Summary:Remy and Emma meet up with a potential mutant recruit in NYC and… well they creep her out and its pretty obvious! But they're trying to be nice! Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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The sun is shining, and it's not yet too cold. The leaves are starting to drop in their array of colors, the light breeze making them swirl and dance on their way down. Riley knows she should take advantage, because soon, the Park will be too cold to play in, and it will be subways and bars for the winter. She much prefers the fresh air.
Red hair falls in waves over the long sleeved pale blue sweater worn with her favorite dark blue jeans and a pair of well loved boots that have been rubbed with polish recently. The guitar picks up again once she sets her water down, chords and the use of an old, battered aluminum slide. "I'm hell on heels, say what you will, I done made the devil a deal. He made me pretty, he made me smart, and I'm gonna break me a million heart… I'm hell on heels, and baby I'm comin' for you…"
Remy pilfered someone's car from the school and used it to get into the city this afternoon. All he has is a motorcycle and he didn't feel like driving it that far south what with the air getting a bit chilly outside and all! He likes to be comfortable, after all!
So near to the park, a vehicle pulls up and finds a parking spot, one tire popping up onto a curb, the driver inside having to struggle to adjust the vehicle and bring it back down off of the concrete rise, causing a small short squeak of tires (he doens't have a driver's license!).
A moment later the car shuts off and the door opens up, a loud chorus of music coming out from inside the vehicle that is quickly deactivated along with the engine… The driver rises up and out, slaps the door shut and then starts to round the car, still humming the song and muttering its lyrics.
"There are noooo cats in America and the streets are paved with cheeeEEeeese." The Cajun carries a tune rather well when he wants. Bouncing up onto the curb himself now, he sees the guitarist and shuts up to listen to her sing now while reaching into his leather jacket to get a cigarette out and light with a little tiny spark of pink light behind a cupped hand over his mouth.
Emma needed some fresh air and didn't want to spend it on her balcony, so…down her private elevator she goes to the street, and walks to the park across the way. Washington Street Park is lovely this time of night. She's dressed in slacks, and a white leather trenchcoat over her top, so no clues there. Hands in pockets the rather striking woman in white wanders for a time, eyes of blue taking in the sights as she goes.
A faint smile at a mother watching her two kids playing a game only the kids know the rules to, it involves a lot of giggling, and bean bags. The rest…who knows? Only them.
And then the sultry strains of a lively country and western song catches her attention. Emma ambles off that way, eyeing the horribly parked car and the figure inside lighting up a cigarette. And that familiar, though not /well/ familiar, face draws an amused shake her head. «Hello, Remy LeBeau.» She bespeaks, but only speaks. Most likely. Emma continues to approach the singer, however, sitting down on a bench where she can listen and watch the rather pretty ginger ply her musical skills.
Riley has one boot toe tapping and keeping time out of habit against the pavement. There's a brilliant smile at a passerby who drops a dollar bill into the jar in front of her guitar case. A little more generousity, and she might be able to afford a couple of those cheap slices on the way home tonight, versus something cheap on her tiny stove in her studio.
"This diamond ring on my hand, is the only good thing that came from that man, got a GTO from one named Joe, and a big piece of land in Mexico.. I'm hell on heels, baby I'm comin' for you." Is it the pink spark that catches her eye? Is it the Cajun himself? Hard to tell, though she does give another little engagin smile his way before she's looking around again. She notes the woman in the white trench, giving her a curious glance.
Out of the car and on the curb now, with that cigarette lit between his lips, Remy's eyes are peering in the daylight toward the redheaded singer now, and when she looks his way and he gets a small smile from her he responds by just raising his left hand and giving her a little 'Hey there' wave.
But its Emma's words that make the Cajun take pause and causes his eyes to sweep left, then right. "Mom?" He questions the ghostly voice that just entered into his mind without any warning. When he looks right though he spies Emma in her trademark bright shaded clothing and, well… everything else about Emma stands out too. He grins to her and saunters her way, glancing to Riley once more before he reaches where Frost is and lingers beside where she sits, he remains standing.
Eyes on Riley, enjoying the song after all, he speaks softly over to Emma though. "I din't know you were around here, Frosty." He says. "It good to see you." His cigarette is plucked from his lips then and he puffs a spout of smoke up into the sky to get carried away by the wind.
