "Kent Nelson," a curious name, there was a world renowned surgeon of that name, but he was considerably older, or so it seemed. The man had been around forever, but he had virtually no presence on the internet, no file photos, whomever he was, he was rather secretive. Perhaps this was his grandson.

Emma Frost has posed:
There's a light tinkle of laughter from Emma as he orders a drink. She knows there is no alcohol in it, and yet, she still teasingly asks, "Now, was that so hard?"

The back of her chair is fixed that she might sit more upright now, and she first adjusts the hat upon her head to still offer shade, but allow her a better look at Kent himself. Then she lights another cigaratte, offering, "Would you like one?"

When he introduces himself she smiles, the gesture both warm and cold at the same time. So very oddly so. "Kent Nelson," she repeats, fixing the man and the name together in her mind. "There's a surgeon with your name." She pauses, then introduces herself in return. "Emma. Emma Frost."

Doctor Fate has posed:
"You have no idea," he said matter of factly, trying to reciprocate her tone. "Oh, no, I don't smoke either, but thank you for offering." Then, with a twinkle in his eye, he says, "yes, I am. I guess I'm not very exciting, being a non-drinker, non-smoker, non-drug user. I'm just a simple surgeon, but a lifetime of abstinence has made me look younger than my years. So, there's that."

Emma Frost has posed:
There's a burst of laughter from Emma at his emulating her tones. "Oh, my. That was delightful, if a rather scathing commentary. You don't do a very good impression of me, however amusing that was."

She doesn't seem bothered by his not caring to share a cigarette with her. Her offer of one may have only been perfunctory politeness, though one does get the impression that Emma Frost doesn't do perfunctory. Or politeness. At least not outside the bounds of any situation where it might not get her anything.

With Emma, there was always a price tag involved to her interactions.

"so what you're saying is either you're the most exciting man on earth in bed, or you're a eunich." Her eyes twinkling just as easily as his, following it up with an inclination of head. "So. And we are the surgeon as well. Interesting. I wouldn't put you at the age I'd understood you were. You've aged well."

Exceedingly well.

Doctor Fate has posed:
"Well, I can safely assure you that I am not a eunuch," he said straight faced. "Thank you," he replied to the reference to his age. Alas, Emma Frost did not register as a name for him. He had never heard of Frost International. He might have seen it once or twice on some medical equipment, but it probably never registered. He wasn't exactly up on the times. "Perhaps you could teach me to do a better impersonation. Practice makes perfect after all." He was still concerned about that dark cloud hanging over her, and trying his best with his mental abilities to test it, while not being too obvious about it.

Emma Frost has posed:
It's not so much a cloud as a pillar? A tendril? A pulsing umbilicus, connectiong her to the lifeblood of antoher. Only, more metaphorically so. It's hard to tell much else, as her personal shields are employed. The umbilicus exists only because it is not merely psychic, but a stain upon her that goes beyond the mental, to the living core of her.

"I'm afraid I teach business, and not much else." Which is also an outright lie, as she has taught students how to manage their mutant powers, though most officially she's employed as a business teacher at Xavier's School for the Gifted. There is no official school for mutants; and were there, Emma Frost certainly wouldn't be involved!

"I'll take your word on the matter of being a eunich or not. It wasn't an invitation." Not that he'd offered to change her mind.

Doctor Fate has posed:
"Business," and he almost said something he'd regret, as he at least knew enough not to mention that it was unusual for women to be in business. Back in his day, women didn't even wear pants. The world had changed so much. And he wasn't a sexist, just, he was somewhat sheltered. Bathing suits also concealed far more than they do today. "Interesting, but you should not belittle your contributions. As for the invitation, none was offered. I just wanted to refute such a scurrilous allegation."

Emma Frost has posed:
"You don't smoke, drink, tan, or swear. There had to be something interesting about you. Though I don't think you scream that either."

Her tumbler of scotch is lifted to her lips and sipped from.

"So, other than being a surgeon, what is it you do Mr. Kent Nelson. And if what has brought you so suddenly to Mexico this day, muttering under your breath about world domination."

Doctor Fate has posed:
"Maybe you were right then..." he offered, meaning her earlier theory. The cabana boy brings him his drink, finally, and he takes a sip from the mixture of three juices, "mmm," he says audibly, "I read, I study, I meditate, I practice, and I dabble with the forces of darkness. There's a darkness about you, Emma Frost, one that I would like to remove."

Emma Frost has posed:
"Dabble in the forces of darkness, you say? If that isn't a quaint little parlor trick, I don't know what one is. And I can tell your fortune and read your mind." She gives the faintest roll of her eyes behind her sunglasses. "Honestly. I've met a warlock. You aren't the type."

His offer of 'removal' is ignored.

Doctor Fate has posed:
"How else am I supposed to plan for world domination?" He asked rhetorically, and stood up, his glass in hand, "and I've been out in this sun for far too long. If I haven't already, I imagine I shall start to burn soon. Is it expensive here? I might get a room." He said, thinking aloud, and without waiting for her to reply, he began to walk towards the main building and the welcome desk.

Emma Frost has posed:
"Expensive enough," Emma quips. "But if you ask nicely, you can put it on my tab. You're almost amusing enough to make it worth it."

She watches him go, and readjusts her seat to a greater incline. Terribly pleased with herself. And quite possibly intrigued.

At the very least, he hadn't bored her to tears. With Emma Frost, that was half the battle.