Stamford Transportation Center - Track #3
December 24, 2011
Stamford Transportation Center - Track #3
"Wow. I think her tongue is actually touching your daughter's tonsils."
"Shut up, Jean."
"Seriously, look at the two of them go. I'd love to get Faith into the lab so I can test her lung capacity and oxygen extraction rate. Actually… can I run a few tests on Esme when we get home? Because she's holding her own pretty well."
"For the love of God, woman, stop talking!" Emma's snarled words just made Jean laugh louder and the blonde huffed before looking away. That proved to be a bad decision, as her eyes were inevitably drawn back to the spectacle that had her in such a bad mood in the first place. While four of her daughters had seen fit to depart the Nor'easter
with minimal fuss - five if she counted Rachel - Esme was evidently intent on making a more memorable exit. Thankfully they were doing it in the privacy of the train and not out on the platform where Emma could hear the other girls giving non-answers to the paparazzi's numerous questions, but still. No mother wanted to see something like this. Ever. Her attention drifted back over to Jean, and she scowled at the look of amusement on the redhead's face. "Shouldn't you be offended by this too? She's your step-daughter. Or will be someday."
Jean looked from Emma to the two white-clad teenagers and back before smirking. "Mmm. Looks like I might end up with Faith as a daughter-in-law, too. Or maybe not. I wonder if Celeste said goodbye earlier or if Faith's narrowing her focus? Because if it's just Faith and Esme, they could get married eventually and Faith would then be my daughter-in-law. If it's still Faith and Celeste and Esme, then… well, I suppose one sister could marry Faith and share her with the other, but the three of them would probably just live in sin together." The blonde shuddered at Jean's musings, making the redhead laugh again before wrapping one arm around Emma's waist. "Although… aren't you getting a bit ahead of yourself? Right now, they're just two of my friend's five daughters. I'm pretty sure having a 'glad mine aren't like that' laugh every now and then is an essential part of motherhood."
The latter half of Jean's commentary was just what Emma needed to distract herself from her daughter's misbehavior. "Oh? So I'm just a friend now?" Glancing down at the arm Jean had wrapped around her waist, the blonde raised an eyebrow. "I don't think I've ever seen you treat Ororo like this. Or… hmm. The three of us are the only women at Xavier's, aren't we? Maybe we should take to Charles about recruiting more so things are less of a… what was Miss Braddock's lovely phrase? Sausage party?"
"Oh please, like you hadn't heard and used that phrase before Betsy said it within earshot. Stop blaming your bad habits on your students. And including Charles, there are five male professors and three female. Sixty-two/thirty-eight is hardly a sausage party. You need eighty/twenty or worse for that." Jean tapped her fingers against Emma's hip a few times before pulling the blonde a bit closer. "And unlike you, I hug people on a regular basis. I've hugged Ororo before. Should I be insulted that you don't pay enough attention to me to notice it?"
Rather than take offense, Emma grinned at the redhead's words. While it was a bit late in coming, Jean was finally learning how to enjoy a bit of verbal sparring without letting things devolve into an outright argument. Splendid. "So, do you like to crawl into Ororo's bed too?" She wasn't even going to bring up the fact that not only had Jean stopped complaining about Emma's tendency to sleep in the nude, but had started indulging in it herself as of late… if only to combat the mysterious disappearing underwear phenomenon that was eating through the redhead's underwear drawer at an alarming pace.
Jean, much to her surprise, looked thoughtful rather than embarrassed at the question. "No, but now I'm pondering it. We do laundry together a lot and her sheets are amazingly soft. Not to mention that it'd shorten my commute to our daily meditation sessions in her suite's living room…"
"You meditate with her in the morning?" Emma eyed Jean uncertainly; the redhead's shields had improved markedly over the last month or so, and it becoming increasingly difficult to tell whether or not Jean was lying to her. "How did I not know about this?"
"Hell if I know. Aren't you supposed to be the 'superior telepath'?"
"Touché." Emma glanced back over at her daughter, cringed, and then returned her attention to Jean. "So, are you going to ask Ororo to pose for you too?"
