2011-01-25: Kitchen Explosion


Christopher_icon.jpg Emma_icon.jpg Shane_icon.jpg Tara_icon.jpg

Summary: Emma pokes at Shane a little too much in an attempt to help.

Date: January 25, 2011

Log Title: Kitchen Explosion

Rating: Pg-13

Xavier Mansion - Kitchen

This kitchen was designed to feed large numbers of people, and looks it with its bright white walls and stainless steel appliances. The stove, refrigerator, and dishwasher are all larger than normal. There is an island with stools around it for people to sit and eat around along with a table for twelve by the windows in back. Along the wall is a hole in the wall looking into the dining room so food can be passed back and fourth. Anything you want to cook or eat in the kitchen you will find the food and supplies to do so.

With the brief window between the lunch hours and afternoon classes, the kitchen can be found to be unattended save for the occasonial sneak of a student or staff member. Off at the corner table this afternoon, down from her proverbial Ivory Tower is one Emma Frost. A half-eaten apple, cut perfectly for slices with a small bit of a yogurt dip close by, she seems in somewhat of… hiding. Instead of her usual business dress, she's down to a white tank top with a white sport bra underneath, and white yoga pants, with her blonde hair in a tastefully hasty bun. Sitting on the table with her is a book, one of the latest mystery novels from one of the more popular authors out there. As she flips the page and deftly slices another piece off to chew, her head turns to feel other presences close by. The brief temptation to cloak herself passes,and she leaves herself as is, sitting there in the most casual fashion of a lioness taking a sun nap in the middle of a highway.

Dressed in a nice pair of black slacks and a button down dark purple shirt, Christopher comes into the kitchen with a few Trader Joes backs on each arm with his work back slung over his shoulder. Spotting Emma in the room, Christopher gives her a bit smile. "Good afternoon Emma dear, I hope you don't mind me doing bit of cooking in here. I'm going to be making a few different types of stew for dinner tonight and I know the rolls are going to take a while to rise as well." He states as he starts to unload the bags onto the counter. He stops half way through with a huff.

"Darn it, I've still got hair on my pants, I thought I got it all before I left the salon." He mutters as he grabs his lint roller from his bag and starts to clean up a bit.

The cafeteria may be the traditional lunchtime haunt of the bulk of the school, and a good place to dive into the comfortable anonymity of the crowd, but everyone knows the Kitchen is where the *good* food is kept. Which is why, when Shane pushes open the door to find the Headmistress and the Home Ec teacher inside, she sidles on past instead of ducking back out, doing her best to will herself into being part of the scenery… a tactic bound for failure, when one is wearing a reasonably accurate Agatha Heterodyne dress, whether or not she has the figure for it. The pink-and-neon-blue hair, something of a giveaway as well.

To Tara, living at the Mansion is like what living at Hogwarts is to Harry Potter. Except her family isn't anything like the Dursleys. They're just… mundane. You don't get evil overlords, or magic zombies or anything like that when staying at your parents, and while others would dread the thought of that being part of your regular school cirriculum, it's something she seems to thrive on. Which is why going home for the holidays totally sucked for her. But not she's back and and she's hungry for adventure! Or food. Food actually sounds good right now so she's found herself heading to the kitchen to see is she can do a little bit of blind girl cooking. Hearing familiar voices coming from the kitchen she bursts in, "Hi Miss Frost, Mr. Parker!"

«…and somewhere, Tim Gunn is awaking from a nightmare and assuring his facial has not slipped off…», Christopher hears casually in his head from the second most powerful psychic on staff, Emma's eyes travelling over Shane's choice of Victorian frump meeting 80s Punk, and then a slightly more amused, «I think even Sebastian Shaw might have been stunned by that one.» A small smile curling up her lips before saying for the others to hear, "Hello Miss Kincaid. We have missed you as well. And yes… I am slumming. If Scott or anyone comes for me, I am not here. I am elsewhere. Doing in important things. And aggravating important people with more money than good sense." The slight curl of one side of her white-glossed lip could do the Cheshire cat credit, or teach him a few lessons.

