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WHO: Emma Frost & Scott Summers
WHEN: Feb 2nd, 2025
WHERE: Xavier Institute
WHAT: Emma brings Scott the classroom posters she promised, and then have a nice chat while they hang them up.
WARNINGS: A bit of Scott's bad brain. (Librarian memory is borrowed from X-Men: Marvels Snapshots #1.)
Emma likes to be true to her word, particularly when doing so leads directly to her own amusement, so after classes have let out for the day she makes her way to Scott's office with a carafe of wine, two glasses, and a tube containing six posters. It's impossible for her to push down her amused smile as she knocks on his door, tube tucked precariously under one arm as she holds the carafe and glasses in the other.
"Scott, darling, a little help, I don't want to drop the wine," she calls through the door, readjusting her grip on things. The wine might be a little much, but she wants a drink with her show.
Scott is out of his chair at the words a little help, opening the door and taking the largest object—a tube—from Emma's hold without thinking twice. His movements slow as he properly takes in Emma's other belongings, and the tail end of her statement.
"Why do you have wine?" As if he's never seen Emma with wine before. But Scott is so strict about his conduct as a teacher that he rarely has a drink on school grounds anymore. He won't even use swear words while inside his office, even when a student isn't present.
Even without seeing him, Emma knows that Scott is on his feet quickly - his willingness to help is always endearing. She smiles as the door opens, allowing him to take the tube without any fuss as she adjusts the glasses into her now free hand. As she moves into the office she looks around, taking it in; "serial killer bare" is right. The door is shut behind her with a tap of her hip.
"To amuse myself while you put those up, since I assume my assistance won't be required. And, ideally, I can tempt you into a bit of fun as well."
"I'm working, Emma." His laptop is open to old mission records, with the latest one dating to 2020, when they confronted Reverend Stryker. A mostly empty notepad suggests he's struggling to find anything in their history that might link to their current situation.
Scott glances at the closed office door (why does this feel illicit?) before he follows Emma in. He pulls open the tube and shakes out the posters, laying them out flat on his desk—easy to do, when Scott also keeps his desk bare of any extraneous items. Nothing shows on his face as he looks over the encouraging baby animals, but his mind is open. Good paper. All the same size. Student-appropriate messaging. Amateur typography. Sometimes Emma gets the exact same look as this kitten and he feels like the ball of yarn.
"A little bit of wine loosens up your thoughts. Makes you more creative and thus better at problem solving," Emma counters, moving around to look at Scott's laptop even though she doesn't need to, eyes scanning over the contents of both the screen and the notepad. The lack of notes aren't unexpected, but they are a disappointment.
As Scott goes to unroll the posters Emma breezes past his thoughts about the shut door, setting the carafe and glasses on a nearby table and pouring herself a glass. The other glass receives a small splash of wine. Just in case. And then she goes to join her companion, smile still readily apparent. She couldn't argue her comparison to a cat.
"I hate how thoughtful I was about choosing these." This is accompanied by a sigh and sip of wine.
Scott doesn't laugh, but there's a flicker of amusement in his thoughts. "They're definitely what you said they would be," he says dryly. He turns the posters on his desk so they're all right side up, silently calculating all possible arrangements for these six posters on his four blank walls. He should think about professional video calls. An empty wall behind him is better, so maybe just three walls? Would the impact be increased or lessened if all six were hung together, gallery-style?
He has no idea. He's always been better with practical considerations than aesthetics. Briefly, he considers if there's merit to drinking wine for creativity and problem solving, and dismisses it. "I like this one." Scott touches the poster with the kitten playing with the ball of yarn. "If you're looking up at it, it means you've lost focus. Good reminder." It should go opposite his desk.
Emma watches him align the posters methodically, taking in the calculations and glancing around the room with him, piggybacking off his knowledge to get some ideas of her own. While she's not about to force Scott's hand with placement, she can help him if he's floundering. Or, she supposes, she could just draw this out by letting him fuss and get a little more time to relax in his office. Decisions.
She hums, quiet, thoughtful, and a little warm that he likes the poster that made him think of her. Thank god no one can read her mind; she's horribly embarrassing. With a little huff of air, almost too quiet to even hear, she refocuses - wine. Even the slight thought of it in Scott's mind has Emma offering her glass to him without looking up. It's a lower investment than him having his own, she figures, so she might be a little more successful.
"A succinct poster is good," she agrees with another little hum, her eyes and then fingers wandering over to the dalmatian. "I think the children will find this one the funniest, if that informs its placement for you at all."