Emma finds herself drawn in by the girl's performance, enjoying the music rather a lot, and then frowns as she feels a subtle mental influence emanating. Eyes of blue narrow, meeting the girl's gaze, and a faint smile offered. She weighs and assesses the 'flavor' of that influence, and nots to herself, raising a very tenuous shield, more than sufficient to block the untrained influence the girl exerts. "Interesting." A brief scan confirms. "A mutant…"
And then Remy saunters over. "Hello, Cajun." She greets, eyes of blue amused at his 'Mom'. "And Catseye would call me 'MotherMotherFrost', but you? Not so much."
Emma points to one of the buildings facing the park, to the penthouse. "Very close." She says with a smile.
And then she rises and moves to the tip jar, a folded up bill put in, the denomination not visible. She doesn't interrupt the song, but her smile is approving as she returns to the bench and the Cajun. "Friend of yours?" She asks the man, brushing some wayward strands of cornsilk hair from her sapphire eyes.
Riley's aqua eyes meet Emma's, a hint of a smile before she looks down at the guitar, faintly flushing. She's reached the guitar solo part of this particular song, and if Emma is paying attention, that lure of voice drops away. So it apparently isn't just something that comes from her person itself.
There's a brighter smile, another glance of bright eyes before she nods her thank you to Emma, and finishes the song, "I'm hell on heels, say what you will, I've done made the devil a deal, He made me pretty, He made me smart, I'm gonna break me a million hearts, I'm hell on heels, Sugar Daddy I'm comin' for you.."
Remy does a back and forth look between the singer and Emma when she speaks of the performer possibly being a mutant. This intrigues him, at least a little, not too much… he knows a lot of mutants after all.
When Emma points to the building that her penthouse is at the peak of, the Cajun regards the building itself as a whole. "You built that whole place?" He asks with a bit o dumbfounded exasperation on his tone and expression given to her. "You never cease t'impress me, Frosty." He states then, now showing a playful grin. "I can barely put t'gether my cat's litter box."
When asked if this redhead is a friend of his, he looks back to her, takes another puff on his cigarette while he listens to the song and watches Riley, then shakes his head. "Nope. Not dis one." He glances back to Emma then. "She pretty too. But… I got prettiest gal waitin' for me back home." Rogue's probably not actually waiting for him as she's got her own life, but he's a dreamer, let him dream!
The faint flush from the Singer earns a sultry little hint of a laugh from Emma, and then she inclines her head to acknowledge the thanks given. Later on, when Riley checks she'll find a hundred dollar bill in that tight rolled tip. Smallest bill Emma had on hand, actually, the only bill she had on hand. What use for cash for Emma Frost?
Clearly - tips.
Remy's comment about the building makes her laugh. "Oh no no, I didn't build it, just bought it and had the top floors remodeled and a private elevator added, I fell in love with the view, you see." Which really? Might be even worse. Emma lives in a world that few can begin to fathom, the expense of such an undertaking would have been grotesque, and she wasn't even given pause.
"Ah, interesting, she's definitely a mutant, however. I think her voice is the focus of her power." This is said softly enough that it is unlikely to be heard aby anyone beyond them…and possibly the singer.
The redhead picks up a bottle of water for a sip, another glance around. The sun isn't as bright now, and she's considering how many more songs she can play before it gets too chilly. There's another glance at Emma and Remy, and Emma may feel a gently, barely there mental check of telepathy before she's playing again.
"My lover's got humor, she's the giggle at a funeral, knows everybody's disapproval, shoulda worshipped her sooner.."
Shortly after the next song stars, Remy takes his chance to move in an drop a bill in beside Emma's, he gives Riley a good rogue'ish grin as he steps back then, letting that fine sweet $5 bill settle in next to Emma's $100, he having not realized that Emma had put THAT MUCH in the collection for the performance.
So proud of himself to help the poor starving artist with five bones… he gives a gloating grin to Emma and then reaches up to pluck the remainder of his cigarette from between his lips. He holds it between his palms and lets it sizzle up and away in a covered burst of his own power between his hands. "Ouchie." He quietly says then, waving his hands at his sides then and there. "Forgot my gloves."