After thinking about that for a moment, Jean shrugged. "Not sure. Maybe. Why? Jealous?" Considering Jean didn't actually draw - or paint or sculpt or partake in any other sort of artistic hobby - and would therefore just be sitting there ogling Ororo? A bit, yes. Looking away, Jean brought her free hand up to her head, pressing two fingers against her temple. Considering the girls hadn't reacted to their ongoing conversation, switching to telepathy was probably a good idea. 'Amtrak was nice enough to make a slightly extended station stop because of us but this is pushing it, girls. Wrap it up so we can get going.'
Unwrapping her legs from around Faith's waist, Esme dropped to stand on her own two feet as she glared back over her shoulder at the two adults while Faith just seemed amused by it all. Much to Emma's surprise, though, Faith didn't try to goad Esme into further misbehavior. Reaching up, she took Esme's chin in her hand and gently guided the blonde to look her way. "I don't mind pissing them off because I don't need to live with them. You do. Don't worry; I peeked at a few of my presents to see what Princess Di bought for me and there's a cell phone in there. I've got your number; I'll give you a call as soon as I unwrap it. And then Celeste. Just cuz you gave me a better goodbye." Ah. Well, that answered that question. Esme's glare became a pout but she nodded, offering Faith one last peck on the lips before backing away. Chuckling, Faith wandered over and dropped onto the couch between Tara and Carol before waving cheerfully. "Ladies. It's been fun."
Emma scowled as she watched Faith put her feet up on the coffee table. "Yes. 'Fun'. Let's go with that." Esme and Jean drifted past and Emma turned to join them, only to pause as she realized there was one final item of business still left unfinished. "Oh, and I got an email from one of my students last night. Miss Phimister wants me to tell you that the answer is 'the white Bronco'."
"The answer to what?"
"I neither know nor do I care. I sent a reply assuring that I would pass on the message for her, and now I have. Goodbye and good riddance." Emma chose to ignore the rude gesture Faith shot her way, stalking out of the car and stepping off onto the concrete station platform. She found herself slamming into Jean's back as the unprepared redhead tried to retreat from the swarming paparazzi, question after question being hurled at them. They were given a brief respite as two loud blasts of the engine's horn drowned the photographers out, allowing Emma to touch Jean's mind briefly and offer reassurance before shifting into her diamond form. "Shoving my way through the paparazzi became so much easier after I discovered I was a transmorph…"
That earned her a smile and a soft laugh from Jean, who reached down to give Emma's hand a brief squeeze. "Well then, Miss Battering Ram. Shove away. I'll be right behind you."
"Yet another person in my life who just wants to use me. What a surprise. Although usually when a person wants me to walk in front of them, it's so they have an excuse to stare at my ass."
"You're wearing a long coat, Emma. I can't."
"But you would if I wasn't?"
"I'm conflicted about my romantic future, Emma, not blind. The dress you're wearing under there… it's like you've got twenty pounds of ass in a five pound bag." Emma's jaw dropped and Jean's cheeks suddenly became far rosier than the chilly air could account for. "Can we pretend I didn't say that?"
Emma grinned as she shifted back to normal, pulling off her ushanka and plopping it down atop Jean's head before running her fingers through her own hair a few times to detangle it. "Next time, you should go with 'Vous avez vingt litres de postérieur dans un cinq sac de litre'. Everything sounds classier in French. Hold out your other arm. " Pulling her hand out of Jean's, she shrugged out of her coat and looped it over the provided arm before turning away, returning to her glittering diamond form. "Lucky for you, the cold doesn't bother me in this form. Let's go."
Stalking forward, Emma nodded in approval as her daughters immediately shifted into their own transmorph forms and formed a barrier around Jean and Rachel, allowing them to force their way through the crowd of photographers to freedom. As they drew closer to the elevator that would take them up to the walkway that crossed above the tracks, Esme called out to her from her spot a step behind and to Emma's left. "So, Mother…"
"When's the next Bruins home game? Can we go?"
"…never and no."