icecoldfrost | The Hellfire Club, Emma's New York, Friday Evening.

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The Hellfire Club, Emma's New York, Friday Evening.

The message had only said that Jack required distraction, and so Emma had gotten them seats for the most distracting thing available: The Annual New York After-Dark Burlesque Review, hosted at - of course - The Hellfire Club. Because if you were going for decadence, you needed the perfect backdrop.

This wasn't the usual 'gentleman's club' section of the Club, either. New York's finest burlesque artists (and visual artists) were the ones throwing this party; meaning it was utterly gorgeous and equal oggle-tunity for everyone, no matter your personal tastes.

[OOC: For one & SP]

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Emma just laughed, and let the bartender top off her drink as she glanced over to the dancer Jack had indicated. "Well," she said, "Let's go pick one of the little tables for two, where we can enjoy the show."

And eventually he might tell her why he needed the distraction, or he might not. Emma was fine with either.

Then the dancer did a back-bend, and Emma fanned herself. "Wow. Those are some nice goods in his sample bin."

"Mmmm. Big, but I have a feeling it might just be pumped up with air," Jack said lightly. He sipped his drink again, enjoying the burn of it as he sought out a table.

"How's that one?" he asked, pointing. "Close enough to watch the chocolates being made, so to speak, but not so close we're likely to be put to work."

"Put to work?" Emma asked, disbelieving, as she started towards their selected table. "Believe it or not, I've never been to a burlesque show - how on earth would they put us to work?"

"Maybe it's something they don't do here," Jack said, halfway apologetic. "At home the tables near the stage are the ones where the dancers try to make you part of the show. I'm not in the mood."

"Good, since I was planning on saving my strip-tease to be a private event for you," Emma answered cheerfully, not really caring if anyone was listening. It was the Hellfire Club, after all. Everyone was talking about similar activities, or something equally debauched. "I'm hoping to get a few ideas for this weekend, but I'd rather not be on display."

"I earned a strip-tease?" Jack asked equally unbothered by the fact they were in public. Really, if someone at Hellfire had nothing better to eavesdrop on that wasn't his problem. "I'm touched. And glad you aren't upset the island kept me out of touch for a week."

"Oh, I'm furious that I couldn't get through for a week," Emma admitted. "But yelling at you is usually counter-productive to getting what I want, so I'm going with bribery."

Jack pouted at her, looking up from under his lashes. "You'd yell at someone who was in a dungeon for a week?"

"Is this one of those, 'Oh look, a mysterious place, I am going to show blatant disregard for life and limb and explore' wandering into dungeons, or an accidental 'Emma I didn't do it' dungeon?" she asked. "And I didn't hear from you for more than one week - we last spoke when you were getting a rash from all the honesty."

She hadn't been worried, that would be tacky. Except that she knew graduation and its typical nonsense was coming up, so, yes, she had been worried.

Not that Emma was going to say any of that here.

"So don't you pout at me, Mr. Priest. I may not yell, but that doesn't mean I don't have other tricks up my sleeve."

"It's been that long?" Jack looked genuinely surprised.

And then he remembered he'd opted not to call during sex pollen week because phone sex had felt like a cruel tease, and then he'd been ... otherwise detained.

"Sorry," he said honestly. "The island's been in a mood. The dungoen collected us all overnight."

"Any injuries, aside from the usual mental trauma?" she asked, sotto voce, as they reached the table. "Should I keep you in bed and feed you soup all weekend?"

"Well, I was hoping you'd keep me in bed all weekend," Jack said lightly. "But no, no injuries. The thing was just a compilation of the worst of Fandom. I got to play tourist on the version of the island full of vampires."

If anyone was looking closely, they'd see Emma's grip on the chair tighten, her nails shifting from normal to diamond and back again.

Someone still had residual trauma, yes, and the chair gained a tiny crack.

"My first and most unfortunate of the Fandom Traumas," she said lightly, taking a seat and forcing her powers under control. "I hope you didn't run into any of the locals."

"Only saw them from a distance before I took off," Jack admitted. "Didn't seem like the right time to go courting a messy death."

He glanced to her hands. "I'm sorry. I wasn't telling you to upset you."

"Startled, not upset," Emma said, taking a sip of her drink to steady herself. "It's not a place I hear referenced often; you caught me by surprise, that's all."

See, Jack! She was trying to be good and stay out of your head! Emma totally deserved a cookie for this.

"I'm just glad that you decided to go in the other direction. You didn't meet the other-me, did you? She's rather unpleasant, even by my standards. I'm rather sure she hates people even more than I do."

Jack shook his head. "I didn't get that far. Barely did anything, really. Walked into the park, caught a glimpse of a group feeding, found another place to be."

Intrigued, he added, "Did you get to talk to the other you? Or do you have her memories?"

"Talk to her? No. But I had the dreams, before I ended up there. I saw what she saw, heard what she heard, and when I was there...due to the nature of our talents, I knew what she knew," Emma answered. "I still have all of it rattling around in my head; filed, compartmentalized, and cataloged for a rainy day."

"Rather like when we have those weird weekends when we're temporarily other people. You remember, it just doesn't feel quite real after awhile," she mused. "So you were in a dungeon, and ran into vampires... sounds like you got your running exercise."

"Oh love," Jack said softly, and for a moment he couldn't see the dancers at all.

He swallowed the sympathy. It was too close to pity.

"I did," he said, in a more normal tone. "Which was good, since otherwise I was just sitting around a room with not enough to eat. The terror kept my mind off it, you see. Oh, and there was one charming room that took us into our memories."

It would be a shame if Jack couldn't see the dancers, as they were starting to get creative.

Emma glanced over at Jack wryly. "Why do I suddenly suspect we are not talking about happy-fun-stay-in-bed memories?"

Because FANDOM, Emma. Fandom.

Jack tried to look casual -- an effort assisted by the fact one of the dancers was working with trained birds, and he was genuinely distracted trying to see if she was going to get her eyes pecked out.

"It's Fandom, of course we aren't," he said. "The bright side is, now I'd recognize my mother if I saw her on the street."

"Is that a bright side?" she asked, because, well, Emma somehow doubted it. "I mean, I suppose there were worse options," like, oh, reliving Paris, "--but it hardly seems bright."

Jack smiled thinly. "Kaidan got to see almost dying. Twice. All it felt like showing me was what a silly child I was."

"Do we need to bring Kaidan with you next time? Or should I just send a care box for both of you to the house?" Emma asked. It was probably wishful thinking that she'd been hoping Kaidan wouldn't have had Fandom pile on him like this, right? "While bringing him to the Club and watching him die from blushing might be hilarious, it might be more therapeutic for me than him."

Jack laughed, surprising himself with it. "I think just the care box. Though seeing him in a place like this would be hilarious. I think he's too Canadian for it."

"Too Canadian, or too much of an actual, honest-to-goodness, good Boy Scout?" Emma laughed. "Or are they the same thing?"

EMMA DON'T BE MEAN.

"He'd be popular, though." Seriously, Jack, have you seen that ass?

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