Emma and Adrienne - Frost Enterprises, Telepathic Sex, Marriage, etc.

[x-adrienne.livejournal.com]

The Frost sisters spend an evening drinking and discussing business and pleasure.

“There’s busy,” said Emma, curling her long, long legs beneath her and settling back on the couch, “and there’s whatever happened to me over the last year or so. Deciding to reorganise Frost Industries, getting that avionics contracts, the fact the Blue Queen decided I was her personal go-to telepath fixer just as half the European telepaths chose to go mad and deciding to gut and rebuild my apartment all at the same time. Ugh. And then pirates. Really, pirates. With eye patches and a parrot honest-to-goodness pirates.” She sighed and leaned back for a moment, closing her eyes before her hand reached out unerringly to collect her cognac glass. “I’m fairly certain I don’t even recognise half of the students at the school these days. Other than Clint and Sue. And I haven’t spent nearly enough time with them.”

"Don't feel bad about that. I still have a hard time, and I'm one of the teachers," Adrienne quipped with a shrug, sipping conservatively from her own glass. "All I know is that they're all much more mature than I am, which makes them scary. Also... I know you've gotten into a lot of weird shit in your life, but I'm not sure if I believe there was actually a parrot. Pics or it didn't happen," she prompted with a smirk. "Or, thanks to my powers, Reading or it didn't happen."

“Adrienne, darling,” replied Emma, kindly. “Not all of the time, but some of the time, there are golden retriever puppies that are more mature than you.” She grinned at Adrienne’s upturned middle finger. “Just think of it as part of your charm.” With a light telepathic touch, she reached out to Adrienne’s mind and provided a swift download of her adventures in the South Seas. “Really, a parrot. It’s not just weapons - they make a lot of money from smuggling endangered species and apparently the captain took rather a shine to one of the macaws. And the eye patches were – well, it’s been a rough few years for pirates. I didn’t have time to properly investigate but I’m fairly certain the parrot didn’t say “pieces of eight”. That counts for something in the normality stakes, doesn’t it? I was also going to say that no-one mentioned Davy Jones’s locker but I suspect that may have been precluded by nationality.”

"I think the normalcy stakes would be higher if no one mentioned rum, but I can see from the Mental ViewFinder that you lost out on that one," Adrienne smirked. "Did you rescue the macaws? Is animal rescue a new Frost family pasttime? I rescued a cat and now it lives with Garrison because it's magical which means it gets around door locks and Amanda won't let us set it on fire." She didn't add the fact that she'd put the cat out in the rain in the first place which was why it needed rescuing, but since she was thinking it, and drinking cognac meant she wasn't shielding, Emma now knew that part of the story without Adrienne having to say it.

“There were people,” Emma waved her hand, vaguely. “Customs or some equivalent thereof. There may even have been a parrot wrangler. This was serious official government business, Adrienne. I had a badge. Or a pass. There was a lanyard, anyway.” She grinned at the look Adrienne was giving her. “I get a lot of favours out of governments. Or Frost Enterprises does. Sometimes it’s important to pay the favours back. Even if I did make them take the lanyard back and find me something more stylish.” She shuddered lightly. “Though at one point I did have to wear espadrilles. Thankfully I was in the middle of the sea and I’ve erased the memory of everyone else on the boat, so I think I may get away with it.” She took a sip of her cognac with a theatrical flourish. “I never would have taken Garrison for a cat person,” she added. “More perhaps a moose person. Or was that Wade? Is there still a moose on the grounds? And a pig? There was a pig, yes? Or possibly a llama? Yak? Elephant? Small one?”

Adrienne chuckled at Emma's list of animals. "There's a veritable zoo, Em," she agreed, wrinkling her nose. "It's terrifying." She sipped at her drink once again. "So how did the reorganization of Frost Enterprises go? Were you able to create the employment opportunities in the new division like you were hoping?" Her tone was casual, conversational, that of a woman who'd finally gotten comfortable with her own lot in life and could take an interest in her sibling's business without bitterness or jealousy.

“Mmm-hmm,” Emma confirmed, letting her eyes drift closed again as she relaxed for what felt like the first time in a long time. “I needed to shake up our electronics sector; they were all caught up in old thinking and we were going to get left behind. The whole market is going to shift into renewables in a big way in the next few years and I want to get in early on that. We pulled in a whole bunch of graduates, took over Purecell and integrated it in and sent a whole bunch of our engineers and project managers back to school. We should be ready to bid on and win some really big government contracts soon now that everything’s starting to shift. Did I tell you I bought a Tesla?” Emma suddenly leaned forward and smiled. “It’s really quite deliciously lovely. Doesn’t make a sound.” Her smile broadened into a grin. “You’d have too much fun with it; beeping the horn and frightening people who haven’t heard you coming.”