When Emma holds out her glass, Scott takes it instinctively, on the assumption that she's just tired of carrying it and his hand was somehow more convenient than placing it on his desk. He makes no move to either drink or put it down. She has to stifle a laugh immediately, which her now free hand goes to do.
"North wall," he says, his thoughts indicating that it's the one perpendicular to the door. "It's the first one students see when they enter my office." He stares at the other options with all the grimness of a general reviewing battle maps. They'll want to pair the dalmatian with a simpler design. The hanging kitten. Dual reminders to stay in the fight, and try bold plans even when you think they might fail.
It is incredibly hard to keep pressing down her laughter. It is not mocking Scott - Emma knows who he is, none of this is surprising - but it's all so incredibly endearing despite its absurdity on the surface. He takes this seriously because in some ways, it is. It's how the students perceive him. His office and that perception, how they help him connect with them, matter. All she wants to do is lean into his space under the guise of gesturing at posters that are easily within reach, to force him to think about her again, to be just a little bit closer to him.
Regrettably, she has self-control and simply nods, approving of his mental plan. "The other three work together perfectly, so I think you have your design, Mr. Summers." Really, it will be charming.
"I think coming up with a plan deserves a little reward." Emma reaches over to gently try to ease the wine glass up to Scott's lips.
It gets up to his chin before Scott realizes what's happening and finally stops staring at the posters. Emma looks—happy. She's always beautiful, always impeccably put together from head to toe, but he likes how she looks when she laughs. It's usually the others, not Scott, who inspire it in her.
"Emma," he says, too soft to sound disapproving. "Scott," is echoed back at him. No one likes how he is about rules. It's ridiculous that he's so rigid even when it's rules he created for himself. But if Scott lets one thing go, then that's a step closer to letting everything go, and he can't afford that. Every time he makes a mistake—and he's made so many mistakes—
Losing focus. Scott forcibly directs his mind back on track. "Let's put these up." He sets the wine glass in front of Emma, and goes to retrieve the stepladder he put aside for this already. He'd started preparing the morning after Emma threatened to plaster his office with kitten posters.
For a brief moment there had been a glimmer in Emma's mind about making some sort of move, encouraged by his thoughts, but that quickly dissipates as Scott spirals and then redirects.
« Being perfect is an impossible goal, Scott - stop putting that on yourself. You're too good to be thinking the way you do. »
Emma eyes the glass of wine but doesn't pick it up again, smoothing over her expression.
"Ah, do I get to assist? I'm honored. I promise to take direction well, just this once."
She is selfishly soft with him, worried about driving a wedge between them if she ever pushes too hard. It's unfair to Scott, but she's not ready to change just yet. Maybe she needs to work harder on getting over this crush.
Scott lets Emma's psychic message pass through him without comment. Feeling it, weighing its intent, and filing it away in the archive of his mind like he does with everything people say about him, good or bad. It's difficult for Scott to relax, but he exhales and lets his shoulders loosen, not putting anything more on himself than Emma would expect. It's something for her - the smallest of victories that she'll take.
"Nothing strenuous. Just hand me the posters when it's time." He places the stepladder at the center of the north wall, and moves to his desk to gather supplies: painter's tape, paper clips, magnets, a yardstick and a level tool, even though his powers allow him to calculate precise angles by sight. He spent time planning out the least permanent way to hang posters, and decided on jumbo paper clips secured with tape, to give the magnets something to stick to. In typical Summers overcompensation, he has enough magnets in his desk for twenty posters.
(All of this is free ammunition if Magneto ever attacks the school, but Scott is trusting that the man he's gotten to know at Genosha would never. It's what Kurt would want.)
"Thank you." Scott isn't looking at her, instead focused on cutting multiple pieces of tape to exactly the same length. "For livening up my office."
Emma abandons her glass of wine, shifting instead to watch Scott as he prepares. She had considered bringing things - tape, a laser level - but figured he'd already have it covered. It's good to see that she wasn't wrong. It's almost meditative to watch him cut the tape so precisely, and she tries to focus on that instead of her worries. It's mostly successful, but there remains an uncomfortable stone in the pit of her stomach.
"Of course. You know how I love to help you out." She's quiet for a moment following this, but the silence feels stifling. It's annoying how quick the energy of the room has changed. She shouldn't have tried to get him to loosen up, at least not with wine.
"My favorite teacher in middle school had posters like this. I thought they were stupid but oddly comforting." As she says this she smooths her hand over the dalmatian poster, easing some of the curl out of it. "You'll have to tell me everything the children have to say about them."
