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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"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?

"Do they have boy scouts in Canada in the future?" Jack wondered, a bit lazily. He was still watching the dancer with the birds. "And -- yes. He would. Maybe we should be horrible and bring him here after all."

"I might have to beg prettily to get him through the front-door," Emma answered, although she was watching a girl doing a trapeze act on another stage. "...I wonder if any of these dancers does a Canadian-themed act. Would that involve a moose?"

"Poutine," Jack said solemnly. "Curds on the top, french fries on the bottom."

A pause. "... does this place serve food, by the way?"

"Of course, and lucky for you, you know someone who can summon a waiter without looking like she's hailing a cab," Emma answered cheerfully, as she mentally reached out and re-directed the nearest member of the staff. "...although I'd be lying if I said I hadn't ever done this to cabbies."

Jack rolled his eyes affectionately. "Do you ever get tired of showing off?"

He already knew the answer was no. Not that he minded. It'd be good to get something to nibble, and the dancers didn't appear to be up for it quite yet.

"No," Emma agreed, "Never."

"...and nibbling dancers is only for dessert, if you're lucky." And would pick one that Emma liked, too, because hogging the dessert was tacky. Her gaze drifted towards his avian-entertainment out of curiosity. "Not appetizers."

Jack stifled his grin at that behind his hand and smiled angelically up at the waiter, who seemed appropriately discomfited by it. He placed an order for a steak salad, hold the blue cheese, and then glanced back to Emma.

"But who says dessert can't be first?"

It was just banter; he was more interested in looking at the dancer than at touching.

Emma told the waiter to just add Jack's cheese on top of her salad - mmmmdoublecheeeeeeese - and ordered a mineral water to rehydrate before her next scotch.

"Because I say so," she decided, and this was totally going down in the list of Emma's Best Ideas Ever, because these people were amazing. "And if you have dessert before and after the show, you might get a cavity from all the sweets."

"But maybe I like cavities," Jack said, and reached to squeeze her knee under the table. "I know I like yours."

In news that will surprise no one ever: Jack had a filthy mind.

"Fiiiiiiiiilthy," Emma scolded affectionately. "You terrible boy. I can't take you anywhere, can I?"

Jack feigned astonishment. "As I recall, I was not the one who suggested a perfect Friday evening was spent at a burlesque show. You're as terrible as I am."

"You wanted distraction!" Emma answered, laughing. What else was I supposed to pick?"

"Ice skating?" Jack suggested playfully. "An absurdly expensive restaurant meal? The symphony?"

"Absurdly expensive meal is tomorrow, when we can probably get rush tickets for the opera," Emma informed him cheerfully. "But for the one night a year extravaganza? I didn't think we could pass it up."

"...nevermind that the Club will be hosting something equally entertaining next moth, if not as colorful." Or obviously flexible.

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