A Hellfire Harbor Cruise
Roleplaying Log: A Hellfire Harbor Cruise
IC Details

Emma Frost and Trish Walker finally make acquaintance at a Hellfire Club member's private event, thanks to Sebastian Shaw's maneuvering.

Other Characters Referenced:
IC Date: August 23, 2019
IC Location: New York City, NY
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 24 Aug 2019 13:42
Rating & Warnings: G
NPC & GM Credits: NPCs by Emma Frost
Associated Plots

The boat—named Charon's Chariot—was opened for boarding at the dock about twenty minutes ago. By Hellfire Club standards, it's a small party that board the luxury yacht with its pristine white coat of paint: about thirty people.

It waited patiently for the guest list to fill, Mark Elliot—the fifty year old man with salt and pepper hair and a fortune made in the investment game—was really in no hurry. After all, the crew was in place and the caterers had dropped off plenty of wine, spirits and hors d'oeuvres for his hired eye candy to pass out. Each name is checked off as bodies board, kept on a clipboard by private security on the dock.

Emma Frost made her way quietly aboard about fifteen minutes ago in a white halter top that barely covered anything at all, over a gauzy white skirt and a pair of flat sandals. She graced the arm of one Sebastian Shaw, draped with a closeness that speaks of familiarity. The broad man promptly found a prominent place to sip his scotch, in a half-unbuttoned white shirt and a surprisingly casual pair of black slacks.

They mingle, of course, as people mill through, although Emma's eye wanders a bit. There's a giggling trio of young women who have already taken to occupying the yacht's topside pool, and the sound of their giddiness blends with the jazz music that plays over the boat's speakers.

There's always a choice to make of what to wear, or rather not wear, to events such as these put on by members of the Club. And usually the less the better. Putting little thought into it, Trish Walker puts on a bright red tight, form fitting dress, reminiscent of what she wore in her I Want Your Cray Cray video, along with matching bright red stiletto heels. Her hair is let down, wavy. She carries with her a small purse.

Upon checking in, she makes her way onto the boat, heels click-clacking ever so slightly. As she boards the boat, she adjusts her dress ever so slightly, still leaving barely anything to the imagination, as she finds her way to the bar.

"I'll have an Old Fashioned please." She's about to turn around, let the bartender due their thing, when she catches their attention again. "Why not make it a double. Thank you." She's out to have a good time. Might as well start early, right?

As the bartender works, she looks around to see who all is here. Or at least, who around this part of the boat.

Of course, nestled in among some older members, the younger ones will get attention. Particularly when the younger members are the variety of Emma Frost or Trish Walker. Of course, Emma has been cornered in her current arrangement as Shaw's eye candy, while Trish is not so occupied. The bartender smiles winsomely, and makes a little bit of an extra show of putting her drink together, before handing it off. He winks at her, tells her to not stay too long.

With a surprising accuracy, perhaps, the boat's owner finishes his conversation with a trio of his guests and makes his way towards the new blood. After all, that's what a good host does, isn't it?

"Miss Walker," he greets, his tone even but his smile is decidedly predatory as he holds out his hand. "So glad you could make the party tonight. I'm Mark Elliot."

"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind." Trish offers the bartender a smile. As she takes her first sip, before even leaving the bar, she's approached. She nods to the host, smiling. Is it a polite smile? Is it genuine? Perhaps it's a bit of both. "Mr. Elliot." He doesn't miss the look on his face, however. It's one she has seen many a time. "It's a pleasure."

She holds out her own hand to Mark's. "I thank you for your invite. It was quite kind of you." She glances around quickly. "It's quite the lovely vessel you have, as well." She offers another smile.

Taking another sip of her drink, she tilts her head. "It's rather quite generous of you, opening up this space for a get together. It speaks well of you as a person." She offers him a little wink.


"Oh," Elliot replies, his grin only growing. "Well, after Shaw started singing your praises, I confess that I wanted to see what the fuss was about." He glances up briefly to the bartender, as he demands, "Double whiskey, neat." Then, now that the order is placed, he turns his attention back to the blonde radio personality.

His attention - and his amusement - only intensifies as the boat pulls away from the dock. No escape now.

"My daughter was a fan of yours when she was younger. For the longest time, Miss Walker, you were quite the household commodity."

"Ah, yes. Mr. Shaw." Trish lets out a soft chuckle. "It's kind of him to speak of me so kindly." She leans back against the bar, looking over at her host with interest. "A whiskey man, hmm? Good choice. It's part of why I like an Old Fashioned so much." She says as she raises her own glass. "Nothing quite like a whiskey to enhance one's evening."

She feels the jostle of the ship as it moves away from the dock. The movement of the ship itself is not unexpected. This is all on course for the evening. Quite literally. She can't help wonder at her host's own personal agenda, however. Particularly with his seemingly keen interest on her. However, it's also not entirely surprising. Especially considering the various proclivities of the Club's members.

