(no subject)

[passingthru]

Who: Emma Frost and Kitty Pryde
When:2023, during the rebuilding after X-Tinction Agenda
Where:Genosha, a bar
What: Emma visits Kitty at her second job
Warnings:References to some nightmares/sleeplessness/depression and Bad Genosha Times, really questionable style choices by one person here

After a long day of playing mediator Emma would like the solace of a nice drink and some friendly company, and since Shinobi and Warren have gone after their short visit, she's entirely on her own to seek those things out. Genosha remains something of a contradiction to her - a place of horrible events and memories pulled from Manuel, but also a place of potential and healing. She feels out of sorts here, so while she'd normally be content to simply engage with strangers at a bar, that's not what she needs right now. She needs someone familiar.

She goes to the bar she knows Kitty works at, hoping she's on duty, dressed in a respectable pair of tight cream leather pants, a matching corset tube top, and a loose linen blazer. Business attire. It's a little out of place at the current establishment, but she's never cared about that, and she makes her way to the bar with almost a bounce in her step at the sight of her friend.

Kitty is at the tail end of an opening shift, shoes sticky with old beer and comfortably approaching exhaustion.This wasn’t why she came to the city. Her actual job, improving and repairing ethical technological infrastructure here in Genosha is certainly full time. But she couldn’t sleep much, and had wandered the streets for days before ducking into this very bar with a help wanted sign one night. It’s been nice to do a job, a second one, where she can just turn her brain off. Too much going on inside it.

Kitty hasn’t been hiding from her teammates, exactly, but she hasn’t seen a lot of them either. She’s been doing her own thing. Playing with her appearance a little. She doesn’t feel like she’s the same Kitty as before, like maybe part of that girl died the moment she destroyed the machine holding Manny, and then another part when she learned about the fight between Scott and Jean. The Kitty who remains is someone a little different. Her hair is very short right now, curling close around her ears and neck. She’s dressed in black shorts and an unusually lacy black tank, but she’s still herself, and it’s all topped with glittery moon and star jewelry, lightly out of place, but comforting.

She hears the familiar cadence of heels, and smiles. “Let me guess.” She leans across the bar, “White Russian?”

The sight of Kitty like this, so different, so mundane, feels a little more shocking to Emma than it should. She wonders a little if any of them will ever be able to claw their way back to how they used to be. Probably not. Ultimately its growth, she supposes.

She slips into the barstool directly in front of Kitty, ignoring anyone else's attention but her friend's. "Your most expensive whiskey. Neat. And you're looking very cute, darling." Maybe she'll make her do a video call with her and Manny later.

"Being a bartender suits you."

Compliments on her appearance from Emma are extremely rare. Dark and disaffected as her new clothes may be, Kitty’s not. A pleased little grin tilts over her face. “Yeah? I can’t decide if I like it.” It doesn’t quite feel like herself. But nothing does, lately. She self-consciously winds a curl on the back of her head around her fingers until they’re given something else to do.

Kitty turns to the highest shelf, and pours what is a bit too generous a measure of whiskey. She’s so very rarely in the position to give Emma things that she doesn’t mind being lightly reprimanded later, possibly. It’s not like she needs this job. That in mind, she pushes Emma’s drink towards her on a little napkin, and pretends to be busy negotiating, to avoid other customers. “I like being one.” She says, “Maybe I’ve finally found my true calling.”

Maybe it’s finally time for her to take a leave of absence. Go to school like a real young adult. Get her master’s degree while making tips. But that thought doesn’t sit solid in her head.

Emma waits to say anything else until she has her drink in front of her, simply watching Kitty and reading her in the meantime. She resists the urge to reach out once she's close again, loop a curl on her finger as well to soothe and acknowledge. Honestly, she's still feeling emotionally raw herself, and it would probably help her too. But they are at Kitty's place of work, so instead she takes a slow, appreciative sip of the whiskey.