A glance is shown to Emma then. "Lotsa mutants around here, Frosty." He then says, nodding toward the singer. "I like this song… she pretty, she not seeming t'have any problems. She probably be singing on some big tv talent show in a matter'a weeks."
As the ginger singer reaches out with her telepathy, so too does Emma, meeting her half way and establishing a mind-link, surface thoughts only, but the the link surrounded by some adamantine shields. «Hello there, songbird.» The mind voice? Clearer than any voice could ever be - there's /no/ distortion, no background noises, nothing but pure thought broadcasting thoughts as words. «I am Emma Frost.»
Even as she introduces herself to the singer, she smiles up to Remy and nods approvingly as he smugs. "Very generous." And there's only a little mockery to her smile. She really does appreciate that his gesture is far more meaningful for hers - five bucks to him represents far more than a hundred to her. She makes so much money each day that it would actually be a LOSS for her pause and pick up a hundred dollar bill off the ground.
"Tsk, tsk…you should take more care, Remy LeBeau, I'm afraid I can't kiss it make it better." She quips. A nod. "There are, a lot." She agrees. "And her power is mental in nature, telepathy and empathy, tied to her voice…a siren's song." She says with a smile.
There's a single missed note at that mental connection, but aqua eyes meet blue with the startlement that doesn't show as she keeps playing, the song leaving her lips that feel like they belong to a stranger. She's clearly been trained to some degree as a performer, the way she keeps going, despite external circumstances.
« Riley. » Comes back the response, a soft and tentative mental voice, as if she doesn't use it often. « Sorry, no one's ever.. »
Remy just grins over at Emma. "Why Emma, if I didn't know better, I'd say you're about t'invite this girl onta a date." He teases his snow white-hued friend. "I for one am in support of dis plan." He adds while still rubbing his slightly burnt palms together, making him look like a cartoon villain probably.
A glance is given then between the two women and he shrugs his shoulders. "I be happy t'invite her to Xavier's if she needs a place though, but I don' like speakin' for them much. I don' think they like me speakin' for them much neithe'a."
Emma's eyes are bright with amusement, a hint of wicked to their sapphire depths. «Hello, Riley.» Emma's mind-voice continues with that same diamond clarity, there's no way that Riley would be likely to miss just how /refined/ this woman's control is, and the feel of just how powerful to boot. She's not hiding either, you see…nor is she flaunting, but for eyes that look, the truth will be plain. «Do not apologize, Riley. I am not upset, though after your song if you'd like, my…mmm…associate, I suppose…and I would very much like to talk with you.»
A sultry laugh as Remy voices his approval, and she nods. "Oh, I'd definitely consider it, she's quite lovely. No argument there." She smiles up to the rather tall Cajun. "I invited her to talk with us after she finishes her song, available?"
Emma will feel that Riley's shielding could use a lot of work, it may even surprise Emma that she gets by in such a city like New York. She's singing the next verse, and Emma notices more strength - does she use the voice as a lure, or as protection? She just nods to Emma, glancing at Remy again, before she finishes her song.
Guitar in its case, her tip jar stuffed into her backpack, before she's got both in hand and walking over to the bench.
Remy is now stuffing his hands away into his brown leather trench coat, beneath it he's wearing dark charcoal colored slacks with slightly lighter pinstripes on the fabric, a dark purple shirt and a black and red necktie, he's very well dressed, for whatever reason.
A slight grin is shown to Emma and he shakes his head. "I got no where t'be for awhile yet. It still early. Came up here t'get some special good kinda food t'cook up all week, steaks'n'such from the good places down here in the Big Apple. But, that only take a few minutes. Happy t'help ya out." He tells her.
As Riley picks up and starts toward them, he smiles to her, then draws his right hand out of his pocket and offers it to her. "Why hello." He says in his dashing Cajun flavored voice. "I'm Remy, this here is Pretty Penthouse Mamma." He motions to Emma, then grins to them both. "I mean, this here my friend Emma Frost." He does his own introductions, cause he didn't know they talked some already with their magic brain powers!
