Emma Grace Frost (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
icecoldfrost) wrote2011-01-30 07:25 pm
icecoldfrost) wrote2011-01-30 07:25 pm
Entry tags:
Emma's New York / Abandoned Lower Level Under the 42nd Street Station / Manhattan / Sunday Evening
"Aren't you done yet?" Emma's head poked out of a manhole drop, upside down as she looked at Hank. "Hank, I've been here three days, and you've had it for a week."
"I am a geneticist, Miss Frost, not an engineer." Hank pushed his safety goggles up onto his hair and frowned at her. "Where did you get this, young lady?"
"From someone at school," she answered evasively, tossing her pack to the floor and quickly jumping down after it. "Hey, I picked up some Spagetti-Os and a box of Twinkies. Your favorites."
"And how many poor saps did you con at pool to get my groceries?" he asked, picking up the arm or the armor and waggling it at her accusingly. "Shame on you, Emma."
"I don't need to hustle anyone to pay for our food anymore, Hank, with or without my powers," Emma retorted, already putting the groceries away. "With the investments I've made in the past two years, I've already got enough stashed away to pay for my first two years of college, if I'm careful."
"...but parting a bunch of fools from their money is a public service - and entertaining - and I could use the extra cash for rent once I graduate from Fandom," she admitted, sitting down in her chair to carefully count out the change. "Or at least enough money to rent a PO box, so I have a legitimate mailing address."
"You could, actually, get a job," Hank suggest dryly, pulling down his goggles and going back to work on the suit. "It would be a legitimate source of income, and I hear they help build character."
Emma made a face. "Quite a few people would tell you that I have more than enough character," she complained, but finished putting away Hank's food supplies for the next two weeks before wandering over and pulling up a stool. "So. Have you figured out enough yet to tell me how this works?"
[OOC: Establishy, NFB, phone or text OK.]
"I am a geneticist, Miss Frost, not an engineer." Hank pushed his safety goggles up onto his hair and frowned at her. "Where did you get this, young lady?"
"From someone at school," she answered evasively, tossing her pack to the floor and quickly jumping down after it. "Hey, I picked up some Spagetti-Os and a box of Twinkies. Your favorites."
"And how many poor saps did you con at pool to get my groceries?" he asked, picking up the arm or the armor and waggling it at her accusingly. "Shame on you, Emma."
"I don't need to hustle anyone to pay for our food anymore, Hank, with or without my powers," Emma retorted, already putting the groceries away. "With the investments I've made in the past two years, I've already got enough stashed away to pay for my first two years of college, if I'm careful."
"...but parting a bunch of fools from their money is a public service - and entertaining - and I could use the extra cash for rent once I graduate from Fandom," she admitted, sitting down in her chair to carefully count out the change. "Or at least enough money to rent a PO box, so I have a legitimate mailing address."
"You could, actually, get a job," Hank suggest dryly, pulling down his goggles and going back to work on the suit. "It would be a legitimate source of income, and I hear they help build character."
Emma made a face. "Quite a few people would tell you that I have more than enough character," she complained, but finished putting away Hank's food supplies for the next two weeks before wandering over and pulling up a stool. "So. Have you figured out enough yet to tell me how this works?"
[OOC: Establishy, NFB, phone or text OK.]
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It was making Jack a little melancholy, too. But he liked the image.
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Epistolary/romance is traditional/Will do for now?
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Recount syllables/I may have won already/But triumph to both
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Then, by way of getting them back on track:
Would you pay me back in kisses?