960/A Little Friendly Trespassing

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A Little Friendly Trespassing
Date of Scene: 15 June 2017
Location: Metropolis Academy
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Phoenix, Emma Frost




Phoenix has posed:
Unconscious since her self-immolation and induced rage episode in Hell's Kitchen, Phoenix's mind is an open book for a mind of Emma's caliber. The dry shores of her surface-mind lead smoothly to a churning moat cordoning off the deeper levels of her psyche-- but there's nothing fueling it beyond stray stresses that could be bypassed readily enough without getting bogged down in them, given a bit of care.

Beyond the moat, beneath a midnight sky lit only by the nail of a reddish-orange moon, the White Queen would find a dirt trail winding into a sprawling mass of trees native to Westchester County, tall and strong and faintly gray. The trail cuts back on itself, vanishes into brush, and is at times intersected by branches as thick as a Russian farmboy's arm. Eyes of many colors periodically appear and and vanish; foliage shivers, sending leaves dancing lazily to the ground. At once foreboding and beautiful, remote and teeming, Emma is likely capable of ascertaining that it is not just a forest - not just a patch of wilderness half-remembered - but Forest, the archetypal melange of the concept as Jean understands it.

It is not impassable, but it may well feel endless.

On the other side, the dirt trail begins to transition into a cobblestone path, which is eventually intersected with a creaky, fenceless gate. The sign on one of the posts reads '1122 Boogie Woogie Avenue'; the path past the gate twists up, down, sideways, and upside down on its way to a mist-shrouded mansion floating in the astral sky.

Assuming she makes it that far, she'll be greeted by a familiar voice:

"Hey there, stranger!" Jean chirps from just over Emma's shoulder. Clad in a dark green dress with a couple bands of a brighter hue wrapping around the skirt, a gold scarf, a green headband, gold stockings, and green flats, she's got her hands planted on cocked hips as she studies Emma with a bright, mischeivous smile. "If you're talking to me, that means you're probably not supposed to be here! Which means you've got five seconds to leave before I trap you here and let Conscious-Me figure out what to do with you. We good? Good!"

The path begins to undulate and crumble, while The Forest grows thorny and dense. Jean's unconscious mind is clearly not without /some/ defenses, but they're a shadow of what she could muster if she were awake, designed to frighten more than to ward off truly powerful and/or experienced psyches.

Emma Frost has posed:
It's taken her this long to get this far, and now curiosity has the better of the cat, or the Queen. She waves a manicured hand up and actually through the mental construct of Jean's mind guard and even begins the count herself.

"One."

The White Queen isn't about to be halted by some automoton, she approaches the mansion and moving up in the barrel roll that the path follows to the mansion.

Frost steps up to the double doors and reaches both hands out to open them softly, aiming to move deeper into the woman's mind.

Phoenix has posed:
Rippling, bucking, and groaning, the path is like a thing possessed with the primal need to send Emma tumbling into the distant corners of Jean's unconsciousness. At one point, the path even inverts itself beneath her, stone pinching and wrenching against stone like a petrified cloth.

But in the end, it is only a thing, and she is a Queen, with thoughts more than capable of outpacing rebellious geography. As she takes her last step to the mansion's doorstep - adorned with bat-knockers carrying circled 'X's in their claws - the path shudders one final time before shattering into the abyss behind her. This close, the mist is no obstacle to making out the familiar details of Xavier's School, run through the Spooky filter: shutters hang, webs span high spaces, dirt and grime cakes stained windows, and as Emma takes gargoyle-shaped handles in hand, thunder cracks the sky and sets the whole thing rattling.

crrrRREEEaaaAAAaaaak go the doors.

"Boy, you're a stubborn one, aren't you?" Jean grouses, again from somewhere behind Emma.

Inside, the Queen may recognize the layout from her recent visits to the mansion, if not the pervasive disrepair and musty aromas wafting through the halls. Also, the enormous portrait of Charles hanging prominently over the front staircase probably doesn't look as if it's staring into the soul of whomever's nearby. Also-also, it probably doesn't actually exist.

