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WHO: Emma Frost & Scott Summers
WHEN: Sunday, June 1st, the day after the gala
WHERE: Xavier Institute, a staff sitting room
WHAT: Emma takes a quick peek in Scott's mind to make sure Madelyne didn't do any real damage at the gala.
WARNINGS: None but they are stupid.
There's a small sitting room reserved for staff in the residential part of the house, tucked back in a corner of the building that doesn't get good light because of a large tree right outside. It's generally not useful for much because of its size and dimness, which means it's almost always empty and the perfect place to gently dig through Scott's mind for signs of manipulation by Madelyne.
Emma has mostly been trying to avoid being around him alone and being in his mind, but this is serious enough to warrant the risk of private proximity. And sure, they've made out here before, but right now she's wearing slacks and a nice t-shirt that has a decent neckline and they've got work to do. This should all be fine, even with the door locked behind them.
She adjusts the chairs in the room so they're pointed directly at each other and relatively close before sitting down.
"Did it feel like she was anywhere in particular in your mind? I can start there first and fan out. I'll try not to dig too deep, though." They just need to get down to business.
Scott has resolved to act more normal, so he checks the window, ensuring that it's securely latched and nothing lurks outside that might disturb them. Not that he anticipates anything will happen here that would be worth spying on, but it soothes his nerves to rule out possible sources of distraction or danger. It's what he'd do normally.
"My surface thoughts, mostly." He begins to form an argument that this is unnecessary—he doesn't feel any different than usual, and Maddie would never actually hurt him, no matter how angry she is—but he discards it with a quiet sigh. Emma is right; even a small risk of psychic tampering is worth investigating.
Scott takes the seat opposite her. He's dressed for class, which means a wool blazer and extremely practical shoes. He's hungover but holds himself stiffly upright. All in all, he looks as unprovocative as Emma does. (He noticed that she's dressed down. It does little to diminish her beauty.)
Trying not to seem like she's intensely focused on Scott (she is), Emma lets out a slow breath as he sits down and glances off momentarily, considering his words. He's used to telepaths in his mind, so she trusts that he's more likely than most to notice if someone is digging too deeply. But he's right to not argue, because it is best to just be sure.
She turns her gaze back to him, taking in his clothes for a moment, his posture, the hint of a hangover she can see in the way he holds himself, before she lifts her hands. They stop midair though, hesitant. She doesn't need to touch him to do this, but she always finds it easier with contact, and with her own head aching a little she might need the help.
If he can be normal, she can too. Emma reaches out to gently cup Scott's face, shutting her eyes as her mind slowly starts to slip into his like it always used to whenever they were in the same room.
"That's a relief, at least. She was very untrained, so if she's done anything it should be obvious."
Scott closed his eyes the second her hands reached for his face. He still looks uncomfortable, his mouth still set in its customary frown, but he trusts Emma. There isn't any resistance to her touch, whether it's physical or psychic.
If Scott's mind was a house, it would be all minimalism and sharp angles, spotless and meticulously arranged—at least in the entrance hall. He spent years cultivating this level of focus and discipline, building directly upon the wreckage that was there before. For anyone else, this space might feel cold and impersonal, but for Emma, there are hints of affection. Vases full of white flowers, ornate mirrors, the lights tuned to a flattering glow.
There's also evidence of invasion, despite Scott's attempts to reassert control in the hours since the gala. Like a taped-over window, or an empty spot on a shelf where a plant pot was toppled and cleaned up. Madelyne Pryor's psychic imprint takes the form of scorch marks on the walls, radiating faint heat. (You forgot me. You forgot me. You forgot me.) Her rage weaves an obvious trail through the rooms, like she either didn't know or didn't care that she would be easy to follow. It's not immediately apparent if Scott gave Maddie free rein in his head, or if she was simply powerful enough to burn through any defenses.
« Sorry about the mess. » He doesn't really want Emma to see him in this state, but he keeps his doors open to her.
For a long moment Emma simply surveys the space, frowning at the state of it. It's not terrible but it's been touched, disrespected, and she doesn't like that someone else was in here messing it up. It's Scott's mind, but for a long time, even before they dated, it's been something of a home for her as well. It's impossible not to take offense at what's been done, and while Emma doesn't open her mind much to Scott at all, this impression is still apparent.