"I'll keep notes." Repetitive tasks help turn the volume down in his head. Scott can still feel Emma curled up in his mind, but it's comforting rather than intrusive as he rebuilds his walls and clears out mental debris. There's a thread of guilt that's hard to pull—the knowledge of how standoffish he is, the suspicion that anyone else in this school would make better company.
He puts that thought in a box, and refocuses his attention on Emma. He tries to imagine her as a girl, looking up at these posters with her piercing blue eyes. "Your favorite teacher… Why did you like them?"
There is a gentle smoothing over of Scott's guilt - as much of it, anyways, as Emma can get to before he tucks it away. She continues not to push, instead momentarily providing him with a picture of herself at 11, a relatively serious looking child in a perfectly pressed school uniform with perfectly managed hair. As Emma speaks, Scott holds the image in his mind, memorizing it with the same meticulousness which he applies to road maps and contingency plans.
"He was absolutely ancient and wonderfully soft-spoken, like what you'd want a grandfather to be, and he was sharp and witty. Terribly thoughtful, too. He always looked out for me."
There's something nice about telling him this. Much like her companion Emma is not always quite so open about herself, though she'd argue her way of being guarded has much more finesse than Scott's.
"And, I know this will come as a horrible shock, but I was a little difficult. He was never unkind about it, though."
Scott climbs the ladder and uses a yardstick to check the distances he'd already calculated with his brain. He smiles at the wall, thinking about how clever and cutting Emma can be, and how quick his own students are with offhand insults. "Difficult how?"
After finding herself content with her efforts to flatten the posters, Emma turns to watch Scott and half sits on his desk, focusing on him and not her earlier misstep. There are ample things to distract her. Though there's a desire to make fun of him for double-checking how he'll hang cute animal posters, she holds her tongue on that matter.
"I was obstinate and argumentative. I hadn't embraced diplomacy yet." Which is no surprise - she was a child, after all, and so there is no judgement of herself in her voice. Emma reaches for her wine glass, taking a sip as she searches Scott's mind gently but not covertly for whatever bright spots of his youth he's willing to share.
"And I was horribly cutthroat with my classmates, which didn't always go over well."
Scott reforms his image of her based on new information—the Emma he knows who is charming and generous and ruthless, and the child who hadn't yet learned what parts to show and what to hide. She sounds like she must have been lonely. Loneliness, he recognizes.
Warnings divide Scott's active mind from his oldest memories, like caution tape around an abandoned crime scene. He doesn't go here, if he can help it. Beyond his hard-won control lies dark corners and blasted out walls and holes he might never climb out of. Years and years of amnesia, blackouts and psychic manipulation. Foreign footprints—Xavier—trace a path through the wreckage. Emma is sure to be ginger as she examines things here, wanting to be mindful both of the importance of this being cordoned off and that Scott is willing to let her in. She doesn't stray, as tempting as it is.
One memory, dusted off and signposted: a white-haired librarian who didn't laugh when a young boy said he needed to study what to do in every possible crisis. The stack of books in his arms covered auto repair, sewing, celestial navigation, and disease control. Pulling a slim red hardcover from the shelf, the librarian said, If I wanted to learn to think like a tactician, I'd start here.
"When did that change?" He tapes paper clips to the wall, at the exact points where the magnets will sit at the far corners of the poster but any tape will be hidden. "Was your teacher an influence at all?"
Scott's memory is nice and a little sad, like she finds many things in his mind, but it pulls a smile out of her as her eyes remain focused on his methodical work. She sets down her glass, preparing to do her permitted job of handing him a poster when he's ready.
"It's good to feel at least a little understood, isn't it?" This applies to both of them and their childhood benefactors. "I think he helped me be less angry, which was some of it. Some of it was just growing up a bit. Some of it was the Hellfire Club, honestly. I had to learn how to handle myself there quickly."
Scott has a vague sense of what a young Emma was angry about, from hints collected over the years. It's not something he'd prod at without reason, but he likes listening to her talk about herself. The peace of this moment, the sharing of little details, is a rare gift. It's good to feel at least a little understood, isn't it? He's made himself an open book to her, and rarely thinks about how unequal it is that Emma must know more about him than he knows about her. Maybe he should've asked before now. But Scott knows what an enormous privilege it is, to be trusted with someone's history.
He holds a hand out to her. "Dalmatian, please." A pause, and also: "What was the Hellfire Club like?"
Emma pushes herself off the desk, picking up the poster and delivering it to Scott with overdramatic reverence. They are christening his office with fun, a sentiment she sends over to him with amusement and gentle jest. Scott returns an image of himself striking through fun with a red pen, and writing motivation instead.