"So, what is this? Super-villain? Government spooks? Aliens? Ugh, please don't be Hydra, or some lame garbage like that. Am I gonna get a monologue? Fifty-fifty on Conscious-Me remembering it, but, hey, have at it, if you need to."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma ignored the aperation once more starting to walk deeper into the Xavier love fest that is Jean's mind. She doesn't give a response to the subconcious Jean with a turn as she steps in to look at the figure and holds up her hand with two fingers extended.

TWO

She stands in the foyer staring up at the painting and with her hands on her hips. The White Queen then realizes she's wearing her 'costume' the corset she used to wear when she was in the Hellfire Club, but it's got a sexy long cape that hangs off her low shoulders and around her biceps. The woman is trying to figure out what direction she should be headed.

Down stairs, somethings pulling her to find out what Jean keeps in her basement. So that's the direction she goes.

Phoenix has posed:
"This isn't a great call for you, you know," Emma's red-haired companion quietly notes. "You're pretty much gonna have to kill Conscious-Me, if you make the wrong move from here. And if you do..."

Vases full of brackish water, ancient sofas, darkened doorways, cracked floorboards, and peeling wallpaper surround Emma as she explores in search of a way down deeper into Jean's subconscious mind, a never-ending tapestry of poorly lit decay.

"Like, if you hurt her," a winged, reedy-voiced young man in a long, green t-shirt adds while swooping up a flight of stairs ahead to stand in Emma's path, "like, that's where we come in!"

"That's right," says another man combat-rolling out of a doorway to-- well, look at her with a black and red visor that matches his ascot.

"Indubitably!" adds a furry blue man wearing glasses and an orange kilt while swinging in from a chandelier.

"Rrrrat's right!" tacks on the ice-dog skating out of another doorway.

Advancing on Emma with powers and grappling hands at the ready, they're the last of Jean's unconscious defenses-- and Emma can probably tell. Once they're dealt with, she should have no problem with finding her way down to the basement of the crumbling manor.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost pauses as the five unusual characters slide out of no where and all start to charge Emma. This is where she shines. In the mind, she's not only as strong as she desires, she's as creative as she needs to be, but this is something that needs to be delt with quickly as Emma was warned about something in five seconds and she's curious but not enough to linger.

"Three."

The White Queen reaches into the mind of Jean and simply unplugs the malicious defenses in an attempt to render them nothing.

Phoenix has posed:
The X-Gang freezes in violent tableau, inches from the White Queen.

"So give-- " Jean gets out before she, too, freezes-- and then shatters into nothingness, along with the rest of the X-Gang.

Down a flight of stairs bordered on either side with memories of Marvel Girl and the other X-Men fighting and hurting and growing together, decayed opulence is sharply replaced with metal surfaces, harsh yellow light, and a gentle, but persisting warmth. Scenes of violence and salvation continue to dance across walls: a beautiful young man pinned by his angelic wings to a sewer tunnel; being pulled from the depths of living foliage by barely tested teammates; a self-destruct sequence ticking down to zero before the world is consumed with fire...

There's a subtle, downward slope to the corridors that doesn't end until they do, at a great, circular door with an 'X' sculpted out of it. Before that terminal point, the corridors are lined with doorays leading to a series of rooms decorated with the aesthetics of her teammates: pink butterflies here, blue and yellow stripes there, and so forth, each littered with memories and carefully held secrets.

Shortly after Emma's arrival, the subtle warmth begins - slowly - to intensify.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma pauses as she feels the warmth start to radiate from nowhere but slowly fill the hall. Looking over her shoulder for a source of the heat she says a single word to herself.

"Four..."

But she finally does say something, as she feels there's someone worth talking to, "Who's there?"

Phoenix has posed:
Looking over her shoulder Emma finds...

... a hallway full of memories. No fire, save for those in Jean's memories; no light beyond the softly glowing tubes tucked into alcoves lining the ceilings. The memory of the self destruct countdown seems to repeat itself far more frequently than any of the others, and it's the only one readily identifiable as featuring Jean alone rather than merely including her among teammates or family.