"An It's Patsy fan, huh?" She smiles. "Every day I came onto the television sets of families around the country, it's true." She takes a big sip of her drink. "I like to think I helped brighten up many a home."

Trish might feel quite like the creature on exhibit, particularly as she looks around. So many of the club members seem to know each other, cheating amiably in other corners of the party, and watching her from their peripheral vision or in stolen glances. "She was," Mark says of what feels like a long gone era. "Although, there was a time that I was certainly ready to throw the television overboard. Can't argue with the branding, though. Brilliant marketing campaign."

It's about that time that the infamous Mister Shaw notices that his recommendation has come aboard and he makes his way in that direction with the white-wrapped blonde at his side lingering near his elbow. "Ah!" he says, his deep voice rumbling over the deeper sound of the motor. "Miss Walker. So glad to see you were able to take Mister Elliot up on his invitation. Couldn't ask for a better night for a cruise, hm?" His hand reaches out for hers, even as he hooks his other thumb on the pocket of his slacks.

Another chuckle emits from Trish as she looks down at her drink. "Well, I wouldn't blame you if you did. But then, I suppose I should be thankful that you didn't." She looks back up at him, shrugging slightly. "You would have had to deal with an upset daughter who was unable to watch this amazingly stunning face." She uses her free hand to make a circular motion around her face.

"Great marketing team, though, yes. And the show itself opened up many more great opportunities for myself, I must admit." She grins. "Fame and funds certainly have their benefits."

When she hears her name again, her attention turns. She finds herself faced with none other than Sebastian Shaw. "Mr. Shaw! How lovely to see you." She accepts his hand and shakes. "I must thank you for speaking of me so kindly to Mr. Elliot here." She motions her glass to said Mr. Elliot. "It's a lovely affair to be invited to."

She offers a smile to the blonde with Sebastian Shaw. "Hello. I'm Trish Walker." She introduces, hoping that it's not too forward of her to do so.

The shake of his hand earns an amused smile from Shaw, his hand encompassing Trish's and dwarfing it, but then the woman is already moving on to introduce herself to the rest of the group. "Miss Walker," he tells her, "Please allow me to introduce you to my colleague, Miss Frost."

Emma's hand slides forward, slender and cool and a complete contrast to the heavy and warm one that Shaw offered. "A pleasure to meet you in person, Miss Walker," she offers in a soft murmur of syllables. "And so pleased you could come to enjoy my company's handiwork. Mister Elliot commissioned a beautiful yacht, didn't he?" Her attention turns to him next, her hand extending towards the investor.

He takes it and, after a quick smirk, sets his lips against her knuckles. "And it was worth every penny that you robbed me for it," he teases her back.

Emma draws her hand back, draping it across her breastbone. "Robbed?" she asks, patently amused. "Encouraged you to invest in yourself," she counters. And then she leans in to Trish. "He protests, but you'll catch him in the next breath with the next person bragging about the price tag and how he got away with such a steal. I mean, truly, can you put a price tag on happiness?"

"Miss Frost…oh yes, Frost Industries, isn't it?" Trish nods, as she shakes the woman's hand. "You've been in the news lately. You're quite the busy bee." She giggles softly. "This is quite the beautiful yacht." She notes, looking around. "And, if it's the type of work to expect from your company, perhaps I should be coming to you for a yacht of my own, hmm?" She smiles, though the smile is quickly hidden behind her glass as she takes a sip of her drink.

"Oh, my dear Mr. Elliot, robbed? I find it a little hard to believe," she says, motioning around, "that anything this gorgeous could be considered stealing, regardless of price." She chuckles, guessing at his words being more playful than truthful.

She quirks an eyebrow and grins at Emma. At the 'price tag on happiness' comment, she can't help but think of what truly makes her happy in life, her friends and family. A flash of Jessica coming to mind. She shakes her head. "No, I don't believe you really can put a price tag on happiness. You're quite right, Miss Frost."

"Frost International," Emma corrects without heat. "On to bigger and better things. But yes. We just acquired Takahashi Enterprises. I'm not sure yet how I feel about Metropolis, but it's nice to have all of the paperwork final on the deal." Her lips tug unevenly as she continues. "So, if you can afford the price tag, I think you should certainly consider a commission of your own in the next year or two, Miss Walker. I'm not quite sure what the production schedule looks like right now."

As the boat cuts out into wider part of the river, there is a certain eye that might feel like it's sailing out onto a lake of fire. The sky is swiftly shifting to orange, and the grey water catches it in every ripple and wave.

As Trish's thoughts turn towards family, towards Jessica Jones, Emma's demeanor shifts ever-so-subtly. She sips a little of the moscato d'asti in her glass, and then brushes a few stray locks from her face as the boat picks up speed. You're quite right, Trish agrees. "I usually am," Miss Frost quips back with assurance.