She wants to tell her that Manny used to be a bartender and make a joke about him probably being much better at it than her, but she can't quite bring him up, even though he's fine now.

"A reinvention is useful in times like these, so I'm glad you're trying it out. I do have to ask, though - what hours, exactly, are you sleeping?"

Kitty pretends not to hear the question at first. For good reason; she has to serve an old lady next to Emma a coke with seven drops of lemon juice in it, first. Weird. When she finally turns her attention back, Kitty just shrugs.

“When I’m done with work. Until I have to get up again.” Which is technically the truth, and her brain can confirm. “I’m off in ten, tonight, though. If you… need something?” She’s only now clocking that it’s not normal for Emma to come in, and gives her a more centered look, searching for anything wrong.

"And how many hours is that usually?" Emma could look, of course, but there's power in making people voice their poor choices. She wrinkles her nose at the implication that she needs something, and takes another sip before replying further.

"Just some company, which you're already doing a wonderful job of providing." But maybe she should give her something more. She toys with her glass. "It was simply a long day." And then, a quick pivot, "You can have a small drink while you're working, can't you? Let me buy you something."

Kitty doesn’t answer that question out loud. She meets Emma’s eyes and for once, communicates that way. Not with words exactly. Just a feeling of assurance, that she knows she’s not sleeping well or being healthy. But it’s under control. She’s okay, ultimately. This pales in comparison to what everyone else had been through. Emma's response is likewise silent - an acceptance that she can take care of herself, even if there is still worry there. An acknowledgement of her troubles, even if others may have suffered worse.

Easier for Kitty to concentrate on what drink she wants to make Emma buy her, which ends up being a little spicy ginger beer and whiskey number. She only has ten minutes, so this is fine. More like eight now. She leans across the bar. “Thank you. Why was your day long? You can tell me. I’m a bartender.”

And therefore she’s practically a confessor now.

"Well, Father Pryde," Emma starts, picking up on Kitty's thoughts of being a 'confessor.' Making it stupid is easier, this way. "I forgot to say my Hail Marys this morning, which really ruined everything. I was in talks all day to make sure charitable money is going where it should, arguing with people about the importance of the arts, those sorts of things. All business and diplomatic fussing. And… I haven't been sleeping well, either." She takes another sip of her whiskey. "It certainly does make the days feel infinite."

Kitty laughs at the “confession” at first, but grows serious to suit her new station, propping her elbows on the bar and taking a long sip of her own drink, very seriously. Jokes aside, she knows this is more than Emma normally opens up. To her, at least. But jokes can’t be aside. That’s what makes this interaction palatable and even possible. She understands that.

So faux-gravely, she makes a messy sign of the cross in the air and silently begs Kurt for forgiveness for the butchery of that symbol. This is not her religion. “You’re forgiven, child, as long as you have at least two more drinks and don’t skimp on those Hail Marys.” But her mouth twists into a sad little smile, “I know they’re important, but those meetings do feel long. Pointless, sometimes, don’t they. After all it took to get here.”

Emma laughs a little - at the cross, at being 'forgiven' - before she downs the rest of her still rather full glass in one go. "I can do two more drinks, darling. I assume the Father will be joining me shortly as well? I'll buy you two more, for Jesus or something."

She looks at her empty glass, pondering, her expression evening into one more serious. It's important to let these things out, she figures. "Most of them listen to me, at least, without much prodding. But yes, sometimes they feel pointless. And I just want them to do some good. I need this place to not be just a living symbol of a nightmare."

“And that’s hard to build when you’re having nightmares and waking up in the same place they started.” Emma momentarily looks up at Kitty when she says this, but otherwise does not react.

Kitty goes quiet for a minute, busies herself making the final drink of the evening, which is Emma’s. On second thought, she leaves the bottle in front of them, explaining it’d be paid for to the replacement bartender, who looks skeptical but doesn’t protest. Kitty phases through the bar itself, at last sitting next to Emma with her own drink.