No spunky defensive instinct.

Just Emma.

And Jean, playing across the walls.

And heat that seems to gain mass as it builds and presses in against the White Queen's astral avatar. The heat of the noontime sun beating down on a desert wanderer, of old growth burning to make way for new saplings. The heat of a star boiling at just the right angle to draw life from cold soil.

Heat without source, and perhaps without end-- heat that simply, utterly is.

Heat that seeks to speak without voice, to etch outrage into Emma's very self rather than be bothered with the illusion of sound:

"ONE. WHO. BELONGS."

The countdown and the consuming fire that follows flicker across every wall, ceiling, and floor, now on endless loop. The numbers, the billowing fire-- it all moves in time with the stranger's - if that is, indeed, what it is - reply.

"CAN. YOU. SAY. THE. SAME?"

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma probes Jean's physical mind as she's exploring the woman's subconscious and quickly finds out this entity is not something of Jean's creation, it's not something of Charle's creation either. This causes Emma to stop walking for the first time since she got here and near what she assumes is the holy grail of Jean's psyche.

Turning around to attempt to face this entity. Emma speaks,

"Five."

Then she waits a brief moment, before speaking again, "I belong here as much as you do." Trying now to access this alien entities mind.

Phoenix has posed:
Five.

The surfaces surrounding Emma freeze, crystallizing fire and desperation and death.

...

.....

.......

Who - what - ever speaks to Emma does so without a face, and trying to pinpoint the root of its-- no-- not 'its', her psyche leads Emma through doors which-- ultimately-- lead-- back-- here.

And all the while, the heat accompanies the Queen like a faithful companion.

"DO-- YOU?" wonders the entity after a second-- or ten-- or a hundred-- or--

--

-- well, it's been some time. This interval is, perhaps, less important than what the two words following it accomplish: without a voice, the stranger still somehow stokes the pervasive heat with each word, until--

*FFFFFWWWWWOOOOOOOM!*

-- the very memories around the White Queen explode, pyrrhic flames leaping through metal as if it were air, hungry to consume Ms. Frost.

It is not instantaneous-- but unlike the rebellious bridge and the X-Gang, it is not the unconscious, instinctual will of a young telepath that fuels the blaze, but a fury older than the stars themselves-- familiar, perhaps, from the moments following Jean's collapse in New York, but unfiltered by distance and Sinister's support.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma's eyes widen as the area turns to a stand still and is addressed by this scorching being -- emotion. This is a power beyond anything she's ever seen or even imagined.

There's only one thing coming to the White Queen's mind when she is swarmed by the explosions of memories, or the ideas of memories around crash in upon her. She lifts her hands and recoils into a crouch, trying to protect herself, but she doesn't allow herself to be pushed around and out so easily.

This thing has as much right to be here as she does, and Emma slowly tries to look around to find the mental form this being takes and she screams out her question of the weird alien sound of mental explosions. "What are you?!"

Phoenix has posed:
"FIRE," she begins as the corridors and the mansion above are vaporized, leaving Emma amidst a burned out husk on an island adrift in a sea of flames.

"AND," she continues as the blaze surrounding - and threatening to encroach upon - Emma draws upwards on one edge of the island.

"LIFE," she concludes as burning wings unfurl. The word bursts from a beak that splits from an appropriately placed patch of flame. The eyes that form afterwards stare down into Emma's very Self.

"I. AM. PHOENIX-- AND WHAT, LITTLE INTERLOPER-- ARE YOU?"

Emma Frost has posed:
At the insult, Emma finds her strength and stands up to stare into the fire bird's scorching eyes. Her fists are balled and her mind is ice cold in this moment.

You ask me who I am. I am the ice master."

"I, am The White Queen."

"I am Emma Frost."

With the gesture she stands, to be a strength similar to Jean but in a different way. She's not a telekinetic, but she is a telepath on par or even stronger than the Professor. She might have learned about how Charles tried to put the bird in a cage, but sees how futile that might have really been.

This is a being Emma could revere, respect and even comprehend, but this might cost Emma.