« You never have to apologize for anything in here. »
Tracing along the path of Maddie's mild destruction, testing the heat of the scorch as she moves and looking for signs of broken protections or anomalies, Emma gently rubs her thumb along Scott's cheek in the physical world. She thoughtlessly leans just a little closer too, protective, but manages to stop herself from pressing her forehead to his. She needs to focus.
« She'll be trouble when she's trained. I might be able to locate her with Cerebro now, though, since she likely doesn't know how to shield herself from it. »
« Right. Let's try it. » His eyelashes flicker when Emma inches closer, but Scott stays motionless in his seat. He can't really see his mind the way Emma does; he just knows he's hungover without any painkillers, reeling from seeing Maddie last night, and trying his best not to cross any lines with Emma while she's in his head. It's been a long time since he was this close to her, and a longer time since she touched him like this.
He needs to focus. « She doesn't want our help, but we can't leave her alone. She's going to get hurt. » A slight disturbance marks something he's keeping from Emma. From Maddie too—he let her into his head yesterday, but she could tell he still wasn't being open with her. She tore her way through Scott's conscious mind looking for it, and the further Emma traces her path, the worse the damage gets. Doors blasted off their hinges, torn-down picture frames, shattered light bulbs leaving rooms in shadow. Nothing that can't be fixed, but Madelyne's anger and Scott's natural tendency to blame himself is a noxious combination. Guilt and shame and remorse and misery, which Scott is already shoving down to somewhere he can't see.
Emma hates how the damage worsens and hates how thick the air feels with Maddie's rage and Scott's self-loathing, even as he works to repress. She wants to soothe him, press a kiss to his cheek and tell him that, even though he'd certainly handled everything with Madelyne badly, it's not all his fault. He isn't responsible for the life she was given. But all he gets is another gentle stroke of her thumb, a touch of mental reassurance, and her continued focus.
« Would you like me to dull your hangover? And you should be more worried about yourself. Having a powerful telepath this angry with you is less than ideal. We'll help her, but… » At the end of the day, Scott is obviously her priority. It doesn't need to be said.
As she rounds a corner, Emma can't help but pause to look at herself in a nearly shattered mirror. She's dressed in what she wore on their first date (unsurprising but a little painful), and she wonders how Madelyne saw herself here - was it through her own eyes, or Scott's? How did it feel, regardless, to know that she was looking at Jean? She lets out a huff of air, physically and mentally, to dismiss the pointless bit of near-pity and presses forward.
The trail leads to a reinforced steel door, locked tight—the only place in Scott's mind that he wouldn't let Maddie into. She didn't understand what she was looking at, but Emma does. It's everything he knows about his alternate reality.
Coming to a stop in front of this door, Emma is relieved to see that he'd kept her from things — it means it's unlikely she's done much more than the damage leading here. How she'd love to claw her way inside herself, though. This thought isn't quite shared with Scott, but the press of her hand to the door's surface communicates it in a vague sort of way.
It's enough for Scott to understand what she's found. He used every bit of his training to block Maddie from details of the Siege Perilous and the other Scott Summers, and with how much his head hurts, he wasn't sure if he succeeded. Emma's telepathic touch reassures him that his defenses are still intact. He exhales slowly.
« It's not even the first time this month a powerful telepath was pissed off at me. » He probably shouldn't be making jokes, but he can't bring himself to believe that Maddie would hurt him. Maybe it's naive, but they had loved each other once. He knows he couldn't ever harm her, if it came down to it.
(Jagged letters burned into the wall: I was never given a choice.)
Emma does not believe that Maddie wouldn't hurt him. But still, she can respond with some amusement in kind. « You certainly have a way with us, don't you darling? »
Madelyne's trail ends here—potent enough to leave her mark on Scott's mind, but not precise enough to break through the psychic shields he'd learned from both Emma Frost and Charles Xavier, despite all of the scorch marks around the door. In contrast, Emma's desire to see Scott's secrets is all it takes to form a key in her hand. He'd asked her not to look, but even with their breakup, he hasn't closed anything off to her.
The key is a surprise, somehow. Nothing has changed between them, really, except forced distance, but even so Emma finds Scott's willingness to be so open with her painful. She cannot and will not reciprocate, but she can still respect his previously requested boundaries. The key is dropped after a moment. Whatever is past that door doesn't really matter.
Instead, she busies herself with examining the surrounding scorch marks and comes back satisfied.