That draws a chuckle from Shaw and Elliot, but then Sebastian turns his attention on his host in particular. "Mark, might I have a private word?"

There's a nod, and then the older tycoon turns to lead the way below deck with a murmured begging of pardon. It leaves the two women alone for a moment. "So," Emma says after a beat and another sip of wine. "Mister Shaw tells me that you've made quite the splash at the club. I'm glad that you're enjoying it as much as we do."

"Right, yes. Of course. My apologies. By 'you', I should have specified more particularly that your company was in the news." Trish clucks and shakes her head. "I should know better. I'm paid to be precise…in a way." At least, she's not paid to spread rumors. When she reports stories or has guests, she prides herself on precision.

"Maybe I should speak with someone from Frost International, get an idea of what would best suit me." Trish agrees, nodding. "It would make sense to see what's available."

As she glances toward the windows for a moment, catching sight of the sun on the water, she turns back to Emma. Did she catch the change in demeanor? It's hard to say. She does tilt her head ever so slightly. "It's always nice to meet another woman who happens to know what she's talking about." She chuckles softly. As Sebastian asks to speak with Mark in private, she gives them a wink and says, "Don't be a stranger now, boys."

Back to Emma, she nods. "I like to think that, every now and then, I know how to make a…well, a name for myself. It just so happens that as of late, that included catching the eye of Mr. Shaw, it would seem."

"So it would seem," Emma replies, her gaze one of a subtle appraisal. Her thoughts wrap around Trish's own as she sets herself to work. Being gone for so long, it has left the telepath at a distinct disadvantage, and she doesn't like it. She doesn't like not knowing what Sebastian Shaw has been up to. She doesn't need—nor want— to know the more intimate details of his comings and goings, but to know if there are alliances in the making… That is useful intelligence. Particularly if he thinks to exclude her.

"Well, Mister Shaw has always had a very clear understanding of his own tastes. And what is our little club for if one is not at liberty to pursue them, hm? Make an appointment with my sales team, and I'm certain they would love to have a conversation with you. They'll help tailor to your tastes, too."

There are various flashes that come and go through Trish's mind. Introductions made to the older, higher up class of the club. Promises made. But also more flashes of her personal and professional lives. A few more images and thoughts of her sister, Jessica Jones. There are brief thoughts about abilities…her own abilities.

If the blonde radio talkshow host knew that the other blonde was telepathic, she may have attempted to keep a lid on her thoughts. But such is the life of a talkshow host, your mind is often moving at a million miles an hour. There's always something near the surface, personal or otherwise, that's intruding on her being.

"Our club is quite wonderful for that, isn't it? Helping us pursue that which we so desire? Back when I first joined, I couldn't believe how easy my desires were taken care of. But I was also quite young. Now I'm a bit older, I'm a little more thankful to the Club for my desire being taken care of."

If Trish Walker, famous tv and radio personality, knew that Emma Frost was an unregistered telepath, there might be a different set of events plotted out for the near future. Even the other woman's own secreted away abilities doesn't mitigate the fact that Emma really despises when her affairs become public. The careful cultivation of a public life makes for the perfect veil to obscure her private one, and it suits her very well.

Fortunately for all involved, Walker doesn't know.

That leaves Frost at liberty to simply remain concerned about just how many promises were made while she wasn't around to keep tabs.

"As are we all. Something has to make it worth the price of admission," Frost offers back, her eyebrows bouncing once emphatically. There's something in her tone that makes the sentiment a little more than superficial amusement or genuine gratitude. Something darker. But then she sees, from the corner of her eye, as Shaw comes up from below just long enough to gesture in her direction. Her smile becomes once more the polished and perfect variety, as she nods once in his direction and then turns to Trish. "If you'll excuse me? It would seem that I am being summoned."

It's quite common, especially for those whose lives are a bit more public, to desire extra protection of their private lives. It would seem that both Trish and Emma are similar in this. As Trish takes a slow sip of her drink, nearly finishing it off, she glances back to the bartender and motions for another.

She grins at Emma. "I certainly do agree. And the Club does well on making it all worthwhile." She finishes off her drink in time for a new one to be delivered. She raises it to Emma and nods. "Of course. May you have a rather…pleasant evening, Miss Frost. I look forward to meeting you again."

To the boozy salute, Emma lifts up her flute in kind. "Likewise, Miss Walker. Do enjoy the sunset for me, hm?"

And with that, Emma turns and sways her way across the deck to meet Shaw, her clothes whipping in the breeze as the expensive yacht with its darkly stained plank floors settles into its brisk clip under the steady hand of the man who captains it. When she reaches the steps down, she takes Shaw's hand to descend.

…Leaving Trish Walker with a handful of barely legal party girls in a pool and a deck full of some of New York's most influential deviants, all basking in the same fiery glow of the dying sunrise.

It's going to be a wonderful night.

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