An Early Night
Roleplaying Log: An Early Night
IC Details

After the events at the Met, Emma Frost comes home to be pampered by the incomparable Emery Papsworth. There's no place like home.

Other Characters Referenced: Tony Stark, Phil Coulson (Not by Name), Captain Marvel
IC Date: December 08, 2019
IC Location: Emma Frost's Penthouse - NYC
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 13 Dec 2019 06:18
Rating & Warnings: PG
Scene Soundtrack: None
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

As the registration debate in New York continues, it's perhaps not a surprise that things are a bit unsettled.

However, the hostage situation - darn well near a murder scene if not for intervening hero types - at the Metropolitan Museum of Art's special performance was a bit showy even by recent standards. New and unknown faces tangled with the likes of Tony Stark and Captain Marvel and Power Girl, and somewhere in the middle were the faces who really wanted to be nowhere near a camera.

She should have been home at 7 o'clock after an early 4:30 dinner reservation, but Emma Frost arrives home early. She canceled the pick-up with Alex, fairly certain that he wouldn't have been able to get through the wreck that was police presence near the museum. She's covered in fine debris from curled blonde hair to the rust-colored suede of her stiletto boots, and she came home in a car with Tony Stark - who has most certainly been on the FULL BAN list for the better part of months.

It's not been a great day.

Emery has a schedule for pick ups, deliveries, cleaning, shopping and etc when managing the affairs of a client. He even has a little bluetooth device in his ear as he bustles around the apartment, in case someone calls him threatening to quit or needing to ask for help not being fired. Emergency stuff.

This afternoon he's cleaning the freezer and fridge of the apartment. Yes, it has been emptied and he's wearing rubber gloves, black slacks, his button down white shirt hanging up with this coat in the closet and he's left in the black tank, leaving his muscular arms and tattoos exposed. Also, he's got his apron on, hair pulled back into a bun.

"I'm sorry, you said she's walking up now - yes. Thank you."

So he's lost the gloves and retrieved a clean robe and poured a glass of wine by the time he's opened the door. He looks the woman over with a quirk of an eyebrow and his lips part with a soft exhale. "Milady…"

The door opens for her and Emma looks up from where she'd been poking about for the keys to her door in her small purse. She doesn't know how Emery Papsworth does his magic - for she hasn't really gone to the effort of looking - but she is grateful when her butler is there waiting.

"Mister Papsworth," she sighs with a note of relief, closing her purse back up. Her mink stole is the only thing she's wearing that isn't covered in dust, although she's made an effort to get it off of her face at least. "Thank God."

She moves to slip inside and set her things down on the kitchen island. "I called Alex to tell him not to come get me from the concert," she explains. "The streets were a bloody zoo. He would have been seventy years old by the time he got to where I could have met him. Obviously," she says, with an outward sweep of her arms to show off the terrible death of her carefully manicured appearance which was once a beautiful composition of a asymmetrical sweater dress in winter white with her skinny brown belt and tan purse and rust boots, "dinner plans got cancelled."

Emery just steps forward to help her out of the Stole, and he is listening as he offers her the glass of wine. The visual scan is also something tinged in making sure she is okay physically. "I see Milady, why don't ye get cleaned up a bit. A fresh robe and pair of slippers are in the room, and I'll bring you fresh towels." He blinks a few times. "Are you okay?"

Emma takes the help from Emery, and her brain catches up with the state of the room and at least one passing thought goes to remembering that she really does have a very nice-looking bit of assistance. He'll find nothing wrong with her physically, aside from her headache. Naturally, her headache won't keep her from collecting up the glass of wine from his hand and setting it to her lips.

"I'm fine," she tells him after that first long, bracing sip is taken down. "Other than being far too close for comfort to those damned DPS agents. Tony was there. Brought me home."

There is a soft smile, with only a hint of a dimple as Emery steps aside…only offering an arm just in case it is needed. "Well ye 'ave the blessings of still looking dangerously ravishing even when dusted with debris." He nods towards the bedroom. "I'll get a nice cuppa on as well, Milady."

There is a flicker of concern though in his eyes. "Well, good, at least ye had a somewhat capable body shield just in case." He drawls softly. "I'm surprised though ye let him bring you home."

As the compliment is offered to her, Emma's lips quirk in a tired bit of amusement. "Some day, Mister Papsworth you're going to need to tell me if you only kissed the Blarney Stone, to have your way with words." Setting her glass down for a moment, the blonde leans against the island and starts unfastening her boots before she drags the dust in any further.

"I'm sure I'll live to regret the mistake with Tony, but my escort for the evening rather let it out while we were there that I was in attendance part way through the impromptu fireworks display. And you know how Stark can get." She shrugs. "But, if he's going to sit on that stupid registry, might as well make use of it. He talks big and fast, I go in and make it easier to miss me hanging around…"

She grunts softly as she pulls off her second boot, and then picks up her wine glass. "Everyone gets spared a great deal of trouble."

A finger jabs in Emery's direction, then. "Don't get any ideas about letting him back into the security exceptions."

Emery nods in quiet sympathy/empathy to the situation, just giving Emma a small smile and wink at the question about his relations with the Blarney Stone. "May or may not have shagged the person who put it there in the first place buuut…" He drawls jokingly.

But he just sighs softly. "I understand, and I mean him prancin' about in just a towel was a joy for both you and I, I'm sure. But ye know I'll support you in everyting that ye do."

"I do," Emma replies, and to that end there is a note of satisfaction in her voice for it. Certainly, she pays him well, but Emery Papsworth's dedication and loyalty is no less a prize for it. And she, being a woman of discriminating taste, guards it jealously.

She looks to him for a long moment as though she were to say something, but then just kills the glass in her hand instead. She sets the empty vessel on the counter delicately, and then stoops to pick up her boots. "Alright. Shower. I need one desperately so I can stop looking like a feather duster after a round with the maid."

She starts walking in the direction of her bedroom with a swaying step and her long boots slung over her shoulder. "And can you steep the chamomile? I'd kill for a cup."

Look, he's never going to be shy about watching Emma walk away. Slight tilt to his head and appreciative little nod to himself, Emery just chuckles to himself and clears his throat. "I'll get some chamomile on." And warm a couple of croissants and make a fruit bowl too but, there will be chamomile tea as well. Because he's good at his job.

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