Christopher looks up at Emma Frost and grins. "If only I could be as amazing as Tim Gunn." He comments outloud to unheard comment. He finishes getting the stray bits of hair off of his clothes from his day at the Salon and goes back to unpacking vegetables, meat and other stew goods. "So how are you today Emma?" He asks as he looks at the two girls who just walked in. "Hello Shane, Tara, how are you doing today. And that outfit is quite facinating Shane." He says with a friendly smile. "If either of you are up for lunch, I think there is some left over Macarroni and Cheese with Panchetta in the frige or I can make you something."

Tara gives Emma a thumbs up in her general direction. "Gotcha." To Christopher she says, "I'm going great. really glad to be back here, although it took a lot of convincing to get my mom to agree to let me back." At the mention of the Mac & Cheese she says, "Ooooo. That sounds good. Where is it?"

Shane, with large noice-cancelling earphones blasting something or other directly into her head, seems to completely miss Christopher's suggestion for lunch… however her path takes her to the fridge regardless, and the sound of things being pushed aside can be heard for a moment, before she backs out holding the spaghetti and meatballs left over from a day or two prior. Turning, she pauses, blinking at Christopher, after a moment realizing someone had spoken to her. The earphones are pulled off her head, and with only one hand free there's a brief burst of // o/~ Sinister Rouge! Coming back for more, to even the score~! // before her iPod is properly dealt with. Once the music shuts off, she raises her eyebrows in inquiry. "Hm?"

Turning the page of her book, Emma replies to Shane without looking up, "Christopher was offering to be a darling and cook for you, Miss Morgenstern. And an entire generation of women openly wept when he came out of what little closet there was." The impish smile remains in place on Emma's lips, the humor completely evident in her cultured Bostonian accent, "Truly, can you explain something for me… why is it those who purport themselves to be on the fringes of the social classes and maintain they wish to be left alone… wear such things that make attention drawn to them almost by default?"

The Cheshire grin remains… since this is coming from a woman who only wears white, half the time magic spandex or leather, and runs around with men who would put a wrestling federation to shame…

Christopher looks over at Emma in and pure teacherly fashion, playfully sticks his tounge out at her. "And you should know Emma, you were one of the ones who wept." He looks at Shane and nods. "I was saying there is Mac and Cheese with Panchetta in the fridge, which is where it is Tara, on the middle shelf in a large metal tray." He says hoping she can find it. .

For most people, it's difficult to tell that Emma's comment has registered beyond a brief, deep blush. Those telepathically inclined, however, would register a nigh-instinctual flare of anger colored with self-recrimination and a need to be somewhere, anywhere else. Perhaps the oddest thing about the reaction, almost none of it conscious, simply reflex-response. "S'fine," she murmurs, holding up the Tupperware and plucking a fork from the nearby drawer, "this'll do." And with that, she scuttles toward the door, avoiding anyone else's eyes… even those of the blind girl, because in this place you never know.

Tara shrugs, "She looks fine to me." Of course, everybody looks the same to the blind girl. Once the Home-Ec teacher describes where the leftovers are she cries, "GIMME!" and pounces the fridge.

When she speaks again, Emma is up and casually walking barefoot to the espresso machine to prepare herself something, but her voice cuts with calm clarity, "Of anyone on this campus, Miss Morgenstern… we three are the only ones uniquely suited to understand you, or your world… and are also those who could be sympathetic. Appearances can be just as much camoflague as a flag for attention. Whatever this is… whatever it might be… is something you need to understand and face. But doing so without context serves you no purpose. Take Miss Kincaid here for any example. She is blind. However, she can also see perfectly fine with her powers. She does not want anyone helping her see again, nor does she like the intrusion. The example is not one to consider that your abilities can be a benefit, and not a crutch… but there is a point where… you really must stop anyone else from driving your self-image."

"Also Ms. Kincaid needs to learn some manners." Christopher says walking over to put his hand on the door of the refridgerator so Tara can't open it. "I didn't hear a thank you at all Tara, sometimes polietness can go a long way. We're not just a pack of wild animals here. We don't need you to be Helen Keller as potrayed in the Miricle Worker." He says before listening to Emma with Shane. "Oh Emma, don't be so hard on Shane. It's already awkward enough being a teenager without having your faults pointed out at you. I was an incredibly awkward teen."