« You did very well; she made a bit of a mess but that's all. I can help clean up, if you'd like, but it's nothing you can't handle. And once all this business with the Kick investigation is resolved, I'll schedule some time in Cerebro to look for her. Or you could ask Charles, I suppose. »
That is probably the correct course of action since it's likely unwise to wait to find Madelyne, but Emma selfishly wants to do the work herself.
« I'll talk to him. » Scott is, above all else, practical. Maddie accused him of always choosing X-Men business over her, and the guilt has been eating him up, even if he sounds calm. Besides, whatever her origins, Maddie is a mutant in need now, and there's no one Scott would trust more with helping an errant telepath than Charles Xavier.
He's tempted to prolong the connection between himself and Emma, but she's right; nothing was done to him that he can't handle. « Thanks for checking things out. » He should let her go. They both have a lot to do, and they're both not performing at their best. Scott opens his eyes for the first time, seeing how close Emma is. « Can you really dull my hangover? »
Though Emma knows Scott has opened his eyes, she lingers a minute longer with hers shut and her hands holding his face. He's right to ask Charles for help. She was good to remind him of the option, and will take this extended contact as a reward.
They're both terribly pathetic. She quirks a smile despite her feelings.
« I can dull the pain some. The rest is entirely your problem. »
Finally, she opens her eyes, sits back, and pulls her hands into her lap to avoid tempting herself. Her mind remains in his for the moment like it used to, though, noticeably present but unobtrusive.
« I'm genuinely impressed at how much you drank. » There is no judgement in this statement.
« Someone told me to ask for the top shelf stuff. » It's comforting having Emma back in his head, even as Scott knows that it's only a matter of time before he has a thought he'll regret. Like the fact that he was drunk even before Madelyne showed up, because it seemed like the best way to stop himself from fixating on Emma and her auction date. He knows it's none of his business. He has no right to be jealous. It wouldn't have even bothered him before. It shouldn't bother him now, when he knows perfectly well that Emma doesn't care about Tony Stark. But if she wanted a distraction—
He sighs, the sound almost like a laugh, and presses his fingers to his temple in a vain attempt to ease his headache. "Help me, please?"
"Always."
As she speaks, Emma's smile at all of this shifts into something more difficult to read. She finds it irritating to feel so satisfied at the jealousy in his mind, but even so she drinks it in, allowing herself the comfort that comes from it. Logically she knows Scott is having a hard time with the break up, but solid proof of it is nicer than it should be. And, in a bit of selfishness, she's not going to do anything about easing his feelings towards Tony Stark.
She gets to her feet, smoothing her slacks before moving to stand behind him. Then, she pulls his hands away from his temples and presses her fingers there instead, mindful of his glasses. For a brief moment the pain intensifies (Is this on purpose? Who could say), but quickly this shifts into a gentle easing, a sort of redirect of his thoughts from the pain. It leaves it like a faint, muffled pressure, still there but with its teeth removed.
"Pain is a useful indicator so I don't want to do too much, but this should make today a little easier."
Scott grunts as she gets to work, but he's used to bearing pain without complaint. Normally, he would've denied Emma's offer to help—pain is a motivator, in addition to being a useful indicator. But she likes it when he asks for things, and he is pathetic enough to want to make her a little happy. God knows he hasn't been doing much of that lately.
And it really does help. He wants to touch her hand in thanks, or lean his head against her arm, but these are things he would've only done when they were together. Scott gently pulls away, and stands to face her. "Thank you."
As Scott considers additional contact Emma considers the same, thinking about draping herself over him, feeling touch starved even though she is not. She assumes Scott is, which draws up the feeling in her; she wants to give him this, much like he wants to make her happy. The more they interact, the more frustrated instead of upset she becomes with the situation.
Sometimes she wishes they were better at being unkind to each other, just until they figure out how to get through this.
Scott standing prompts Emma to pull her mind back from his slowly, hesitant to leave.
"Of course. I—" She stops herself and pulls in a breath that she lets out in a sharp sigh, and her slightly softened expression evens into something more distant. "If you need anything else, or something seems off in your mind, please let me know. Charles can help when I'm busy, obviously, but I'd like to be kept informed."
"Of course," Scott echoes. He watches Emma's face, and it pains him to realize that he's gotten better at reading her—even with her controlled response, even with her thoughts shut off from him. People are often a mystery to him, but she's shown him enough of her innermost self that there's no doubt in his mind how she feels. As excruciating as this is, he doesn't want to leave either. But he can't keep hurting her.
He squares his shoulders. "You'll be the first person I talk to." A silent apology lingers in Scott's thoughts as he turns away and goes.