She has to think a little on his question, though, trying to sort through all the complicated feelings around it. The tiniest bit of this is projected into Scott's mind, an acknowledgement of his thoughts on their unequal sharing even though she doesn't mind knowing more than she shares.
"It had some of the same complications as home - people vying for influence and power, all sorts of subtle little in-fighting and posturing. But they took decent care of me, and they served their purpose. I learned a lot there, and I had the opportunity to figure out how to use everything I'd learned from my father in an environment where I wasn't trying to push back against him. I'd be more grateful for it if Jason wasn't such an annoying creature."
The paint-splattered dalmatian poster goes up, four round magnets softly clicking on each corner. Scott's measurements were precise. He turns back to Emma, silently asking for the "hang in there" kitten next.
"How did they react when you left?" People who only care for power couldn't have taken well to losing one of their resources, especially if this was a telepath as talented as Emma. Scott often wonders if the people behind the Essex House were angry that he ran away and ended up under Xavier's protection. The lack of answers there still frustrates him. "Is Wyngarde still with the Hellfire Club?"
Emma goes to retrieve the next poster, humming and waiting to reply before she's back and offering it to Scott. He takes it with all the care normally reserved for handling priceless artwork.
"Oh, they were very unhappy. Jason, mostly, since I was meant to be his ticket to a higher status, but no one was overly pleased - they'd invested in me for a year and I just skipped out. But they never tried to do much about it, I assume because messing with Charles wasn't worth it." A one shouldered shrug. "Jason's still there, right where I left him."
She's quiet for a moment as she thinks over her companion's thoughts a bit more, frowning only the tiniest amount. "Do you know if Charles has done much more in trying to find out what was going on there?"
Another pause, as Scott busies himself with hanging the poster. "As far as I know, the home was shut down a year after I ran away. Following the paper trail only led to dead ends." Discomfort ripples through his mind, quickly suppressed. He knows what Emma is really referring to here. The last time Professor Xavier dug deep in Scott's memories, he was eighteen. They'd only done a couple of sessions before Scott refused to continue. It wasn't worth compromising his present performance to resolve his past.
Emma does not comment or press on the discomfort, and of course doesn't press on Xavier digging around in his mind. Maybe someday, when she's a little less tentative with him and they're a little less caught up in other problems, she can convince him to work through those things. For now, though, she'll let it lie. Mostly. "If you ever want me to use any of my contacts to try to track something down, you only need to ask."
The only acknowledgement is a flicker of thanks in Scott's mind, as he makes minute adjustments to the posters so they're perfectly aligned with each other. "Do you think the Hellfire Club still wants you back?"
"I'd be surprised if they didn't. They'd really have to have something on me to achieve that, though." It's hard to imagine what that would be, and unlike Scott she doesn't spend her time trying to think up worst case scenarios.
Instead, she'd rather think about this current task of theirs. Emma takes a step back to examine the presentation of the two posters, noting how they look in the room at large. Stupid and perfect. It brings her a surprising amount of joy. "No one there would let me bring them motivational posters. I'd be so unhappy."
"Their loss." Scott jumps down from the ladder and stands shoulder-to-shoulder with her, looking up at their work. Stupid and perfect is right. (It distracts him from the note he's just added to his mental ledger: Protocol - Hellfire Club, Jason Wyngarde.)
They have four more posters to deal with, but he lingers here instead, enjoying Emma's proximity and the quiet of the evening. He's been working away in his office long enough that most of the other teachers have vacated theirs. "Everyone else will want kitten posters once they see mine," he says.
As Scott stands next to her Emma smiles, amused and content, dismissing his concerns about the Hellfire Club and Jason Wyngarde from her own mind. Everything has evened out nicely from the slight misstep earlier, and she has no interest in disrupting this quiet. This is better than silliness and wine anyways. With a hum, she shifts to gently bump her shoulder against his.
"You'll be the envy of all the other teachers until they can sort out their own posters. But even then, there's no way they can match my selections."
Flattering to think Emma wouldn't do this for anyone else—and ridiculous, when the favor in question is animal posters with inspirational taglines, but even Scott isn't immune to Emma's generosity. It's easier, somehow, to accept gifts from her than anyone else. Maybe because he can see it's not pity, just the least complicated way for her to express care for them. Maybe because she lavishes so much on all of them that it doesn't feel like being singled out.
(Something shifts in his mind at the idea of Emma giving him special attention, but is swiftly repressed again.)
"Come on." Scott nudges her shoulder, and grabs the ladder. "Let's put up the rest of them."
