Owner	Pose
Kitty Pryde	It's late night at Xavier Mansion. Who knows what mischief those mutant miscreants might be up to! The depressing answer is: not a lot. Late enough that it's reached that liminal point between night and day where you're not really sure if someone is operating on vampire hours or a worryingly early riser, the students are by and large asleep, and the teachers who live 'on-campus' are either the same, out somewhere else possibly just relaxing or getting into a life-or-death adventure, or. Just. Holed up in their office, overworking. Too many of those types. The point is: the mansion's living areas are surprisingly empty and quiet at this time of night, and that's especially true of the spacious, luxurious kitchen area. "Hmm hmm hm hmm~." Mmmmost of the time. The sound of humming comes directly from around said spacious, luxurious kitchen area. It's empty enough right now that the voice in question reverberates a bit as it sounds out a cheerful, nondescript little melody and carries a bit further than it might normally. Energetic in that way people often are when they think they're alone, that upbeat voice can belong to only one person: Katherine "Kitty" Pryde, lone occupant of the Xavier Mansion Kitchen, currently bent over and half-stuffed into the refrigerator as she rifles through it, only her oversized, baby blue t-shirt and yellow boyshorts-equipped lower body and the glimpse of wild, curly hair visible as she searches. Her hips swaying to her own imaginary melody, she plucks up something: some cheese, some turkey, a bundle of bread, before she emerges with a triumphant grin, pauses, and blinks. "Oh! Mayo!" And just what is she doing? The answer should be clear as she leans in again, singing as she guns for the mayonnaise: "o/` Workin' on my NIGHT! 'WICH! o/`" So, yeah. ... She's working on her night (sand)wich. Don't judge her.
Emma Frost	With this many people crammed into even a house as large as Charles Xavier's ancestral home, well, it makes for a lot of diversity. In appearance to be sure, but also in personality and in habits. There are any number of people who tend to haunt the halls of the mansion turned school into the wee hours of the morning. And some of them can be very judgey indeed. In all fairness though Emma Frost is an equal opportunity judger. She doesn't discriminate, applying her exacting opinons to pretty much everyone. It is not unusual for the stunning blonde to be one of those who keeps late hours. Much of the time that is because she is busy in her office, working away diligently, completing lesson plans and doing other administrative work necessary to see to the proper functioning of the school. She takes that role rather seriously. But sometimes it is because she is just getting in, no doubt returning from a late night in Manhatten. Emma might work hard. That might be her default mode in point of fact. But that doesn't mean that she doesn't play hard too. Certainly she doesn't look like she's been slaving away in her office tonight, that much is for sure. She wears a shimmering dress of silver sequins that seems to catch all the limited light and reflect it back, two straps clinging to a pair of wing-like extensions that rise up to barely cover her chest, the sides of her torso left bare while the dress plunges down one leg while leaving the other almost completely uncovered as well. Strappy silver heels complete her assemble. Definitely not something that even she would normally wear around the school, despite her sometimes daring fashion choices in the past. And how exactly does she manage to make her way so quietly through the lonely, darkened halls of the mansion with barely a sound from those heels? Practice no doubt. That and the fact that she can probably sense where everyone is within the school at any given time. Makes it surprisingly easy to go about unobserved when she really wants to. Which might be why she is standing framed in the doorway of the kitchen, arms folded across her chest and an amused smile on her face as she watches the younger woman work on her late night snack -- and unintentionally observed impromptu performance. "Just what is it that you're doing Kitty?" the blonde telepath asks, her voice a rich, low purr of teasing amusement.
Kitty Pryde	Kitty Pryde is an expertly trained ninja with decades of memories in experience (not quite her own). It shouldn't be this easy to get the drop on her so often. And yet: ''Just what is it that you're doing Kitty?'' "SEQUINS!" This is not the first time a fashionable blonde has managed to get the drop on her. Not even the first time in the past two months! This, it should be noted, is the startled yelp of Katherine Ann Pryde as she just about jumps out of her oversized shirt in response to the unexpected voice piping up -just beside her-. It's quick thinking that leads to her phasing before she can smack the back of her head into the top of the fridge, stumbling backwards as she tries desperately to juggle the mass of sandwich ingredients she's scooped into her arms. What unfolds is an awkward but impressive juggling sequence that eventually sees turkey, cheese, mayo, and bread unphased and tossed onto the kitchen countertop one after the other until Kitty is left to pivot sharply and face her deadly ambusher--!! Only to find Emma Frost, glimmering and resplendent, smiling at her in that utterly entertained way you just -know- is engineered to make you feel embarrassed. And damn her, it works. For a second, Kitty is gobsmacked. Her cheeks flush pink. She stares for slightly too long at that sequin-shimmering dress. She wonders how someone could have just snuck up on her in high heels. She really wants to question how it's possible. She realizes she's staring. She then realizes Emma can probably hear all this. Up goes psychic defenses as Kitty puffs her cheeks indignantly and just kind of glares at Emma. She considers turning the question around on Emma, then considers if she needs to know the answer to that. Three more seconds pass. And then Kitty just huffs a breath and swings a hip, bumping that fridge door closed with a -=thump!=- before she turns her attention on Emma, one hand rummaging through her wild mane of curly hair. "I'm--" she considers. "-- working... on my night 'wich." And here, she plants her free hand on her hip, billow shirt pinching around the grip of her hand as she throws an accusatory brow arch Emma's way. "What? You have a problem with night sandwiches?" A second passes. And she dares: "And just what are you doing here, dressed like that, anyway!"