Phoenix has posed:
Had Charles ventured into his pupil's mind to this extent, it is indeed likely that he would have tried to cage the flaming entity-- but there's no sign of his ever having encountered her.

Of course, that may just be due for a change, given present circumstances...

If he had encountered the Phoenix, it's readily apparent to Emma that the confrontation would have been neither gentle, nor simple. Whether because she is linked inextricably with Jean Grey's own potent mind or because she's an innately vast source of power, the Phoenix entity's psionic talents are easily a match for Emma's own-- and she is fully aware that she's in her domain. Wings spread wide and free, they and the rest of her scintillating form are the astral space upon which Emma and her island are currently moored, cradling and clutching.

"NO. OH, NO. I KNOW WHO YOU ARE," she replies, a hint of arrogance rippling through everything. "GIRL WHO WOULD BE QUEEN. CHILD OUTRACING HER FATHER'S SHADOW. PERFECTION SCULPTED OF BROKEN DREAMS. I KNEW YOU FROM THE MOMENT YOU SET FOOT HERE, EMMA FROST, QUEEN OF THIEVES."

Cradling, clutching-- crushing; blazing talons alight upon either side of Emma's island, casting fissures and shockwaves through it; the only thing preventing it from shattering and leaving her adrift is the ice that intermittently spreads from within those cracks hold everything together. For now. What's left of the mansion crumbles, tumbles off into the burning abyss, and vanishes.

"WHAT-- MANNER OF BEING-- ARE YOU-- TO PRESUME TO HELP YOURSELF-- TO WHAT IS MINE?!

Boring into the depths of the White Queen, the entity's gaze sweeps across her life in judgment. Implacable radiance swings through Emma's lowest moments - through sins, struggles, and failures - like an interrogation lamp gone nuclear, seeking to melt the Queen's avatar.

"TO INTRUDE-- UPON THE DEEPEST REACHES OF MY VESSEL-- TO DIG FOR SECRETS THAT ARE NOT YOURS TO HAVE?"

Emma Frost has posed:
The ice shifts from the cool, to harden into something even more crystal-like as Emma's true power isn't ice, but diamond. The cool shifts to something that itself ignores all but the most intense flames.

"I am the one to say your choices have consequences, Phoenix." Emma says, giving the thing the most obvious name.

Her island, a small speck of land, keeps itself solid mostly from the lashing solar flairs from the powerful source of life and relife.

"I am not afraid of you knowing who I am, because I know who I am. I know where I am going. You could help me or get in my way, but I am not some mere trifling mortal. Bird."

While in the real world, her body heat itself is rising, she's focused entirely on Jean's mind, and for some reason is almost protecting it from this being.

"I am strong in my resolve and will and my greed is unrivaled." Emma declares, almost sounding like she's offering a hand in treaty and understanding.

Phoenix has posed:
"MY CHOICES?"

Flooring, furniture, and a cooling body ooze from the fissures. In mere moments, the burned out island is the scene of a Frost child's death, plucked directly from its perpetrator's memory-- murder implement and all. The living inferno and her judging stare are gone, leaving the Queen alone with her crime.

And the heat, now radiating squarely from the murder implement.

"Reeking of greed and treachery," the corpse hisses in a rattling mockery of her living voice, "stained with the blood of your kin, you come to where you were not invited-- and you dare pass judgment upon your host?" She begins to rise in a slow, jerking motion, stiffening limbs lurching. Glassy, empty eyes lock firmly onto Emma's.

"THERE WOULD BE NO SECRETS FOR YOU TO PLUNDER, WERE IT NOT FOR MY CHOICES!" she then bellows, which in turn sets the corners of this new space to burning. "You would steal your way into my home, to offer me deals and issue demands...?" she continues as the newly manifested flames close in on Emma. The entity's outrage echoes from within them in sync with the dead woman's voice. "You presume TOO FAR, QUEEN OF TREACHERY-- your negotiations are as ASHES here! Be GONE!"