WHEN: Feb 2nd, 2025
WHERE: Xavier Institute
WHAT: Emma brings Scott the classroom posters she promised, and then have a nice chat while they hang them up.
WARNINGS: A bit of Scott's bad brain. (Librarian memory is borrowed from X-Men: Marvels Snapshots #1.)
Emma likes to be true to her word, particularly when doing so leads directly to her own amusement, so after classes have let out for the day she makes her way to Scott's office with a carafe of wine, two glasses, and a tube containing six posters. It's impossible for her to push down her amused smile as she knocks on his door, tube tucked precariously under one arm as she holds the carafe and glasses in the other.
"Scott, darling, a little help, I don't want to drop the wine," she calls through the door, readjusting her grip on things. The wine might be a little much, but she wants a drink with her show.
Scott is out of his chair at the words a little help, opening the door and taking the largest object—a tube—from Emma's hold without thinking twice. His movements slow as he properly takes in Emma's other belongings, and the tail end of her statement.
"Why do you have wine?" As if he's never seen Emma with wine before. But Scott is so strict about his conduct as a teacher that he rarely has a drink on school grounds anymore. He won't even use swear words while inside his office, even when a student isn't present.
Even without seeing him, Emma knows that Scott is on his feet quickly - his willingness to help is always endearing. She smiles as the door opens, allowing him to take the tube without any fuss as she adjusts the glasses into her now free hand. As she moves into the office she looks around, taking it in; "serial killer bare" is right. The door is shut behind her with a tap of her hip.
"To amuse myself while you put those up, since I assume my assistance won't be required. And, ideally, I can tempt you into a bit of fun as well."
"I'm working, Emma." His laptop is open to old mission records, with the latest one dating to 2020, when they confronted Reverend Stryker. A mostly empty notepad suggests he's struggling to find anything in their history that might link to their current situation.
Scott glances at the closed office door (why does this feel illicit?) before he follows Emma in. He pulls open the tube and shakes out the posters, laying them out flat on his desk—easy to do, when Scott also keeps his desk bare of any extraneous items. Nothing shows on his face as he looks over the encouraging baby animals, but his mind is open. Good paper. All the same size. Student-appropriate messaging. Amateur typography. Sometimes Emma gets the exact same look as this kitten and he feels like the ball of yarn.
"A little bit of wine loosens up your thoughts. Makes you more creative and thus better at problem solving," Emma counters, moving around to look at Scott's laptop even though she doesn't need to, eyes scanning over the contents of both the screen and the notepad. The lack of notes aren't unexpected, but they are a disappointment.
As Scott goes to unroll the posters Emma breezes past his thoughts about the shut door, setting the carafe and glasses on a nearby table and pouring herself a glass. The other glass receives a small splash of wine. Just in case. And then she goes to join her companion, smile still readily apparent. She couldn't argue her comparison to a cat.
"I hate how thoughtful I was about choosing these." This is accompanied by a sigh and sip of wine.
Scott doesn't laugh, but there's a flicker of amusement in his thoughts. "They're definitely what you said they would be," he says dryly. He turns the posters on his desk so they're all right side up, silently calculating all possible arrangements for these six posters on his four blank walls. He should think about professional video calls. An empty wall behind him is better, so maybe just three walls? Would the impact be increased or lessened if all six were hung together, gallery-style?
He has no idea. He's always been better with practical considerations than aesthetics. Briefly, he considers if there's merit to drinking wine for creativity and problem solving, and dismisses it. "I like this one." Scott touches the poster with the kitten playing with the ball of yarn. "If you're looking up at it, it means you've lost focus. Good reminder." It should go opposite his desk.
Emma watches him align the posters methodically, taking in the calculations and glancing around the room with him, piggybacking off his knowledge to get some ideas of her own. While she's not about to force Scott's hand with placement, she can help him if he's floundering. Or, she supposes, she could just draw this out by letting him fuss and get a little more time to relax in his office. Decisions.
She hums, quiet, thoughtful, and a little warm that he likes the poster that made him think of her. Thank god no one can read her mind; she's horribly embarrassing. With a little huff of air, almost too quiet to even hear, she refocuses - wine. Even the slight thought of it in Scott's mind has Emma offering her glass to him without looking up. It's a lower investment than him having his own, she figures, so she might be a little more successful.
"A succinct poster is good," she agrees with another little hum, her eyes and then fingers wandering over to the dalmatian. "I think the children will find this one the funniest, if that informs its placement for you at all."
