𝔡𝔦𝔬𝔯 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔞𝔩𝔴𝔞

Exhaled sigh at the White Queen’s voice, drawing his attention from the stack of cash that he’d been stuffing into the black duffel bag to straighten himself out. Turning, he greets her with a smirk, arms crossing and locking over his chest. “Maybe, but…” Nose scrunches ever so slightly, shoulders pulling into a shrug. “It’s a good change in scenery.” And most importantly - it was a hell of a quick way of pulling in loads of cash at a time. 

★— OFTEN FREQUENTING DINERS was indeed part of his usual pattern. It somewhat gave away the illusion of his persona, that he was at that moment, aiming to keep under wraps. But ever the creature of habit, he found himself returning to the places he sought comfort in; a sanctuary that smelled like bacon and freshly brewed coffee, filled with the idle chit-chat of the patrons and locals, a soft hum above them of the ceiling fan that in fact generated no air. It was decoration, really. It wouldn’t be a diner without those ceiling fans. — Those subtle details that made a home away from home. 

           ❛ It ain’t my first rodeo.  ❜ He replied, palm flattening over the napkin in front of him.  ❛ Never been the red carpet type - that’s Stark. Staying out of the limelight is something I ain’t got an issue in – but hiding like a rat – well, that’s just not something that’s POSSIBLE for me. So blending in, plain as day, is how I’ve gotta do it. What about yourself? S’pose hidin’ ain’t your strong suit…   ❜

          A devious smile began to form on the edges of her blue glossed lips. It was a thought that most people had. Emma Frost, the classiest and most beautiful billionaire in this god damn awful planet -- on the run?! Hell at first, the thought scared her as well. She couldn’t deny that she got quite comfortable being the Queen of the Mutants, a crown that she expects to retrieve soon when the stupidly good-hearted X-Men realize that Kitty Pryde is NOT fit to lead an entire race. However, she was not in any rush.

“ Well, that depends on who you ask darling. That waitress over there will tell you that she just talked to the world’s fattest man, which of course is not me, and with a seductively good looking lady. She will most definitely not tell you that she just talking to Captain America, a wanted terrorist whose twin destroyed the American Dream, and Emma Frost, the unfairly prosecuted mutant who saved her race from Inhuman extinction. ” 

 he’d been helping with the reconstruction efforts since it all began, from glossing over plans to hammering nails into support beams. this is home after all, the very place a wounded fifteen year old boy came to seek refuge. back then it wasn’t really a school and he was but one of five soldiers recruited for a war much bigger than any of them. if these walls could speak they’d tell his story as they’ve seen it unfold; lonely boy turned leader, child turned soldier, lover turned widower. he’s not the same boy and it’s not the same home but he’ll make it so just the same. no charles. now it’s up to him to create a home for kids like him.

 this time will be better, he promises. children won’t fight his war and they’ll never know the battlefield like he had. they’ll never know the loss that’s weighed on heavy shoulders which he had to endure. no, this would be a place to learn, to train their powers and grow comfortable in their own skin, to make a family for those who no longer have one. it’s almost ironic, he thinks. he needs the found family just as much as the kids he’s supposed to be teaching. jean…..going on without her seems near impossible. the mere thought of it makes him want to go back to work right away. anything to stop himself from remembering why she’s not around. 

he shakes his head, sighing in frustration and heading over to grab a drink of water. a hand raises to push sweat dampened hair from his eyes, peering down at emma as she sits in her chair. ❛ we can’t have that can we? ❜ he teases. ❛ lucky for you, my nails are run down enough for the both of us. ❜ he lifts a hand for show, sawdust and chalk caked around his fingers. 

          Her face scrunched at the state of Scott’s nails. Sometimes she wonders how in the world had they managed to get together. They were so different. She was like an exquisite mineralize water, while Scott was oil. Two different substances that weren't at any point expected to combine. But somehow, someway -- They made it work.

“ Scott dear, you do realize that there is a reason Warren and I are paying those laborers right? And it certainly wasn’t for our Fearless Leader to put those poor men to shame. ”

She rose from her seat, her blonde hair freely blowing out in the wind.Her lips framing a grin as she delicately put her glass of wine on the table alongside her. Emma’s feet moved towards Scott, her skin urging to touch his. It was practically juvenile how he affected her. She had a feeling that she return in first grade, feeling all warm and fluffy. 

          It was a wonderful Saturday morning,, the sun sparkling down on the streets of Los Angeles. People were laughing, skating, and taking selfies. The typical development that one would expect from a city like LA. In the middle of all the chaos, a stunningly beautiful woman walked through the commotion. Her hips swinging from side to side, her eyes covered with designers sunglasses. 

As she walked along, she touched base at a little-frozen yogurt truck adjacent to one of LA's most sultry shorelines. Just by the exterior, no one would have expected that see someone as snobby as Emma stepping foot in a place like this. And they would right. This place was so not her scene. But within all of the old, dried up, steel and that repulsive odor that she guessed came from the rotten corpse of a dead cat: this place was  -- great. Not that she would ever express such a thought out loud. This dainty, old ice cream truck was special. It had been Scott’s favorite and their regular stop whenever they were in LA for superhero business. This was now one of the only places that she had left that reminded her of him.

“It’s not that graphic,” Bobby mutters to himself. Not that he’d ever paid that relationship any mind in that context anyway. Emma was… well she didn’t interest him at all. And Scott was like a brother, so the idea had never, yep, and there it was. Gross. “Wow, way to be modest,” Bobby chastises lightly with a laugh. That being said however, the comment was much too full of herself for his liking. It was as if she’d thought that the earth literally revolved around her, and he really didn’t like that. “I think you just make them more expensive,” he quips back. “I mean you add value, appreciation, not depreciation.” That’s about as nice as he could get, while also making an accounting joke. “I miss the mansion, it was home,” he responds sombrely. “This is… this isn’t home.” 

       “We don’t exactly have off-days, we work whenever people need us. I thought you X-Men worked the same way.” Clint scratched the back of his head. The reason for him to come here didn’t matter anymore since Psylocke was clearly not here. “You make it sound like I’m not welcomed here, Ms. Frost. And here I believed an Avenger would get a full tour considering our teams are working together quite often.”