Emma Frost has posed:
"This is not your mind. This is not your body or home. You have as much right as I d-" Emma recoils finally as her body can't stand it any further and she is snapped out of Jean's mind with a forceful retreat as her fight or flight response couldn't withstand another moment of the onslaught from the Phoenix.

She's back in her own mind and her hands are shaking, unable to touch her own skin without the sensation of burning intensifies. She even smokes slightly from her skin.

Emma's made her retreat, stood her ground and lost, likely for the first time since she was living with her parents as a young teen.

Phoenix has posed:
Jean, meanwhile, is floating several feet above of wherever Emma had her laid out before she went digging, and so is anything near her that had the misfortune of being a few pounds or less while not being secured to something else. Her hair and sash ripple freely beneath her, just shy of grazing whatever's below. Smoke curls around the redhead and her field of orbiting objects; her face is bright red and shimmering with sweat.

Absolutely all of this abruptly ends about five seconds after Emma returns to her own mind with a series of crashes and clatterings. The cacophony is closely followed by low groans as Jean's eyes snap open and she bolts upright-- then nearly collapses to her back, before catching herself on an elbow and just hanging there for the moment, panting.

"Wh-- where-- why-- " she stammers, eyes darting around her surroundings before fixating on Emma and widening at the sight of smoke. "Emma, what-- ?!"

A second attempt at sitting up threatens to go awry, but she manages to remain at a wobbly ninety degrees while holding her fingers to her brow with a grimace.

"Where's-- where's your extinguisher, first aid-- whatever?!" she presses, trying to keep an eye on the blonde.

Emma Frost has posed:
Being in the medical room already, Emma lifts a shaky hand as she points over to the counter to Jean's right, which happens to have a box of simple first aid supplies, but not exactly enough to help Emma at the moment, the damage is pretty much done, so she's just sitting trying and hoping she doesn't burst into flames.

"Six." She says to no one and then her ice blue eyes glance over to Jean's green eyes and smiles faintly, "Jean..." Glad her associate/friend is alive and not burning from the inside out.

Phoenix has posed:
After rolling her eyes towards the gesture, Jean does not so much step as she does roll that way to leave her bed.

At least years of Danger Room practice have made her pretty good at not falling flat on her face when tumbling with rubbery limbs and a perpetually spinning world.

"Seven," she exhales, grimacing again as she pushes up to her feet; as soon as she's upright, her palms smack the counter and nearly clear it as she fights to keep that position. Following another slow, shaky breath, she drags the box to herself and-- quickly realizes that there is, in fact, nothing that seems suited to treating spontaneous human combustion. "What are we counting, Emma?" she wonders, tossing supplies aside as she briskly rummages regardless. "What are we counting, and are you currently burning, and why are you smoking, Emma, we're in a medical room and there aren't any mysterious kidnappers hovering around because this is not the kind of medical room where those kinds of assholes drag people like us, so what the fuck is happening??"

By the end of that machine-gun outburst, she's gripping an empty kit in trembling hands and turning to stare at the headmistress with a wide-eyed mixture of fear and utter bemusement.

Emma Frost has posed:
"The countdown for the end of the world." Emma says, her voice strained and likely even it too is burnt a little, her voice doesn't sound quite right, much more ragged and tired. She continues to steam and smoke, wanting to stand up and rip this suit off but she doesn't, not in front of Jean and because standing or moving in any way seems to make things worse as indicated by her arms and hands.

"D-don't worry, you're at my school. We're in the medical - COUGH - facilities..." She says, her eyes unable to focus clearly at the moment.

Phoenix has posed:
"Then why are you smoking and why do I feel like an eighteen wheeler just ran over my skull?!" Jean spits back while dropping her eyes back to the box.

In lieu of an extinguisher or useful-looking ointments, she nudges the one tool left to her across the counter as quickly as she can manage while still relying heavily on it for support. The med kit box tumbles into a sink, a palm thrust gets the faucet going, and some further tossing of the box situates it for filling.

None of this is quick. Emma would have plenty of warning, assuming that she isn't too distracted to put two and two together as her fellow mutant stares into the sink and drums out a rapid, unsteady rhythm.

