Emma Grace Frost (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
icecoldfrost) wrote2015-03-27 07:12 pm
icecoldfrost) wrote2015-03-27 07:12 pm
Jack's Room, 33 Apocalypse Ave. [Friday Afternoon]
Emma didn't know what day it was, and honestly, she didn't care. She just wanted to sleep and read, and maybe sleep some more.
Emma Grace Frost
Professional Liar
Emma propped herself up on her elbows, blinking at him in confusion as she came awake. "Who what now?" she asked. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Emma you are a lying liar who liiiiiiies.
"Your heartbeat changes when you lie," Jack told her. "It already sounds wrong, anyhow, with how sick you are."
He sat at the edge of the bed, drumming his hands on his thighs restlessly. "There's a shopkeeper in town who's a demon," he explained. "He sells cursed things. They steal souls. Cause symptoms a lot like yours. So whatever you bought, it's stealing your soul bit by bit and soon you'll be dead because you were too proud and stupid to let me help you."
"Ha ha, it's not April Fool for another week, Jack," Emma sighed, before getting interrupted by another fit of coughing. "I'm a psychic, remember? I'd think I'd notice if someone was stealing my soul."
Jack almost snarled, the animal in him very close to the surface. "Maybe soul is the wrong word. I'm no wizard, and no psychic. The point is, you're sick, and the thing is making you that way."
He began pulling at the blankets around Emma, trying to uncover anything she might be hiding.
"If the last five years mean anything to you, you won't lie to me about it again."
Emma flinched back from the anger, almost automatically pulling the blanket closer to her for comfort. "No thing is making me sick!" she protested, shaking slightly from the suddenness of everything. "Occam's razor, Jack. Viruses and bacteria mutate so fast, it's astonishing that they haven't found a way around the mutant genome before now. I'll be fine!"
Thing is, she actually believed it.
Jack kept rummaging around the blankets, though he wasn't finding anything unusual. He made himself stop before he frightened Emma any worse, and took a step back.
"Humor me," he said, kindly as he could manage. "Did you buy something from Gaunt?"
"But you took something from the store," Jack ascertained. "Did you by chance give him something in exchange for said stolen property, or did he hand it over out of the goodness of his demonic little heart?"
"Names," she said, bored with this already. "Involving the Troopers was going to take too much time and I didn't want them pawing at it and asking questions."
"Fantastic. Completely understandable," Jack sighed. "The point is, you gave him something -- whether you saw him as payment or not -- and my guess is that's enough to make it count as 'buying.'"
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "What is it that you're willing to die over? And I promise I'm not being melodramatic. I've seen what this is doing to people. You aren't going to get better on your own."
Emma Frost
"It can't be cursed or whatever, I'm the one that had it made," Emma said, shaking her head. "It's custom, impossible to fake. How would that even work?"
Yes, focus on that, Emma, not what he's actually saying.
"You're asking technical questions and I'm telling you you might die," Jack pointed out. "How does that make sense? Do you really want to prove a point more than you want to live?"
"None of what you're saying makes sense!" she retorted, frustrated. "'Oh, Emma, the new shopkeep is stealing the souls of people on the island and killing them even though that's a terrible business model and does not have long-term sustainability!'"
It was business, Jack. BUSINESS. Emma was a creature who understood Capitalism and Logic, not magic. "It would make sense to siphon off a bit at a time, get the maximum amount of trades and information possible out of one person, and then salt and burn behind you. Killing someone like me after one 'trade' doesn't make sense, because I have more to offer. If I gave him names for C--"
Emma clamped down and glared at him, biting her lip to keep from bursting into tears. Stupid werewolf detective boys giving her sad faces.
[OOC: Preplayed with the beautifully brilliant![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bitten_notshy. To be continued in comments!]
Professional Liar
Emma propped herself up on her elbows, blinking at him in confusion as she came awake. "Who what now?" she asked. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Emma you are a lying liar who liiiiiiies.
Jack Priest
Frustrated Boyfriend
Frustrated Boyfriend
"Your heartbeat changes when you lie," Jack told her. "It already sounds wrong, anyhow, with how sick you are."
He sat at the edge of the bed, drumming his hands on his thighs restlessly. "There's a shopkeeper in town who's a demon," he explained. "He sells cursed things. They steal souls. Cause symptoms a lot like yours. So whatever you bought, it's stealing your soul bit by bit and soon you'll be dead because you were too proud and stupid to let me help you."
Emma Frost
"Ha ha, it's not April Fool for another week, Jack," Emma sighed, before getting interrupted by another fit of coughing. "I'm a psychic, remember? I'd think I'd notice if someone was stealing my soul."
Jack Priest
Jack almost snarled, the animal in him very close to the surface. "Maybe soul is the wrong word. I'm no wizard, and no psychic. The point is, you're sick, and the thing is making you that way."
He began pulling at the blankets around Emma, trying to uncover anything she might be hiding.
"If the last five years mean anything to you, you won't lie to me about it again."
Emma Frost
Emma flinched back from the anger, almost automatically pulling the blanket closer to her for comfort. "No thing is making me sick!" she protested, shaking slightly from the suddenness of everything. "Occam's razor, Jack. Viruses and bacteria mutate so fast, it's astonishing that they haven't found a way around the mutant genome before now. I'll be fine!"
Thing is, she actually believed it.
Jack Priest
Jack kept rummaging around the blankets, though he wasn't finding anything unusual. He made himself stop before he frightened Emma any worse, and took a step back.
"Humor me," he said, kindly as he could manage. "Did you buy something from Gaunt?"
Jack Priest
"But you took something from the store," Jack ascertained. "Did you by chance give him something in exchange for said stolen property, or did he hand it over out of the goodness of his demonic little heart?"
Emma Frost
"Names," she said, bored with this already. "Involving the Troopers was going to take too much time and I didn't want them pawing at it and asking questions."
Jack Priest
"Fantastic. Completely understandable," Jack sighed. "The point is, you gave him something -- whether you saw him as payment or not -- and my guess is that's enough to make it count as 'buying.'"
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "What is it that you're willing to die over? And I promise I'm not being melodramatic. I've seen what this is doing to people. You aren't going to get better on your own."
Emma Frost
"It can't be cursed or whatever, I'm the one that had it made," Emma said, shaking her head. "It's custom, impossible to fake. How would that even work?"
Yes, focus on that, Emma, not what he's actually saying.
Jack "So Done with this Shit, Emma," Priest
"You're asking technical questions and I'm telling you you might die," Jack pointed out. "How does that make sense? Do you really want to prove a point more than you want to live?"
Emma "Not Telling" Frost
"None of what you're saying makes sense!" she retorted, frustrated. "'Oh, Emma, the new shopkeep is stealing the souls of people on the island and killing them even though that's a terrible business model and does not have long-term sustainability!'"
It was business, Jack. BUSINESS. Emma was a creature who understood Capitalism and Logic, not magic. "It would make sense to siphon off a bit at a time, get the maximum amount of trades and information possible out of one person, and then salt and burn behind you. Killing someone like me after one 'trade' doesn't make sense, because I have more to offer. If I gave him names for C--"
Emma clamped down and glared at him, biting her lip to keep from bursting into tears. Stupid werewolf detective boys giving her sad faces.
[OOC: Preplayed with the beautifully brilliant
bitten_notshy. To be continued in comments!]
"You are going to tell me what you got from Needful Things, and you are going to tell me now, and then we're going to destroy it. And then you're going to the clinic."
Jack was not in a particularly patient mood after a week of this nonsense.