Emma Frost	Sometimes sneaking up on people is entirely accidental. Sometimes the other person is very absorbed in what they're doing. Sometimes they just might not expect anyone else to be around. Sometimes one might just be very quiet without really intending to be. All of these are entirely viable most of the time. But Kitty is well trained and one doesn't really manage casual stealth in heels like those, at least not on uncarpeted floors. And while she certainly might not have any reason to expect anyone else to be up and about, it is still pretty clear that the blonde telepath went just a little out of her way to approach this quietly, to offer her little surprise. Maybe it's not all that surprising though. Emma is hardly above playing a game or two at the best of times and given the hour who knows just what she might find amusing. Certainly she seems to find the present circumstances amusing. She doesn't shift at all when Kitty jumps at her seeming sudden appearance, as she goes through her elaborate juggling routine and somehow manages to keep the necessary ingredients for a good night-wich from being spilled all over the floor. It's pretty impressive really, though it is only that amusement that shows on the blonde's features. Telepaths of Emma's calibre and power generally need to actively suppress any stray thoughts directed their way, picking up all sorts of thoughts impressions without even trying. Certainly that tends to be even more likely when someone doesn't realize that she's nearby, when she catches them offguard. But if there is any telepath in the mansion who would likely violate the sanctity of the mind's privacy it would certainly be her as well, and the faintly sardonic smile and arched brow on her features certainly seems to make it a believable possibility that she was poking about in the younger woman's thoughts. Then again, Emma is probably not above leaving that impressive even if she was doing nothing of the sort. "Mmmm, so I can see," the blonde allows, gaze flickering between the sandwich stuff laid out on the counter now before back to the cute brunette. "And I have to say it was a very impressive performance," she adds, a low, barely contained laugh coloring those words. Teasing without truly poking fun. The question seems to amuse Emma and if anything that finely-sculpted brow seems to reach higher. She abandons her place doorway of the kitchen, slinking forward, towards Kitty. Not walking, not gliding, most definitely slinking. "Are you sure that you want to know just what I've been up to this evening, darling?" the blonde telepath asks archly. "Every last detail?" she purrs, practically ontop of the other woman before abruptly whirling on one heel, turning instead for the refridgerator, pulling open the door and bending over. Someone appears to be having a little fun trying to make Kitty just a little uncomfortable, a little off-balance.
Kitty Pryde	Kitty Pryde never puts -anything- past someone looking that good wearing sequins this late at night. It's a rule she literally just came up with; she's very flexible like that. Which is why, of course, Kitty affixes Emma with a witheringly suspicious glare as the blonde all but laughs at her without -actually- laughing; she can feel it in every syllable, and it just makes Kitty even more wary! The pink tinge coloring her cheeks hasn't -quite- faded before Emma has her next tease locked and loaded; so, by the time the telepath is remarking on her night time ode to sandwiches, that blush just intensifies, exponentially proportional to the pique of her glare. Oh, Emma absolutely read all her thoughts, Kitty thinks. Even the one about the sequins--! "Yeah, well!" Kitty announces roundly, hands shoving over her chest in a belligerent arm cross as she looks away. "I guess I just kick ass!" And that, as they say, is /that/-- "What, did you just come from some hoity toity TED Talk on the Importance of Judging Others--" she begins to guess, looking back Emma's way-- Just in time to see the blonde advancing on her with the most sultry slink she has ever seen in her life. Hazel eyes widen. She manages a little "um!" of a squeak as Emma approaches, taking a single step back. "I mean--" she further presses, that sharp wit of hers briefly losing itself for the second time tonight as Emma pushes into her personal space, so close she can feel the other woman's body heat-- "H-hey, wait--!" Only for Emma to abruptly pivot, leaving Kitty staring at the empty space Emma once occupied, wide eyes and lips parted for a solid four seconds. "... Ugh!" the younger woman heaves out, brunette curls bouncing as she shakes her head. "You're the worst, Emma." If Emma wanted Kitty off-balance, she got it: that blush still lingers as the mutant huffs, pivoting on her heel to face the counter once more with the bounce of that billowy shirt's hemline around her thighs. She starts pulling out slices of bread for her sandwich, muttering "Bet it was just some late night shareholder meeting for you and the rest of the Camarilla", intent on focusing on her sandwich... But gradually, inevitably, her gaze draws back towards the blonde, bending over in front of the fridge. She watches the way sequins shimmer with every shift. Her gaze darts back to her sandwich as her throat clears. "It's good to know I'm not the only one with bad sleeping habits, I guess."