Whether or not the blonde is actually willing - or able - to move before Jean stumbles close enough to dump the full box of water over her head is another matter, though.

"You have got to have an extinguisher!" she shouts all the while. "Am I gonna have to tear this place apart??"

Emma Frost has posed:
The White Queen yelps with surprise, jubilation and a bit of sadness as the ruination of her suit, though, that was already a given based on the burns across her body.

"There's an extinguisher in the cabinet beneath you." Emma says quietly, as she savors the sensation of the water cooling her off and yet steaming like in a hot shower, evaporating quickly over her overheated body.

The blonde then moves on, glazing over that bit of conversation as she slowly lowers her arms, "I was inside your head when you were unconscious, seeing if I could help revive you faster." That was her original intention but she never made that clear in the mindscape, but quickly she continues with her own question. "What is that thing inside of you?"

Phoenix has posed:
Breathing out a barely audible, "Oh my God," at the notion of having to - in the immediate future - go upright again, Jean trundles over to the indicated cabinet and commences just sort of lazily tipping stuff out of it until she spots the extinguisher.

*FWWWWWSSSSSSSSS!*

"You-- what?" she lowly asks after covering Emma with a layer of foam, eyes narrowing and voice dipping into a nakedly wary register. "Emma, I bare-- "

The follow-up question steals her breath, whatever was to come next from her lips, and a fair bit of the color from her face. Green eyes practically vibrate with the urge to flee the White Queen's gaze as fear and uncertainty flicker within, and the extinguisher - now clenched in a vice grip - slowly lowers.

"I-- " she begins once the air returns to her lungs, only to fall into a small shudder.

"-- don't know. Not exactly-- but I know that I owe her. I owe her everything."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma coughs the white foam away from her lips and with a painful whip of her fingers, sending more of the suppressant down to the floor, the blonde lifts her hands to brush the stuff from her eyes and face, shaking her head once to get what she can out of her hair with a painful groan from the movements. The fires of her body seem to be quenched but the pain and burns remain.

She's incredibly hard to read now that she's covered in the chemicals and sighs once.

"I know you do - wait, she? You commune with it - her?"

Emma remains mostly still in her chair, worried of the immense pain she'll feel when she finally has to move.

Phoenix has posed:
"No."

Jean stares down at her fellow telepath for a beat, and since she isn't covered in flame suppressant, it's apparent enough from looking at her that she's somewhere between bemused, wary, and afraid. This may be why she turns away to grab paper towels once that moment has passed, and positions herself behind Emma to hand some over before using the rest to mop foam from her face.

"But she's a she," Jean softly continues, meanwhile. "I dunno what else she is, what she wants - least of all from me - but I do know that. And I know that she's-- she changed me, my powers-- they aren't what they-- "

The redhead pauses, towel-clutching hand held to Emma's brow.

"-- what do you mean, 'you know I do,' Emma?" she slowly, quietly asks, squinting down at the blonde. "You said you wanted to revive me, but-- just how deep did you go?"

Emma Frost has posed:
"She's greater than she'll ever reveal to either of us, but what I understand she aims to not only claim you, but use you for her own whims and desires." Emma says, as she carefully uses the towel to wipe the crud off her chest, good think she wore the tank top when throwing on clothes quickly after getting back. Her teeth clench and teeth at every touch of her skin. Which is less than most would do, she's fighting against the pain.

The blonde admits. "Deep. I went in looking for your conscious self, your psyche, and I saw your death...." Emma says, turning her head to face Jean and after a moment she whispers. "Your secret is safe with me Jean."

Phoenix has posed:
A couple silent seconds of studying Emma and frowning pass before Jean murmurs, "We have an understanding," and lets a few foamy paper towels hit the ground. Shifting to trying to comb foam from blonde locks, she continues, "What it is, and how we came to it, I don't know-- I don't know anything, I-- "

Emma may be able to feel the shiver that follows her pause.

"What you saw, happened," she whispers. Combing resumes, if allowed. "And six months later, I was crashing, setting fire to the mansion's gardens-- but I was alive. And in no hurry to question it."