Adrienne had follow-up questions about Frost Enterprises, but they were momentarily pushed to the back of her head by Emma's announcement about the car. "Ooo! I totally would! But I'm sure the temptation to run over people I don't like because they can't hear me coming would be too high. In fact, I wonder if the FBI would somehow intervene if I ever tried to buy one. Did you get the Model S or Model X?" Adrienne shifted to a more comfortable position on the couch while trying to keep her broken leg elevated, her eyes wide with excitement. "Also, is it white? Or did you deviate from your signature colour to go with something not-boring?"

“Model S. Model X is a hatchback.” Emma couldn’t make her contempt for even the concept of a hatchback any clearer. “Though,” Emma turned her eyes on her sister’s cast and her voice turned teasing, “perhaps some of us need a hatchback. Once one can’t handle things like speed and balance, a nice safe, comfortable vehicle with lots of airbags might be just what one needs...”

Reaching over for one of her crutches, Adrienne faked taking a swing at Emma but then set the crutch down and threw a pillow at her for real. "There was glass on the road," she muttered through gritted teeth in the tone of someone who was starting to get a little weary of dealing with the good-natured teasing of everyone around her about her prowess with the bike. "I. Didn't. See. It. Although," she added with a thoughtful look, "y'know what? I'll take the hatchback remark. Because hatchbacks are also cars for college kids. And I will not complain if you're insinuating that I'm nineteen with a hatchback while you're an old lady with your sedan and your boring white Stalker Car."

“Some of us grow out of the need to fumble around in the back seats of cars with their boyfriends,” said Emma, raising an amused eyebrow at Adrienne as she reached down and plucked the pillow up from the floor at her feet. “Though I’m waiting for them to come up with another Roadster...” Emma wasn’t particularly enamoured of cars but that didn’t stop the smallest trace of longing appearing in her voice. “And white is never boring. It’s every colour. And none. It is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.” If there were times when Emma really didn’t take herself seriously, it was when she was with Adrienne.

"...Inside a chicken, inside a duck, inside a turkey?" Adrienne carried on, eyebrow raised, struggling to keep a straight face. "Also, how do you grow out of that need?" She sounded shocked. "You realize that makes it sound like you're admitting that you grew out of the need to have really impulsive, anywhere-we-are-works-for-me sex, right? Which really makes you sound like an old lady. In fact, it makes it sound like I should be donating money to a charity for you. There may have to be a telethon. And you may possibly have to return your Frost Family ID card."

“Telepath, dear.” Emma smiled, just a little dreamily. “I can have wild, crazy, right here, right now, passionate, no holds barred sex in the back seat of the car and I don’t even need to change gears. Or be in the car. I might have to get Sandrine to put that in my schedule... Or maybe during the next budget meeting when the accountants are telling me about the accountancy things that seem to fascinate them so much.”

Adrienne gave Emma a confused look. "No way. I'm not buying that. It's not the same. You can't think sex," she murmured incredulously. "It's not the same," she repeated. "You have to feel sex. Sex is contact. With another person. Otherwise it's just... porn." She still had her face scrunched up in thought, trying to figure out if Emma was bullshitting her or if telepaths really could have telepathic sex.

“If you weren’t so intertwined with your Canadian, I’d tell you to go find a telepath and ask them to show you. I’d show you, except you’re my sister and even I’m not that uninhibited about the social mores. Or the fact that it would be truly, truly strange.” Emma frowned. “But yes, you can either go the full-on, interactive, all the graphics and sound cards installed immersive telepathic experience or you can just do straight stimulation of the pleasure centres. Contact is lovely, I agree, but sometimes you just don’t want to muss your hair.”

Enlightenment dawned on Adrienne's face as her sister explained, and when Emma mentioned mussed hair, her eyes went wide. "Daaaamn. That would be great. Now I'm jealous. You win. Jerk." She threw another pillow. "As tempting as that sounds, however, I am quite intertwined with my Canadian, and the mussed hair is always worth it with him. Besides, my mental state's precarious enough as it is. I don't want to mess with it by having TelepathicPornSex." After sipping her drink, she gave Emma a smirk. "And fantasizing about people the non-telepathic way still works for me. Although," she added, smirk dissolving into a frown, "it would work better if everyone in my life besides the Canadian wasn't a student of mine and therefore un-fantasize-able. Can I come see your rejiggered electronics sector and stare at the new graduates you hired?"

“Well,” drawled Emma, leaning back onto the couch again. “So long as it’s not the first step in a nefarious plan to undermine my control of the company, seize my assets in a stunning sororal coup and have me recommitted to the asylum – yes. You can come visit. Probably the research lab in Nevada would be best. I would suggest a road trip but, quite frankly, I’m road tripped out at the moment. And sea tripped out and possibly flight tripped out.”