By way of instruction, Emma pokes at but doesn't break through any of the weak points she finds in Riley's shields. This will illustrate where the weak points are, and demonstrates that she does in fact know a thing or three. She's definitely fascinated by the interaction between mind and voice, it is not something she's encountered before, which makes it all the more intriguing.
She stands as she singer finishes up her song, a nod to Remy. "Thank you, monsieur." She says, her accent VERY hoity-toity, but hey, Emma.
An amused smirk, though her eyes might be a little hard for a moment. "Nonsense, I turned Penthouse down, actually." Is she serious? Seems it. And then she smiles. "Riley, a pleasure." She looks to the pair then. "I was thinking it might be nice to get a bite to eat, are either of you fond of Italian?"
Riley blushes, shaking Remy's hand. "Riley. A pleasure." She bites at her bottom lip, looking between the two of them, wondering what the connection is. She knows they didn't walk into the park together, so.. He's someone she could see at Luke's, whereas Emma would much prefer one of the upscale uptown bars - if she would deign to go to a bar at all.
She will blink, and Emma may sense a mental scurry as Riley tries to juggle and replan her budget. Maybe she could be okay, if the place has a small side salad, or something.
At the question of being fond of Italian, Remy places his hands back into his pockets after smiling back to Riley and then he looks between the two ladies. "Never met one in my whole life I cared for." He quips in an off-color sort've silly attempt at being funny. He smirks at himself a second later and shakes his head lightly to Emma. "It sounds fine t'me, I can eat a bit. Skipped breakfast like it were leg-day." An exercise joke too!
Remy shows a grin then toward Riley and does a little motion toward her guitar. "You play nice. Should get yourself a recordin' and get famous. I'd come see your shows. Got plenty'a friends who'd dig a voice like you got too. You could make much more money than you might be makin' out here."
"Oh, no, not at a restaurant…I live across the street, I believe chef made Portobello ravioli tonight, and he so enjoys when I have guests over. If you're not too bored of such?" Across the street from Washington Park, yeah, definitely this woman would likely be more likely to frequent an upscale bar. For Remy this might be a bit of a surprise, a tacit invitation into Emma's /home/? That's a big show of trust. "If you'd rather dine out, we can stop by the Hellfire Club, they'll be sure to make you whatever you'd like."
Once the two make up their minds, Emma smiles. "You've definitely got the gift of music, Riley. I was very impressed." She can't help but smile at Remy's brattiness, and shakes her head. "I can see why your Rogue is so fascinated, monsier LeBeau." Yes, 'The Handsome'. Apt? Why yes!
Riley flushes, just a bit. "Thank you. I'm studying music at college. I.. I can't afford a studio session, being a college student and all. So that's a way off, yet. I just do this to cover things that college loans don't." Like real food, her tiny studio off campus, more strings..
She blinks at Emma, that mental dashing stopping at a halt. "I.. " She doesn't even know what the Hellfire club /is/ and she doesn't want to seem too country mouse. "Portabello ravioli sounds great, if you're sure.."
Remy just holds a sly grin and shakes his head lightly. "I think it wise that you spare this young lady the… uh… intricacies's that club, at least for now." He then motions around them to the park and looks back to Riley. "You a student at NYU?" He asks of her then. Washington Square Park is considered NYU's campus after all.
A slight grin is sent back Emma's way. "Rogue my better half. That is a fact, I spend mosta my day tryin' t'remind her that I'm worth bein' around." Its possible that the Cajun has a bit of self esteem issues, if you dig past all the exterior bravado that he's usually shoveling.
He shoots a look back to Riley then. "Want fancy apartment food? It probably cost more than either'a us would make in a year. That means it the best kinda food, yeah?"
"Well, I might know a few people, perhaps we can arrange something." Emma says with a faint smile. "Mm, I'm sure." She confirms when Riley asks, and laughs at Remy's commentary. "It is not nearly the cost of either of your annual incomes, not a single meal, that's absurd." Beat. "Two meals, perhaps." Yes, there's a lip quiver as she holds back laughter, see? Emma DOES have a sense of humor.
Decision to eat in made, she leads the way across the street to her building, a nod to the security guard and the building concierge as she leads her guests to the private elevator.
No musak inside the elevator, and there's only two buttons - one for the penthouse, one for the lobby. And up you all go.