Following a slow, deep breath, she finally lets her eyes drift from Emma as she adds, "Thank you. You-- you went much farther than you had any right to-- but thank you for that much."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma takes a gamble and reaches up to grab at Jean's wrist, her blistered palm screaming in agony at every touch, but she refuses to let that pain show on her face. "Jean." She says softly, still sounding like she's fighting a cough.

"I did what I did trying to help you, I wont take that back, and understand if you hate me, but I'm on your side."

"I'll risk everything and more for you Jean. You're my friend. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I don't have many."

Phoenix has posed:
Jean tenses when grabbed and has to resist the urge to break away, because while Emma may be doing an excellent job of hiding any apparent pain, the blisters are right there, visible-- tactile.

"Emma..." she replies, trying not to let any alarm leak into her voice as she squints down at the headmistress. Green eyes bounce across staunchily set features, searching simultaneously for signs agony and delirium. "That's-- you barely know me," she murmurs, completing her point from earlier. "I-- not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, but I don't-- I mean, that's-- that's a lotta neck to put out there for someone you just met, y'know? But if you just need a friend..."

Now she gingerly twists her wrist in the other telepath's grasp in an effort to free herself-- only to fold the blistered hand between both of hers and resist the urge to squeeze, once she does.

Emma Frost has posed:
"Like my father told me," (He didn't, that guy was an asshole) "You have to give trust and faith to get it." She says, letting Jean hold her hand in such a gesture that she feels safe with the original owner of the red head's body, but now she's going to have to focus on the other, much more volcanic tenant.

"You're a telepath, kinda like me, but you can do so much more, but I'm just saying, we need to stick together, watch each other's backs." She pauses.

"Right?"

Phoenix has posed:
"Sure," Jean replies with a slow, firm nod and a moment of gentle pressure against the back of Emma's hand. "Of course-- the world's got too much ugliness in it for people like us not to look out for each other." She then lets go, steps back, and begins rolling down a glove dripping with suppressant, frowning slightly the whole time. "Your father sounds like a pretty smart man-- and your students and staff seem devoted to you, so I guess you must've paid attention to him."

Emma Frost has posed:
"I ... he was smart yes." Emma exposes herself a little bit and then moves her other hand to brush Jean's hair softly.

"You're welcome here any time, but you should be getting back right? You seem okay." The telepath says and adds, "I'll get you a car to bring back whenever you get the chance." Still though, she doesn't seem to want to stand.

Phoenix has posed:
The contact sets Jean's brow curiously, briefly a-wrinkle, but she allows it-- at least, until getting back is mentioned, at which point she backs away with another, grimacing nod.

"Yeah, all anyone knows is that I came to talk to you-- I dunno how much time's passed, but it's probably been long enough for people to start asking questions. I'll live, I just..." A heavy breath as her sodden glove is slung over a shoulder and bare fingers comb back through her hair. "I need to rest," she concludes, offering a fleeting and wan smile. "What about you, though-- you're burned, it's-- well, I dunno exactly how bad it is, but you got burned-- what happened? Are you gonna be alright? You're gonna call someone, right?"

Emma Frost has posed:
"I have a healer on sight." Emma says gently as she finally steps up and holds out a hand in asking Jean for help up though she will get there herself and slowly reaches to the hem of her tank top to pull it up and frown at herself. "God it stings so back Jean." Emma says with a frown, trying to hunch over to look at her belly.

Phoenix has posed:
Help is promptly given, with Jean lingering nearby for a second or two in case Emma needs further support once she's on her feet-- not that she's especially sturdy herself right now, but there are markedly fewer mysterious burns on her person, so she has that going for her.

"How-- " Her gaze flicks down in time with Emma's.

"-- aah, Jesus," she whispers, wincing as eye contact is reestablished. "Okay, yeah, I'll-- I'm gonna get back, and you oughtta call your healer, and-- well, I guess that's kinda it." If there aren't any burns on Emma's biceps, she'll squeeze one while adding, "Get better soon, so we can talk about intramural activities, or something," with a smile smile before stepping back to leave.