“But I like to think if we give the nightmares just a little piece, so they’re not forgotten, we can rebuild around them. You’re doing a lot of good.”

Once Kitty is seated Emma raises her glass, clinking it with her companion's. She doesn't need reassurances that she's doing good so much - deep down she knows she is. What she needs is… this, she supposes. Silently acknowledged commiseration.

"Wiping this place of all the reminders of atrocities isn't the right decision, I agree. But… yes, I refuse to let Genosha be simply that. Mutants shouldn't have to live with a place like that in the world." It may not save them from something similar happening again, but hopefully it can be a model for how to establish something good for mutants from something terrible.

“We won’t let them. It’s going to be something special, here. We’ll make it that way. And after, we should insist on a plaque or something.” This is sort of a joke. Halfway. Kitty clinks her glass with Emma’s, and takes a long sip.

"And I can help with your nightmares if you need, darling. I'm very good at soothing them."

Kitty shakes her head at that, though. She can’t explain it out loud, and with Emma, she doesn’t have to. But she doesn’t want anyone to swoop in and solve her problems, this time. They were there for a reason. Some pain is motivating. “Not fair when you’d still have yours.” She reasons instead, but does what she can, and drops her head on Emma’s shoulder, which is as soothing a gesture as she can think of right now.

As Kitty's head settles on her shoulder Emma shifts to gently wrap an arm around the other young woman, taking a sip of her refreshed whiskey with her other hand. It's understandable that her friend wants to handle this on her own - Emma always does, after all. And there is something to be said for working through things. Understanding is gently flooded into Kitty's mind, affectionate and even a little proud.

"Mine will pass, just like yours." And that's as much as she'll say about them. With a quiet hum, Emma shifts to lean her head gently against Kitty's. "Tell me some stupid thing you've overheard while working here. Or some salacious drama. I don't get anything like that all day, and my home is very empty and boring now, so there's nothing there either."

Kitty knew she’d understand. She props her chin up on her friend’s shoulder so she can both remain close and keep drinking.

“Okay, well.” She’s actually been waiting for someone to offload about five sagas on, but had a very adult reputation to balance. So this is perfect. She can be a distraction.

“I feel so sad for a lady who comes in here every night, she has gills, right? She’s really pretty but she has to stick her head in a bucket every half hour and it really kills her flirting game. So I want to find another fish for her, if you see one send them here. And then there’s the guy who has two girlfriends and a wife and I think the two girlfriends are dating each other, and for some reason, this is the only place any of them go. And Emma.” She pauses for dramatic effect, ”They haven’t run into each other at all yet.”

"I will find her a fish or someone equally compatible," Emma starts, completely self-assured about this task. She does really love the work she's doing here, despite all the frustrations and long hours, but nothing revives her quite like a job that involves some well-meaning meddling.

But now, of course, she has to address the real bit of gossip, one that has her grinning around the rim of her glass as she takes another drink. This is one of the reasons she loves Kitty so much.

"Oh, the man must have some sort of fetish. Why on earth would you be willing to risk this otherwise? The girlfriends too, maybe?" She sets down her glass, nightmares and everything else depressing pushed from her mind with ease, now. "Or, you know. Maybe they all have crushes on you."

Kitty shoots over a look of sharp incredulity, sitting up long enough to take a healthy drink. She explains to Emma like she would a particularly stupid pupil, “Just because everyone on earth walks around with a crush on you doesn’t mean that’s how the rest of us get to operate, you know.”

This is just a resigned truth. (It earns her an incredibly self-satisfied grin from Emma.) Even Kitty had been among that number over the years, in ebbs and flows that had now resolved in a comfortable fondness, thank god. “They definitely just have a mutual can’t-get-caught fetish, I think. The wife’s over there, actually.”

A very tall woman in her late twenties with long black hair and a singularly bored expression. She is looking over in their direction, so Kitty doesn’t stare.