WHEN: Sunday, June 1st, the day after the gala
WHERE: Xavier Institute, a staff sitting room
WHAT: Emma takes a quick peek in Scott's mind to make sure Madelyne didn't do any real damage at the gala.
WARNINGS: None but they are stupid.
There's a small sitting room reserved for staff in the residential part of the house, tucked back in a corner of the building that doesn't get good light because of a large tree right outside. It's generally not useful for much because of its size and dimness, which means it's almost always empty and the perfect place to gently dig through Scott's mind for signs of manipulation by Madelyne.
Emma has mostly been trying to avoid being around him alone and being in his mind, but this is serious enough to warrant the risk of private proximity. And sure, they've made out here before, but right now she's wearing slacks and a nice t-shirt that has a decent neckline and they've got work to do. This should all be fine, even with the door locked behind them.
She adjusts the chairs in the room so they're pointed directly at each other and relatively close before sitting down.
"Did it feel like she was anywhere in particular in your mind? I can start there first and fan out. I'll try not to dig too deep, though." They just need to get down to business.
Scott has resolved to act more normal, so he checks the window, ensuring that it's securely latched and nothing lurks outside that might disturb them. Not that he anticipates anything will happen here that would be worth spying on, but it soothes his nerves to rule out possible sources of distraction or danger. It's what he'd do normally.
"My surface thoughts, mostly." He begins to form an argument that this is unnecessary—he doesn't feel any different than usual, and Maddie would never actually hurt him, no matter how angry she is—but he discards it with a quiet sigh. Emma is right; even a small risk of psychic tampering is worth investigating.
Scott takes the seat opposite her. He's dressed for class, which means a wool blazer and extremely practical shoes. He's hungover but holds himself stiffly upright. All in all, he looks as unprovocative as Emma does. (He noticed that she's dressed down. It does little to diminish her beauty.)
Trying not to seem like she's intensely focused on Scott (she is), Emma lets out a slow breath as he sits down and glances off momentarily, considering his words. He's used to telepaths in his mind, so she trusts that he's more likely than most to notice if someone is digging too deeply. But he's right to not argue, because it is best to just be sure.
She turns her gaze back to him, taking in his clothes for a moment, his posture, the hint of a hangover she can see in the way he holds himself, before she lifts her hands. They stop midair though, hesitant. She doesn't need to touch him to do this, but she always finds it easier with contact, and with her own head aching a little she might need the help.
If he can be normal, she can too. Emma reaches out to gently cup Scott's face, shutting her eyes as her mind slowly starts to slip into his like it always used to whenever they were in the same room.
"That's a relief, at least. She was very untrained, so if she's done anything it should be obvious."
Scott closed his eyes the second her hands reached for his face. He still looks uncomfortable, his mouth still set in its customary frown, but he trusts Emma. There isn't any resistance to her touch, whether it's physical or psychic.
If Scott's mind was a house, it would be all minimalism and sharp angles, spotless and meticulously arranged—at least in the entrance hall. He spent years cultivating this level of focus and discipline, building directly upon the wreckage that was there before. For anyone else, this space might feel cold and impersonal, but for Emma, there are hints of affection. Vases full of white flowers, ornate mirrors, the lights tuned to a flattering glow.
There's also evidence of invasion, despite Scott's attempts to reassert control in the hours since the gala. Like a taped-over window, or an empty spot on a shelf where a plant pot was toppled and cleaned up. Madelyne Pryor's psychic imprint takes the form of scorch marks on the walls, radiating faint heat. (You forgot me. You forgot me. You forgot me.) Her rage weaves an obvious trail through the rooms, like she either didn't know or didn't care that she would be easy to follow. It's not immediately apparent if Scott gave Maddie free rein in his head, or if she was simply powerful enough to burn through any defenses.
« Sorry about the mess. » He doesn't really want Emma to see him in this state, but he keeps his doors open to her.
For a long moment Emma simply surveys the space, frowning at the state of it. It's not terrible but it's been touched, disrespected, and she doesn't like that someone else was in here messing it up. It's Scott's mind, but for a long time, even before they dated, it's been something of a home for her as well. It's impossible not to take offense at what's been done, and while Emma doesn't open her mind much to Scott at all, this impression is still apparent.
