icecoldfrost | Emma's Flat, Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn. Wednesday Afternoon.

Classes were done for the day, and while normally Emma would be doing some stupid group team-building project with the other students in her human development class, she was skipping whatever stupid feel-good heart-to-heart nonsense the teacher had come up with this week. With an excuse! ...kinda! Candy was coming over once she was finished with work tonight so they could practice for summer internship interviews. Which meant Emma was putting away her groceries and prepping to make an utterly ridiculously large amount of tacos.

Look, she and Candy were growing girls. And they were not going to give in to the self-hate of the American media and body-image magazines. Because tacos. They were not just necessary to live, but to deal with the stupidity of the human race and their male counterparts who were jostling for the same jobs and complaining about how it was 'unfair' that the girls had the 'advantage' of being female.

No, Emma hadn't been experimenting to see if she'd suddenly developed psychokinesis last week in class, why did you ask? Really. Setting someone on fire with her brain, while potentially therapeutic, wasn't actually helpful.

Yet.

[OOC: Open for calls, texts, you know the drill.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I can't wait tables or sell coffee, it'd look bad on my resume," she sulked. "I've put in resumes at a few places, but as much as they say they want to hire me, they don't want someone who's still a student."

"I'll try...I don't know. Maybe hostess at some of the very nice bespoke shops. Maybe I'll get a discount on my suits or something."

"Snob," Jack said affectionately. "Let me know if I can help at all. I could wrangle Eric into writing a letter of recommendation, if you want."

"If I had money, I might pay to see that," she answered, perking up a little. "What on earth would Eric put in a letter of recommendation? 'Not squeamish around blood, looks good in leather?'"

"Can detect a fake ID with a glance, doesn't ask too many stupid questions," Jack nodded. "What employer wouldn't appreciate it? Especially if you're applying to work as a dominatrix."

"I should!" Emma laughed. "I wouldn't have to put it on a resume, and anyone who saw me would be too embarrassed about the circumstances to say anything to anyone else!"

"And you only have to work nights. It's perfect," Jack said, also laughing. "I'd even help you pick out your outfit."

Noble offer, wasn't it?

"Oh? And what would you pick out for me?" Emma asked, possibly enjoying this far too much. "Something in red, or black?"

Jack closed his eyes, lay back on his bed. "Neither. White," he decided. "Maybe with a red robe over it. Mix of bride and whore, you know?"

"Interesting imagery you come up with for me," she teased. "Now I have to wonder what you've been daydreaming about while doing Eric's paperwork."

"I wish I could tell you it was filthy and terrible, but the truth is it's mostly about numbers and classes and who needs which bit of paper," Jack sighed. "Too busy to daydream, Emma. Isn't that awful?"

"Too responsible for your own good," she chided. "You're going to start going grey, you know."

"Do you think it'll suit me?" Jack deflected. "I think I could use the gravitas."

"Never. You're going to be ridiculously good-looking for your entire life, utterly ageless and making the rest of us look bad," Emma said. "Gravitas wouldn't suit you at all."

"I think I just decided that I don't care whether you can lie or not," Jack said. "Thank you. You'll be beautiful forever too, do you know that? I couldn't make you look bad."

"Being fabulous is my tertiary mutant power," Emma agreed cheerfully. "I wonder...if I shifted to diamond and stayed that way, would I live forever?"

"Probably, but you'd have to give up food and sex and everything else fun in life," Jack said, a touch whiny. "I miss flesh-and-bone Emma when you're a diamond. Do it when you're 90 and have already enjoyed everything else. "

"Careful, Jack," Emma teased, "it almost sounds as if you do have time to miss me, amidst all those pieces of paper."

Jack considered that for a moment, drew a breath.

"The worst thing in my life right now," he said quietly, "isn't the bits of paper or the lycanthropy or this insane island. It's that we've never found a way to be in the same place for more than a few months. Of course I miss you, I'm just -- stubborn. As are you."

"I should remember not to make blithe one-off comments like that on days you're cursed with honesty," Emma said. "I'll make you a deal, then, Mr. Priest. Should I fail spectacularly in finding honest employment, I'll come back again this summer."

"Although I feel compelled to point out that you wouldn't like me half as much if I was sweet and pliable."

"Of course not, there's no point in being with someone who makes it too easy on me," Jack shot back. "But I'd love it if you could come for the summer. I'd be in a much better mood if I was having sex regularly. And I did not mean to say that."

"I might be in a better mood if I was getting laid, but then I remember how much I hate the vast majority of humanity for their stupidity," Emma offered dryly.

"And I did mean to say that."

"I'm sure you did," Jack sighed. "Just ... keep not hating me, all right? I don't care if you hate everyone else; it rather flatters my ego."

"I should send you to Dite's with a gift card, that will cheer you up," Emma decided. "I think you're allergic to these 'Truth Days,' they make you utterly morose."

"I can't lie, it's Passover so I can't eat anything tasty, and it's the full moon," Jack answered simply. "Any two of those things would have me a bit whiny. With all three I'm drowning in melodrama. Tell me a joke, I'll cheer up."

"Why couldn't the baby Jesus be born in New York?" Emma asked her Jewish werewolf lover. "Because they couldn't find 3 wise men or a virgin!"

Really, Jack, you should know better than to let Emma tell jokes.

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