Emma's words are well-chosen, and cut deeply through Shane's armor of I'm-not-interested-go-away, causing her to stop dead in her tracks. The anger returns, as does the flush to her face, but both only begin to grow with each passing second. "I *get* it," the teen says, not turning around. "Loud and clear. Can I go eat now?"

Tara grunts as the door to the fridge becomes much harder to open as she had expected it to. "Thank you, Mr. Parker," comes her sullen response, after being reprimanded. Her head swivels slightly as Shane bursts out, and opens her mouth to say something. But in a rare moment of forethought, she reconsiders it and decides that it's better she just not say anything.

Emma starts grinding some beans, and then begins the process of filtering the coffee through, not looking at Shane the entire time, but somehow her focus is felt, "Can you? Of course. Will you is an entirely other matter. I try and make a point to learn something of every student here… not just the files and facts, but of the people. I am quite clear that by far and large most of the boys lust after me, and most of the girls despise me for looking as I do… and predominantly I am hated as being a overbearing… well… insert your favorite colorful word here and there. But… I want you to know something. I dye my hair too."

She then adds, checking on her milk as she starts to foam it up, "And yes… my breasts ARE the best money can buy… as much as I would deny it to anyone who would snicker up their sleeves at me."

Christopher can't deny what Emma is saying, he can tell these things. "Though I will say, you really should see me for your hair dying need Emma." He says before looking down to Tara and removing his hand. "Your welcome Tara." He says before looking between Emma and Shane. "Emma, really, I think you need to give it a rest for now." He says as he can tell the girl is getting quite uncomfortable.

There's a sudden clatter, as fork and Tupperware hit the floor, and a very, *very* flushed Shane suddenly bolts. Not for the door, but for the windows, fingers fumbling at the latch for a moment as fine motor control gets in the way of the red haze of anger and adrenalin-fueled panic. Thankfully, the windows open before she has to try breaking the glass, and she dives out, hedges rustling as she claws her way away from the mansion. Seconds later, the reason for this behavior becomes apparent as the sound of an explosion, if a relatively small one, rattles the windows and sends vegetation flying from ground zero.

"Wow," says Tara appreciatively. "Those must be some…. breasts…" Her voice trails off as Shane suddenly bolts for it. She looks somewhat amazed as she hears the blast from outside. "Did she… just literally explode?"

Managing an almost perfect leave in the cappucino she was making, Emma murmurs out, "Armor not only keeps everything out, but it also keeps us in, locked with our demons." A sprink of cinammon goes over the top, just a dusting, and the espresso cup is set on a plate before the White Queen smiles politely to Christopher and Tara, "If you will both pardon me… I will go retrieve Miss Morgenstern. I do not simply do these things because I enjoy them. Everything has a point." Passing by she kisses Christopher on the cheek, and pushes her feet into a pair of white leather sandals close to the door before adding to Tara, "Yes… yes they are. Remember your table manners when Christopher can see you Tara… what you do when no one is here though… is your business." Once more that Cheshire comes out to play, and the door closes behind her as Emma walks calmly out to the blast point, the coffee actually meant for Shane and not herself.

Christopher watches Shane leave out the window and runs after her, leaning out the window himself. "Shane!" He calls out to her as he has to duck from getting hit with a bunch of loose shrubbery. "Emma, I would suggest letting her cool off." He calls after her as she leaves and shakes his head, the frustrated look on his face unseen to Tara. "And Tara, you should practice manners even when I'm not here. It's a good habbit to get into." He says as he starts to put his groceries in the fridge for later, with a bit more force then intended.

The hedges outside the mansion have developed a fairly sizable crater; for roughly ten feet around Shane, the hedges have been blasted away, digging a small circular furrow in the ground beneath her. At the epicenter, the girl herself is curled up into a shaking, miserable ball, her clothes utterly ruined; only the most determined double-stitching remains, shreds of suede and cotton dangling off her thin, pale frame. As Emma approaches, the shuddery noises of weeping desperately kept silent can be heard.

