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| Topic Started: Dec 15 2009, 11:01 AM (805 Views) | |
| Emma Frost | Jan 17 2010, 02:11 AM Post #16 |
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Ruby steadied himself from falling and substituted a collapse onto the floor with a collapse into a seat. He offered her some of his Scotch which Emma wisely took. Without the aid of her diamond form to block out the effect his attack had from getting to her emotions, she needed the aid the liquor would allow. In unladylike fashion she took a swig right from the bottle. The liquor burned as it hit the back of her throat. She had to give the thief some credit he had excellent taste in Scotch. Good she thought as the warmth from the Scotch spread throughout. liquid courage work thy magic. As he smoked and drank he seemed to relent to her plan. Giving her a list of his requirements and adding in his warnings of what he would do if she tried and cross him. She needed no such verbal reminder, his hands around her diamond throat had driven the point home well enough. She would keep two eyes on him whenever she could spare them. There was no loyalty amongst thieves nor in those that had dealings with them, but they seemed to have reached a compromise. Both could deliver something the other needed, and if that wasn't the nature of commerce she didn't know what was. "Every step of the way, you'll be watched. Blink wrong and you'll just be a bonus in my bank account, you got it, Missus Frost?" "Crystal clear, Mr. Summers. Voyeur to your hearts content. We're partners after all now aren't we? I'll have all the information and plans you need by the end of the week, and lighten up a little, darling. It is your birthday." She spoke in feigned sweetness. This was not her first deal with a devil nor she imagined would it be her last. She did not need to search through his mind to find some semblance of what people would call a soul left. She imagined somewhere in there, beneath the booze and the rage and the anger there was a spark of good in the criminal, but she had no desire to excavate it out. His demons were his own. She only desired what he could now give her, and she imagined he saw her in the same light. She approached the man with the red glasses and kissed him in farewell. He had by his methods left his mark of impression on her. In her own way she wanted to leave hers on him. "I'll be in touch" Emma spoke as she turned on her heels and in as dramatic a fashion as she was known for exited the small theatre. |
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| Cyclops | Jan 17 2010, 07:56 AM Post #17 |
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Punches from the Punch Dimension
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She kissed him teasingly, the taste of his scotch on her lips, and despite himself, Ruby felt his body respond to her. Emma Frost was an ice queen, a diamond hard bitch with an agenda he couldn't figure out, but damn, she was a nice little package wasn't she. It might seem stupid for him to look at other women when Lorelei could be all women, but there was something about Emma that Lorelei lacked. For being as powerful as she was, around Ruby she lacked the confidence that she'd once had. Her power had drawn him to her, that competence, that strength, but somewhere along the way, where it came to their relationship, she'd lost it. She deferred to him, which in his gang dealings he liked, he wanted, he demanded. In their relationship, however, sometimes he wanted a more forceful hand, sometimes he needed to have someone else take the control. Did that make him weak? No. It made him tired. Heavy weighs the head that wears the crown, right? She reminded him that it was his birthday as she sashayed out, and from behind his glasses he watched her go, with predation in his hidden eyes. She had the control that he wanted, the strength, and this game they had just entered into was immensely attractive to the power hungry man that Ruby was. No one bested him. And, sacrifices would be made for this control. When she left, when he was certain she was out of the building, but before she had the chance to leave the area, Ruby, looked up at the ceiling, and removed his glasses, allowing his powers to shred the theatre's roof to dust. He held his cane to his eyes, and struck the groove that directed the beam like a prism. The building exploded around him and he stood motionless in the middle of debris, unafraid, untouched. Lowering his glasses, he brushed a speck of dust from his lapel, and he picked up the scotch bottle, draining the last of it, as he headed to his car. Sanctuary had been invaded and destroyed. Control was now his again. Happy Fucking Birthday. |
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1:02 AM Jul 11