When Emma holds out her glass, Scott takes it instinctively, on the assumption that she's just tired of carrying it and his hand was somehow more convenient than placing it on his desk. He makes no move to either drink or put it down. She has to stifle a laugh immediately, which her now free hand goes to do.
"North wall," he says, his thoughts indicating that it's the one perpendicular to the door. "It's the first one students see when they enter my office." He stares at the other options with all the grimness of a general reviewing battle maps. They'll want to pair the dalmatian with a simpler design. The hanging kitten. Dual reminders to stay in the fight, and try bold plans even when you think they might fail.
It is incredibly hard to keep pressing down her laughter. It is not mocking Scott - Emma knows who he is, none of this is surprising - but it's all so incredibly endearing despite its absurdity on the surface. He takes this seriously because in some ways, it is. It's how the students perceive him. His office and that perception, how they help him connect with them, matter. All she wants to do is lean into his space under the guise of gesturing at posters that are easily within reach, to force him to think about her again, to be just a little bit closer to him.
Regrettably, she has self-control and simply nods, approving of his mental plan. "The other three work together perfectly, so I think you have your design, Mr. Summers." Really, it will be charming.
"I think coming up with a plan deserves a little reward." Emma reaches over to gently try to ease the wine glass up to Scott's lips.
It gets up to his chin before Scott realizes what's happening and finally stops staring at the posters. Emma looks—happy. She's always beautiful, always impeccably put together from head to toe, but he likes how she looks when she laughs. It's usually the others, not Scott, who inspire it in her.
"Emma," he says, too soft to sound disapproving. "Scott," is echoed back at him. No one likes how he is about rules. It's ridiculous that he's so rigid even when it's rules he created for himself. But if Scott lets one thing go, then that's a step closer to letting everything go, and he can't afford that. Every time he makes a mistake—and he's made so many mistakes—
Losing focus. Scott forcibly directs his mind back on track. "Let's put these up." He sets the wine glass in front of Emma, and goes to retrieve the stepladder he put aside for this already. He'd started preparing the morning after Emma threatened to plaster his office with kitten posters.
For a brief moment there had been a glimmer in Emma's mind about making some sort of move, encouraged by his thoughts, but that quickly dissipates as Scott spirals and then redirects.
« Being perfect is an impossible goal, Scott - stop putting that on yourself. You're too good to be thinking the way you do. »
Emma eyes the glass of wine but doesn't pick it up again, smoothing over her expression.
"Ah, do I get to assist? I'm honored. I promise to take direction well, just this once."
She is selfishly soft with him, worried about driving a wedge between them if she ever pushes too hard. It's unfair to Scott, but she's not ready to change just yet. Maybe she needs to work harder on getting over this crush.
Scott lets Emma's psychic message pass through him without comment. Feeling it, weighing its intent, and filing it away in the archive of his mind like he does with everything people say about him, good or bad. It's difficult for Scott to relax, but he exhales and lets his shoulders loosen, not putting anything more on himself than Emma would expect. It's something for her - the smallest of victories that she'll take.
"Nothing strenuous. Just hand me the posters when it's time." He places the stepladder at the center of the north wall, and moves to his desk to gather supplies: painter's tape, paper clips, magnets, a yardstick and a level tool, even though his powers allow him to calculate precise angles by sight. He spent time planning out the least permanent way to hang posters, and decided on jumbo paper clips secured with tape, to give the magnets something to stick to. In typical Summers overcompensation, he has enough magnets in his desk for twenty posters.
(All of this is free ammunition if Magneto ever attacks the school, but Scott is trusting that the man he's gotten to know at Genosha would never. It's what Kurt would want.)
"Thank you." Scott isn't looking at her, instead focused on cutting multiple pieces of tape to exactly the same length. "For livening up my office."
Emma abandons her glass of wine, shifting instead to watch Scott as he prepares. She had considered bringing things - tape, a laser level - but figured he'd already have it covered. It's good to see that she wasn't wrong. It's almost meditative to watch him cut the tape so precisely, and she tries to focus on that instead of her worries. It's mostly successful, but there remains an uncomfortable stone in the pit of her stomach.
"Of course. You know how I love to help you out." She's quiet for a moment following this, but the silence feels stifling. It's annoying how quick the energy of the room has changed. She shouldn't have tried to get him to loosen up, at least not with wine.
"My favorite teacher in middle school had posters like this. I thought they were stupid but oddly comforting." As she says this she smooths her hand over the dalmatian poster, easing some of the curl out of it. "You'll have to tell me everything the children have to say about them."