"I'm flattered you think I'm capable of doing that," Adrienne responded. "But I think we both know I'm a shitty fucking mastermind. Except when I set up Wyngarde. That was pretty cool. He was soooo pissed." She scratched the back of her calf under her cast and took another sip of her drink. "If you don't want to go by car or plane- and, sorry to say, but I don't think a boat is really gonna do much for us- how do you suggest we'd get to Nevada, then? Hop a Greyhound bus and hope to have lessons on discovering our inner beauty with a group of friendly misfits who sing about letting ourselves sing? Or does that still count as a road trip? I'm not really sure how that term works." Adrienne wasn't really a 'road trip' kind of person, so the concept was rather foreign to her.

“In your current state of infirmity,” replied Emma, “I believe your only option for a road trip is to put you on one of those mobility scooters and let you putter your way westwards and I can meet you there. I’ll even buy you a big orange flag to keep you safe. Maybe even orange plastic pants and a dayglo vest.”

"I do hear that orange is the new black. Still..." Adrienne waited a couple seconds, thoughtful look on her face, examining the pillow she'd picked up. Then she sprang on her good leg off her couch and onto Emma's, leaning into Emma to try and squash her sister, hitting her with the pillow repeatedly.

It normally would probably have something more like an even fight, but between Adrienne’s broken leg and the fact that Emma had instinctively switched to diamond form as soon as she was attacked, Emma was able to subdue her sister in a reasonably short space of time, pulling Adrienne almost into her lap and holding her arms until Adrienne had no choice but to drop the pillow she was helplessly flailing at nothing. Emma held herself in diamond form until Adrienne grumpily gave in and stopped wriggling and, when she was certain she wasn’t going to get a sneaky backwards headbutt to the nose, Emma finally switched back to flesh. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll fly you over there on my private jet and you can even bring the Canadian if you want. We can spend an evening with you behaving completely outrageously in Vegas and offending everyone you feel like and then you can come look at the lab. Though if you get married in Vegas by a man dressed as Elvis, it’s possible I may never forgive you.”

"Em," Adrienne murmured, still half in Emma's lap but making no attempt to leave, "if I ever get married again, I'm going to need you to kill me. Because I've been possessed. By an alien. Probably one who is on a mission to get impregnated by a Canadian Mountie FBI Agent so it can repopulate its decimated species with super hot, clever aliens who have unfortunate taste in alien sports teams. And if you don't kill me, the GarrisonAliens will take over our planet and turn us all into poutine-making slaves. Seriously. This is what me getting married again will bring about. You have to promise me you'll kill me if I ever get married. Promise meeeeee," she added in her best impression of a creepy death-rattle-from-the-movies voice, flailing her arms and leaning back against Emma as if she were dying.

Emma frowned. “It’s the poutine,” she declared, after a pause. “I’d probably let you stay in your happy zombie Stepford wife alien baby-machine mode if it worked for you, but I couldn’t inflict that much poutine on a world that has suffered enough already. So yes. Yes, Adrienne, I promise to kill you if ever you get married again. Or fall off your motorbike again.” Emma leaned forward slightly and gently kissed her sister’s dark hair. “I love you, little sister,” she said in a voice as light and clear and breakable as glass. “Don’t go round getting yourself killed or I shall be very cross at you indeed. And I’m a truly world-class criminal mastermind, so we all know that would end badly.”

Adrienne pursed her lips and cocked an eyebrow, nodding in acquiescence of her sister's criminal mind. "Duly noted." She was radiating happy, awash-with-sisterly-love vibes from the hair-kiss and thoughts that far better expressed her feelings for Emma than anything she could put into words, so she left them in her head for Emma to read and decided to ruin the sappy moment by giving her sister's cheek a long, slow lick. "Love you too, sis."

Emma’s left eyebrow raised so dramatically that it almost had the majestic grandeur of a flag-raising ceremony. “I can see what Garrison sees in you,” she said, rippling the skin on her cheek to diamond as she wiped it gently dry. “Your charm, your savoir-faire, the way you live your life by the rules set out so clearly by Emily Post...” She settled back slightly. “My birthday is soon and I’ve managed not to be here for a few of them. How about we disgrace ourselves in Vegas for my birthday?”

"Absolutely," Adrienne agreed happily. "I've been acting far too classy lately and as you just witnessed, my self-control is beginning to crumble anyway. If it's gonna go, it might as well go in a place where whatever we do there has to stay there."

“Vegas it is.” Emma managed to reach around Adrienne to her glass and raised it in a solemn toast. “Considering how I feel about it, may it not survive the Frosts.”