« You never have to apologize for anything in here. »
Tracing along the path of Maddie's mild destruction, testing the heat of the scorch as she moves and looking for signs of broken protections or anomalies, Emma gently rubs her thumb along Scott's cheek in the physical world. She thoughtlessly leans just a little closer too, protective, but manages to stop herself from pressing her forehead to his. She needs to focus.
« She'll be trouble when she's trained. I might be able to locate her with Cerebro now, though, since she likely doesn't know how to shield herself from it. »
« Right. Let's try it. » His eyelashes flicker when Emma inches closer, but Scott stays motionless in his seat. He can't really see his mind the way Emma does; he just knows he's hungover without any painkillers, reeling from seeing Maddie last night, and trying his best not to cross any lines with Emma while she's in his head. It's been a long time since he was this close to her, and a longer time since she touched him like this.
He needs to focus. « She doesn't want our help, but we can't leave her alone. She's going to get hurt. » A slight disturbance marks something he's keeping from Emma. From Maddie too—he let her into his head yesterday, but she could tell he still wasn't being open with her. She tore her way through Scott's conscious mind looking for it, and the further Emma traces her path, the worse the damage gets. Doors blasted off their hinges, torn-down picture frames, shattered light bulbs leaving rooms in shadow. Nothing that can't be fixed, but Madelyne's anger and Scott's natural tendency to blame himself is a noxious combination. Guilt and shame and remorse and misery, which Scott is already shoving down to somewhere he can't see.
Emma hates how the damage worsens and hates how thick the air feels with Maddie's rage and Scott's self-loathing, even as he works to repress. She wants to soothe him, press a kiss to his cheek and tell him that, even though he'd certainly handled everything with Madelyne badly, it's not all his fault. He isn't responsible for the life she was given. But all he gets is another gentle stroke of her thumb, a touch of mental reassurance, and her continued focus.
« Would you like me to dull your hangover? And you should be more worried about yourself. Having a powerful telepath this angry with you is less than ideal. We'll help her, but… » At the end of the day, Scott is obviously her priority. It doesn't need to be said.
As she rounds a corner, Emma can't help but pause to look at herself in a nearly shattered mirror. She's dressed in what she wore on their first date (unsurprising but a little painful), and she wonders how Madelyne saw herself here - was it through her own eyes, or Scott's? How did it feel, regardless, to know that she was looking at Jean? She lets out a huff of air, physically and mentally, to dismiss the pointless bit of near-pity and presses forward.
The trail leads to a reinforced steel door, locked tight—the only place in Scott's mind that he wouldn't let Maddie into. She didn't understand what she was looking at, but Emma does. It's everything he knows about his alternate reality.
Coming to a stop in front of this door, Emma is relieved to see that he'd kept her from things — it means it's unlikely she's done much more than the damage leading here. How she'd love to claw her way inside herself, though. This thought isn't quite shared with Scott, but the press of her hand to the door's surface communicates it in a vague sort of way.
It's enough for Scott to understand what she's found. He used every bit of his training to block Maddie from details of the Siege Perilous and the other Scott Summers, and with how much his head hurts, he wasn't sure if he succeeded. Emma's telepathic touch reassures him that his defenses are still intact. He exhales slowly.
« It's not even the first time this month a powerful telepath was pissed off at me. » He probably shouldn't be making jokes, but he can't bring himself to believe that Maddie would hurt him. Maybe it's naive, but they had loved each other once. He knows he couldn't ever harm her, if it came down to it.
(Jagged letters burned into the wall: I was never given a choice.)
Emma does not believe that Maddie wouldn't hurt him. But still, she can respond with some amusement in kind. « You certainly have a way with us, don't you darling? »
Madelyne's trail ends here—potent enough to leave her mark on Scott's mind, but not precise enough to break through the psychic shields he'd learned from both Emma Frost and Charles Xavier, despite all of the scorch marks around the door. In contrast, Emma's desire to see Scott's secrets is all it takes to form a key in her hand. He'd asked her not to look, but even with their breakup, he hasn't closed anything off to her.
The key is a surprise, somehow. Nothing has changed between them, really, except forced distance, but even so Emma finds Scott's willingness to be so open with her painful. She cannot and will not reciprocate, but she can still respect his previously requested boundaries. The key is dropped after a moment. Whatever is past that door doesn't really matter.
Instead, she busies herself with examining the surrounding scorch marks and comes back satisfied.
« You did very well; she made a bit of a mess but that's all. I can help clean up, if you'd like, but it's nothing you can't handle. And once all this business with the Kick investigation is resolved, I'll schedule some time in Cerebro to look for her. Or you could ask Charles, I suppose. »
That is probably the correct course of action since it's likely unwise to wait to find Madelyne, but Emma selfishly wants to do the work herself.