"I'll keep notes." Repetitive tasks help turn the volume down in his head. Scott can still feel Emma curled up in his mind, but it's comforting rather than intrusive as he rebuilds his walls and clears out mental debris. There's a thread of guilt that's hard to pull—the knowledge of how standoffish he is, the suspicion that anyone else in this school would make better company.
He puts that thought in a box, and refocuses his attention on Emma. He tries to imagine her as a girl, looking up at these posters with her piercing blue eyes. "Your favorite teacher… Why did you like them?"
There is a gentle smoothing over of Scott's guilt - as much of it, anyways, as Emma can get to before he tucks it away. She continues not to push, instead momentarily providing him with a picture of herself at 11, a relatively serious looking child in a perfectly pressed school uniform with perfectly managed hair. As Emma speaks, Scott holds the image in his mind, memorizing it with the same meticulousness which he applies to road maps and contingency plans.
"He was absolutely ancient and wonderfully soft-spoken, like what you'd want a grandfather to be, and he was sharp and witty. Terribly thoughtful, too. He always looked out for me."
There's something nice about telling him this. Much like her companion Emma is not always quite so open about herself, though she'd argue her way of being guarded has much more finesse than Scott's.
"And, I know this will come as a horrible shock, but I was a little difficult. He was never unkind about it, though."
Scott climbs the ladder and uses a yardstick to check the distances he'd already calculated with his brain. He smiles at the wall, thinking about how clever and cutting Emma can be, and how quick his own students are with offhand insults. "Difficult how?"
After finding herself content with her efforts to flatten the posters, Emma turns to watch Scott and half sits on his desk, focusing on him and not her earlier misstep. There are ample things to distract her. Though there's a desire to make fun of him for double-checking how he'll hang cute animal posters, she holds her tongue on that matter.
"I was obstinate and argumentative. I hadn't embraced diplomacy yet." Which is no surprise - she was a child, after all, and so there is no judgement of herself in her voice. Emma reaches for her wine glass, taking a sip as she searches Scott's mind gently but not covertly for whatever bright spots of his youth he's willing to share.
"And I was horribly cutthroat with my classmates, which didn't always go over well."
Scott reforms his image of her based on new information—the Emma he knows who is charming and generous and ruthless, and the child who hadn't yet learned what parts to show and what to hide. She sounds like she must have been lonely. Loneliness, he recognizes.
Warnings divide Scott's active mind from his oldest memories, like caution tape around an abandoned crime scene. He doesn't go here, if he can help it. Beyond his hard-won control lies dark corners and blasted out walls and holes he might never climb out of. Years and years of amnesia, blackouts and psychic manipulation. Foreign footprints—Xavier—trace a path through the wreckage. Emma is sure to be ginger as she examines things here, wanting to be mindful both of the importance of this being cordoned off and that Scott is willing to let her in. She doesn't stray, as tempting as it is.
One memory, dusted off and signposted: a white-haired librarian who didn't laugh when a young boy said he needed to study what to do in every possible crisis. The stack of books in his arms covered auto repair, sewing, celestial navigation, and disease control. Pulling a slim red hardcover from the shelf, the librarian said, If I wanted to learn to think like a tactician, I'd start here.
"When did that change?" He tapes paper clips to the wall, at the exact points where the magnets will sit at the far corners of the poster but any tape will be hidden. "Was your teacher an influence at all?"
Scott's memory is nice and a little sad, like she finds many things in his mind, but it pulls a smile out of her as her eyes remain focused on his methodical work. She sets down her glass, preparing to do her permitted job of handing him a poster when he's ready.
"It's good to feel at least a little understood, isn't it?" This applies to both of them and their childhood benefactors. "I think he helped me be less angry, which was some of it. Some of it was just growing up a bit. Some of it was the Hellfire Club, honestly. I had to learn how to handle myself there quickly."
Scott has a vague sense of what a young Emma was angry about, from hints collected over the years. It's not something he'd prod at without reason, but he likes listening to her talk about herself. The peace of this moment, the sharing of little details, is a rare gift. It's good to feel at least a little understood, isn't it? He's made himself an open book to her, and rarely thinks about how unequal it is that Emma must know more about him than he knows about her. Maybe he should've asked before now. But Scott knows what an enormous privilege it is, to be trusted with someone's history.
He holds a hand out to her. "Dalmatian, please." A pause, and also: "What was the Hellfire Club like?"
Emma pushes herself off the desk, picking up the poster and delivering it to Scott with overdramatic reverence. They are christening his office with fun, a sentiment she sends over to him with amusement and gentle jest. Scott returns an image of himself striking through fun with a red pen, and writing motivation instead.