"Sadly it's not actually everyone, because some people have no taste." Emma does acknowledge that she's not everyone's type, at least. Her eyes flick over towards the identified woman out of curiosity, the movement more like a small scan of the room than a direct glance.

"Well, she thinks you're incredibly hot." She takes another drink of whiskey.

“Please shut up.” Kitty scoffs. She finishes her first drink and instead of asking for a second one, just pours some of the expensive whiskey over her ice cubes.

Emma laughs, not complaining about Kitty taking the whiskey even though she's not certain the other girl will actually enjoy it.

"What? I'm being honest, darling. She's trying to figure out if you and I are an item. She was hoping to ask if you wanted to grab a drink with her sometime, but I'm currently ruining her plans."

Kitty takes a sip of the whiskey and doesn’t make a face at all. It’s not her favorite taste, but it’s warming. Or she’s just distracted by an even more horrifying prospect. She gives all of her attention to Emma, pointedly not looking in the stranger’s direction.

“Okay, which we have to keep ruining. I can’t kiss a wife.”

Kitty earns herself a brief inkling of impressed from Emma at her stoney-faced sip of whiskey. She's all grown up now. With a laugh she leans in a little more for effect, even if she thinks this woman's interest in her companion is funny enough that she should indulge it just a little bit.

"No? Clearly whatever they have going on is either open or broken. But I can keep up the ruining, or simply send her away if you really want."

“Broken.” Kitty decides, instantly. She glances back again and if Emma’s lying, she’s doing a good job. The wife is in fact staring. Kitty takes a longer sip. This is just her luck. She doesn’t want to encourage recreational mind manipulation. But she also can’t drive away regulars. Truly the hardest ethical question she’s had to face to date.

In the end, perhaps empowered by Emma’s amusement, she settles on an impish grin. “Actually. Wanna walk me home instead? Keep her guessing?” And that way, Kitty tries not to think too loudly, if Emma wanted to sleep on a bad couch that at least wasn’t quiet, there might be fewer nightmares.

Emma considers this offer, along with the thoughts attached to it that Kitty is terrible at obscuring. Once again, she decides to just down the rest of her whiskey in one go, the burning pleasant and invigorating and distracting. The woman behind them is still trying to figure out their relationship to one another, and that's another amusing thing to focus her mind on. She leans to give Kitty a quick kiss on the cheek, just to add a bit more confusion.

"How much is the bottle, darling? I can settle up, and then I'm walking you to my home. I don't sleep on couches."

“I made your receipt before I got here.” Kitty reaches behind the counter and provides. It’s an expensive receipt, but she’s pretty sure Emma won’t care. With the way she wrinkles her nose against the kiss, she’s even more sure the wife is confounded. Maybe that’s for the best.

Kitty leans in, hanging on every number Emma signs but all she says is, “And make sure to tip your bartender.”

"Why do you reject my love?" Emma jokes, taking care of the bill without batting an eyelash and tipping handsomely before she grabs the bottle and hands it to Kitty. She knows you typically can't just walk out of an establishment with an open bottle, even if it's paid for. But who's going to stop her?

"She's disappointed. Confused, but disappointed. You're welcome."

“But now I feel so mean.” Kitty does, but it’s sort of her own fault, so she can’t complain too much. And it’s all for the best. She really doesn’t need to kiss anyone’s wife. Anyway, she’s more concerned with the bottle thrust at her. This is certainly illegal. After a moment of panic, Kitty drinks the rest of her whiskey, as well. Then she waits til no one’s looking at her and dives through the floor, trusting Emma will meet up with her at the door.

“...Maybe now they’ll all find a new bar, though.” She grins when she does, poking the bottle back at her friend.

Comments

[seeingred scott summers ⊗ cyclops]

MY GIRLSSSS 🥺 i love this peek into Kitty's genosha times and them subtly showing care for each other and i think they should've kissed to make the wife jealous