Emma Frost	At the best of times Emma only seems mildly concerned with the opinions of others. Some of that could be a ploy of course, part of that well-cultivated air of indifference that she has seemingly perfected. Some of it is probably a part of that unflagging confidence that she seems to carry herself with as well. Either way, the blonde telepath certainly has a way of making it work to her advantage. Most things do, sooner or later. It is not entirely impossible that Emma would have some noctural business meeting. Afterall, her days are frequently rather busy as is and yet she still finds time to oversee her business interests. There might be any number of things to nitpick over her personality, her approach to situations, her personal moraility, but there is certainly no way to deny her work ethic. Still, while she would no doubt be dressed to the nines and be her customary epitome of grace and style if she was coming back from a business meeting, chances are she would be in slightly more business-like attire. This, assuredly, is not. While her expression might go unobserved with her head buried in the fridge and only her backside jutting out, there is no doubt that she is taking a certain amount of playful satisfaction at Kitty's unsettled indigation with her little game. She might as well be in her diamond form really, especially with the light of the fridge added to the much lower ambient glow in the kitchen. Those silver sequins on that body-hugging dress positively gleam, catching every bit of that light for a truly dazzling display. Even here, in the kitchen, with just Kitty present the blonde seems to know exactly how to make herself the center of attention. And she doesn't hesitate to do so. Certainly she seems to linger like that far longer then necessary, especially when she finally straightens, closing the door behind her, no longer backlit. Though if anything the sudden drop in illumination only makes that sparkling dress stand out all the more as she slowly turns, pivoting on those heels with practiced ease, a solitary bottle of water in her hands. Quite the display, the performance, just to collect a drink of water. But that too is very much Emma. Once more that icy blue gaze fastens to Kitty, seeming to assess her in a single glance and slinking forward again, just shy of completely invading the younger woman's space once more. "I do like the night," Emma agrees lowly, frosted lips quirked into a faint smile. "The quiet. The feel that the entire world is asleep. That sense that you could get up to absolutely anything with none the wiser," she murmurs, words dropping to something just above a whisper, forcing Kitty to listen a little more closely, to pay a little more attention. "Delicious."
Kitty Pryde	If nothing else, Kitty can't fault Emma for her work ethic. Even she knows how hard the blonde works, even if she's not always sure she trusts what Emma might be working -on-. But by god -- nothing is going to stop her from making fancy business vampire jokes at the White Queen's expense. It's her only defense right now! Emma's already got her on the back foot, and her sass is all she has! As it is, Pryde puts the sum whole of her effort into making her beautiful sandwich-to-be the center of her attention rather than the way that dress gleams just so in the cool, fluorescent lights of the fridge. Cold turkey layered over a slice of bread, Kitty casually phases her hand through the counter top until she can find a knife in the utensil drawer beneath her. She fishes it out, twirling it deftly between her fingers -even- as she slaps a slice of provolone over that turkey. Just make the night-'wich. Eat the night-'wich. Get out. Efficient mission orders. She can do this. She's even slathering the mayo on the cheese, and don't tell her whether or not all of these work together, because by god, it works for her, -and- it's kosher! She's almost done-- Hazel eyes drift back towards Emma. She watches the other woman in silence, a wary, thoughtful frown on her lips. The quiet is putting her a little bit on edge, but Emma really just has that effect on her. She's not sure what to make of that. -Or- why Emma is taking so long in the fridge. Her lips part, as if to ask if the older woman needs help finding what she's looking for (probably couched in something like "did your edible gold leafs go missing, Ms. Frost?" because that's just how Kitty rolls) when-- Emma straightens. Hazel eyes flutter out a blink before she looks away swiftly. She -feels- those frosty eyes on her. It just makes her doubly-diligent about slathering that mayo on her sandwich, hips fidgeting as she does so. Curly hair completely unbound and wild, big, outsized shirt covering up the yellow boyshorts beneath, not even wearing any shoes to speak of -- Kitty looks like she made a good faith effort at sleeping before she decided a sandwich would be better; she's hardly the splendorous sight Emma is. She's in Nighttime Snack Mode. There's only so much that can be done. She draws in a breath as Emma speaks. Hazel eyes roll. "Yeah, anything. Like binging the latest season of Below Deck: West Coast Avengers--" she begins-- And her attention turns, just to see Emma so dangerously on the precipice of her personal space. Big eyes widen all the bigger; Kitty stiffens like a board as she abruptly pivots to face Emma, pushing back up against the kitchen counter until her backside shoves that sandwich backwards an inch or two, plate rattling. The whisper, the closeness -- Kitty gulps. All she can actually think to say in the moment is: "... Y-you only wanted -water-?" She can't help the leaps her brains make in the moment. Emma was in there for so long!