Calmly and carefully, Emma makes her way around and outside to where Shane is in her small ball, and then sits down on the scorched earth, and touches her shoulder, while settling the drink down on the unstained grass. Her voice comes as a whisper this time, meant only for the girl, but certain others who hear better than they see can pick up, "I realize what I represent to you, Shania… I am casual cruelty, I am the insult simply for the sake of making someone else feel good. I am the Facebook page spammed with embarrassing pictures of yourself taken when you had not noticed. But that is not who or what I am. For all that on the surface that I am a horrible person, capable of hardness enough to stun the most stalwart… I also made a promise long ago. That I would help every young man and woman I could never to grow up like I did. Like any of us did. But some wounds must be pierced, again and again.. until the blood runs clean. Otherwise, the poison always returns."

Tara suddenly feels very uncomfortable around here, and it's not because she's being reprimanded by Christopher. "Um," she says listening as Emma follows the girl outside. A small awkward silence before asking, meekly, "Want some help with that?"

Christopher nods to Tara. "Sure, I'll have to go talk to Shane later and see how she's doing." He says as he moves aside so Tara can help him. "So, were you invited to go on that trip to Africa to help out?" He asks trying to change the subject.

Shane flinches away from the touch, turning her back to the voice. "Go away," she whispers between sobs, plucking at the bands of suede that haven't joined the wrecked flora some distance away. "Just go away…"

"Yeah, but I think my mother would have had a heart attack if I went," Tara answers, as she uses her powers to lift out all the different items of the bag in front of her. "I mean, it was hard enough to convince her to let me come back after the winter break."

"And do what, Miss Morgenstern? Go away and do what?" Looking around as Emma motions with her other arm, literally projecting warmth around the pair in the cold afternoon, her psychic gifts buffering the girl against the worst of the weather, while she doesn't even utter a puffed steam breath, "Go away and not care? Go away and not let you matter?" And a brief snort comes from Emma's nostrils, "Hardly. You have far too much potential to be wasted with so much emotional armor. The dress is a pity… it was beautifully stitched too. Far be it from me to say, but if you put your mind to it, you could well make your mark on the New York fashion set. But a designer needs the confidence to stand the scorn of others who cannot or will not see their vision, and press on."

Christopher risks a glance out the window and sighs. He's not sure how far Emma is going to get with the girl. "Yeah, I've heard that story with one or two students. Mike is the main one I remember." He says as he finishes putting everything away. "Well I hate to bolt after that but I really need a shower and talk to Jeri about a few things. Enjoy your lunch Tara. Ciao!" He says as he gathers his Trader Joes bags and personal bag and exits the kitchen.

"*YES,*" Shane all but wails, "stop it! Just *stop talking* and *go away!*" If she could contract further, the girl would definitely be doing it. "You talk and talk and talk and say you care but you *ruined it!* Are you happy now?! You all keep *talking* and *talking* and *WON'T EVER JUST SHUT UP!*"

Nudging the hot cappucino closer, Emma replies with… nothing. No speech, no responses of rejoinder. Just the smell fo the drink, and the warmth she seems to project around the pair that fights the cold from making the girl feel even worse. Curling her legs up close to her body, the woman rests her chin perfect on one knee as she watches Shane now… not seeming to precisely wait, but at the same time… a staunch refusal is there to just abandon the girl.

Without even looking, Shane sweeps a hand out, batting the cup away. Casual cruelty, thrown back in the older mutant's face. "Stop," she says through clenched teeth. "Stop it, okay? You're not *listening,* I don't *want* you to help. You've done *enough.*"

Tara helps Christopher put away the groceries best she can, and gives him a wave as he goes. She, then, peeks her head outside to see how the Headmistress and Explody-girl are doing. Those sensitive to these kinds of things can feel the air pressure about them increase. A scrap of leather lifts off the ground briefly as Tara examines it before letting fall, and she disappears back inside.

Looking away for a moment, some of that perfect bun slips, leaving a few locks to hang free, Emma says quietly, "Wants and needs are two different beasts, child… and recognizing them becomes important." After that she stands up, and begins to carefully dust off her yoga pants, "I am listening… I am always listening. I cannot help but listen. That is my burden. A burden that drove me to an insane asylum when I was your age. And it became my experience that if you want people to listen, you either have to make them listen, or you chance to stumble upon the rare person who listens without reservation." After that, she stretches out, and looks up at the window where Tara is hiding, "Miss Kincaid… would you kindly bring out some spare things for Miss Morgenstern? There is a spare set of sweatpants and a jogging top that should suffice. You will find my door is unlocked."