« I'll talk to him. » Scott is, above all else, practical. Maddie accused him of always choosing X-Men business over her, and the guilt has been eating him up, even if he sounds calm. Besides, whatever her origins, Maddie is a mutant in need now, and there's no one Scott would trust more with helping an errant telepath than Charles Xavier.
He's tempted to prolong the connection between himself and Emma, but she's right; nothing was done to him that he can't handle. « Thanks for checking things out. » He should let her go. They both have a lot to do, and they're both not performing at their best. Scott opens his eyes for the first time, seeing how close Emma is. « Can you really dull my hangover? »
Though Emma knows Scott has opened his eyes, she lingers a minute longer with hers shut and her hands holding his face. He's right to ask Charles for help. She was good to remind him of the option, and will take this extended contact as a reward.
They're both terribly pathetic. She quirks a smile despite her feelings.
« I can dull the pain some. The rest is entirely your problem. »
Finally, she opens her eyes, sits back, and pulls her hands into her lap to avoid tempting herself. Her mind remains in his for the moment like it used to, though, noticeably present but unobtrusive.
« I'm genuinely impressed at how much you drank. » There is no judgement in this statement.
« Someone told me to ask for the top shelf stuff. » It's comforting having Emma back in his head, even as Scott knows that it's only a matter of time before he has a thought he'll regret. Like the fact that he was drunk even before Madelyne showed up, because it seemed like the best way to stop himself from fixating on Emma and her auction date. He knows it's none of his business. He has no right to be jealous. It wouldn't have even bothered him before. It shouldn't bother him now, when he knows perfectly well that Emma doesn't care about Tony Stark. But if she wanted a distraction—
He sighs, the sound almost like a laugh, and presses his fingers to his temple in a vain attempt to ease his headache. "Help me, please?"
"Always."
As she speaks, Emma's smile at all of this shifts into something more difficult to read. She finds it irritating to feel so satisfied at the jealousy in his mind, but even so she drinks it in, allowing herself the comfort that comes from it. Logically she knows Scott is having a hard time with the break up, but solid proof of it is nicer than it should be. And, in a bit of selfishness, she's not going to do anything about easing his feelings towards Tony Stark.
She gets to her feet, smoothing her slacks before moving to stand behind him. Then, she pulls his hands away from his temples and presses her fingers there instead, mindful of his glasses. For a brief moment the pain intensifies (Is this on purpose? Who could say), but quickly this shifts into a gentle easing, a sort of redirect of his thoughts from the pain. It leaves it like a faint, muffled pressure, still there but with its teeth removed.
"Pain is a useful indicator so I don't want to do too much, but this should make today a little easier."
Scott grunts as she gets to work, but he's used to bearing pain without complaint. Normally, he would've denied Emma's offer to help—pain is a motivator, in addition to being a useful indicator. But she likes it when he asks for things, and he is pathetic enough to want to make her a little happy. God knows he hasn't been doing much of that lately.
And it really does help. He wants to touch her hand in thanks, or lean his head against her arm, but these are things he would've only done when they were together. Scott gently pulls away, and stands to face her. "Thank you."
As Scott considers additional contact Emma considers the same, thinking about draping herself over him, feeling touch starved even though she is not. She assumes Scott is, which draws up the feeling in her; she wants to give him this, much like he wants to make her happy. The more they interact, the more frustrated instead of upset she becomes with the situation.
Sometimes she wishes they were better at being unkind to each other, just until they figure out how to get through this.
Scott standing prompts Emma to pull her mind back from his slowly, hesitant to leave.
"Of course. I—" She stops herself and pulls in a breath that she lets out in a sharp sigh, and her slightly softened expression evens into something more distant. "If you need anything else, or something seems off in your mind, please let me know. Charles can help when I'm busy, obviously, but I'd like to be kept informed."
"Of course," Scott echoes. He watches Emma's face, and it pains him to realize that he's gotten better at reading her—even with her controlled response, even with her thoughts shut off from him. People are often a mystery to him, but she's shown him enough of her innermost self that there's no doubt in his mind how she feels. As excruciating as this is, he doesn't want to leave either. But he can't keep hurting her.
He squares his shoulders. "You'll be the first person I talk to." A silent apology lingers in Scott's thoughts as he turns away and goes.