She has to think a little on his question, though, trying to sort through all the complicated feelings around it. The tiniest bit of this is projected into Scott's mind, an acknowledgement of his thoughts on their unequal sharing even though she doesn't mind knowing more than she shares.
"It had some of the same complications as home - people vying for influence and power, all sorts of subtle little in-fighting and posturing. But they took decent care of me, and they served their purpose. I learned a lot there, and I had the opportunity to figure out how to use everything I'd learned from my father in an environment where I wasn't trying to push back against him. I'd be more grateful for it if Jason wasn't such an annoying creature."
The paint-splattered dalmatian poster goes up, four round magnets softly clicking on each corner. Scott's measurements were precise. He turns back to Emma, silently asking for the "hang in there" kitten next.
"How did they react when you left?" People who only care for power couldn't have taken well to losing one of their resources, especially if this was a telepath as talented as Emma. Scott often wonders if the people behind the Essex House were angry that he ran away and ended up under Xavier's protection. The lack of answers there still frustrates him. "Is Wyngarde still with the Hellfire Club?"
Emma goes to retrieve the next poster, humming and waiting to reply before she's back and offering it to Scott. He takes it with all the care normally reserved for handling priceless artwork.
"Oh, they were very unhappy. Jason, mostly, since I was meant to be his ticket to a higher status, but no one was overly pleased - they'd invested in me for a year and I just skipped out. But they never tried to do much about it, I assume because messing with Charles wasn't worth it." A one shouldered shrug. "Jason's still there, right where I left him."
She's quiet for a moment as she thinks over her companion's thoughts a bit more, frowning only the tiniest amount. "Do you know if Charles has done much more in trying to find out what was going on there?"
Another pause, as Scott busies himself with hanging the poster. "As far as I know, the home was shut down a year after I ran away. Following the paper trail only led to dead ends." Discomfort ripples through his mind, quickly suppressed. He knows what Emma is really referring to here. The last time Professor Xavier dug deep in Scott's memories, he was eighteen. They'd only done a couple of sessions before Scott refused to continue. It wasn't worth compromising his present performance to resolve his past.
Emma does not comment or press on the discomfort, and of course doesn't press on Xavier digging around in his mind. Maybe someday, when she's a little less tentative with him and they're a little less caught up in other problems, she can convince him to work through those things. For now, though, she'll let it lie. Mostly. "If you ever want me to use any of my contacts to try to track something down, you only need to ask."
The only acknowledgement is a flicker of thanks in Scott's mind, as he makes minute adjustments to the posters so they're perfectly aligned with each other. "Do you think the Hellfire Club still wants you back?"
"I'd be surprised if they didn't. They'd really have to have something on me to achieve that, though." It's hard to imagine what that would be, and unlike Scott she doesn't spend her time trying to think up worst case scenarios.
Instead, she'd rather think about this current task of theirs. Emma takes a step back to examine the presentation of the two posters, noting how they look in the room at large. Stupid and perfect. It brings her a surprising amount of joy. "No one there would let me bring them motivational posters. I'd be so unhappy."
"Their loss." Scott jumps down from the ladder and stands shoulder-to-shoulder with her, looking up at their work. Stupid and perfect is right. (It distracts him from the note he's just added to his mental ledger: Protocol - Hellfire Club, Jason Wyngarde.)
They have four more posters to deal with, but he lingers here instead, enjoying Emma's proximity and the quiet of the evening. He's been working away in his office long enough that most of the other teachers have vacated theirs. "Everyone else will want kitten posters once they see mine," he says.
As Scott stands next to her Emma smiles, amused and content, dismissing his concerns about the Hellfire Club and Jason Wyngarde from her own mind. Everything has evened out nicely from the slight misstep earlier, and she has no interest in disrupting this quiet. This is better than silliness and wine anyways. With a hum, she shifts to gently bump her shoulder against his.
"You'll be the envy of all the other teachers until they can sort out their own posters. But even then, there's no way they can match my selections."
Flattering to think Emma wouldn't do this for anyone else—and ridiculous, when the favor in question is animal posters with inspirational taglines, but even Scott isn't immune to Emma's generosity. It's easier, somehow, to accept gifts from her than anyone else. Maybe because he can see it's not pity, just the least complicated way for her to express care for them. Maybe because she lavishes so much on all of them that it doesn't feel like being singled out.
(Something shifts in his mind at the idea of Emma giving him special attention, but is swiftly repressed again.)
"Come on." Scott nudges her shoulder, and grabs the ladder. "Let's put up the rest of them."