Shane says nothing, and what can be gleaned from her thoughts is not encouraging; the young girl has long since locked herself down, and even if she acknowledges Emma's words, it's clear that they're not allowed to penetrate any farther than the simmering resentment of yet another outsider ignoring what she wants for her own good.

Emma takes a few steps away to straighten her hair up, and says perhaps a bit too loudly to be personal, or perhaps is just being unthinking due to the moment, "God's blood, I wish Jean was alive right now… she'd be a fit of giggles… of course she was always better at this kind of thing. Little miss perfect in every way. Xavier's favorite, never had to do a thing to look better than she needed to, and all the boys wanted her. And yet somehow… she always managed to make friends with even the most distant of individuals… always managed to find a common ground. She couldn't even die like everyone else… even Death favors her…" The black tone can't helped but be noted as she finishes tucking her hair back, and looks over her shoulder at Shane for a moment.

Tara reappears moments later with a few articles of clothing in her hands. They're not the ones that Emma had instructed her to go get, since she was already halfway to the gym to get some loaners that should fit the other girl. "C'mon," she says. "Let's get you not naked." After Emma's monologue, she says, "Well, I never met her, but I don't think she'd be the type of person to lecture people while they're /naked/."

"…Three hundred dollars," Shane's voice is heard to say, as she starts to rise, snatching the clothes out of Tara's grip with a muted grunt, possibly in thanks.

"Cash, check, or spending card?" Is Emma's only reply as she crosses to where Tara is, and nods her head once, "You are right… it was poor of me to do so while she was in this state… but it would have been even worse for anyone to have seen her like this. I have been screening out the rest of the school from noticing her… except for yourself. But such required me to remain close, as well as to keep the chill from affecting her. I would not leave her alone like this, for anyone to find, and prejudge."

"Don't care," the girl with the multicolored hair grunts. "Just want my iPod and headphones back." Divesting herself of the last shreds of her costume brings another stab of pain at the corners of her eyes, but the way she stomps down on her anger is almost visible, and instead she simply shoves her feet into the sweats, head turned well away from anyone who may be looking at her.

Tara takes Shane's grunt as a thanks and gives her a shrug. "No problem." She, then, turns to the headmistress and sighs. "I wasn't talking about /that/. That's something /she/ would do." She being Jean Grey, of course. "But /she/ wouldn't stand there and think, 'Hey! I just made one of my students explodes by playing evil psychologist! Let's see if I can get her to do it again!'" She shrugs again, and lifts the ipod out of the mud with her power and floats it over to easy grabbing range to Shane. "Anyway. I'm going to be late for class."

A nod goes to Tara, "And as much as I adore undermining the dictatorship of the kitchen, Miss Kincaid… good manners are never wasted. Please do remember them." And with that she walks over and picks up the kicked over cup and plate, checking them for any cracks or otherwise, "And miss Kincaid… we all need to explode sometime."

Emma then adds softly, "It's in how we manage that explosion, and how we deal with those around when it happens that proves the true strength of our character."

Shane takes hold of the ruined device, turning it over in her hands. Letting out a shuddery, explosive gust of breath, she turns, marching back towards the house. As she passes by Emma, the twisted piece of electronics is tossed to the ground at her feet, Shane picking up her pace as though simply walking won't get her away fast enough. While mental shielding classes have been offered, and taken, the teenager has rarely demonstrated much skill in the application, and her humiliated misery trails far behind her, a black miasma that shows no signs of lifting anytime soon.

Emma Frost is many things… and one of them seems to be honest. Before the end of the school day, Shane will find in her dorm room, just past where the door will swing, a box and a bag. The box has her exact model of iPod in it, same color, and any custom work has been duplicated to the best of whomever's ability it was to do so. The headphones are the same. And in the bag is the necessary fabric to replace the dress that was ruined. With them is a note. A simple white card with pen writing that says 'No More. No Less.'

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