Namor and Adrienne (Backdated)

[x-adrienne.livejournal.com]

Adrienne goes to talk to Namor in the medlab intending to defend Tandy after her unpleasant encounter with the man, but finds herself pondering whether to support his bid to become a king once again.

Tipping a fake hat to Jean as she passed the doctor, Adrienne headed over to Namor's bed. Jean already knew she was coming so there was no need to stop to chat. Maybe on the way out. For now, though, Adrienne didn't want to lose her focus. She wanted to find out more for herself about this guy. She'd enjoyed the company of the Namor she'd known previously, had respected his directness and confidence, so she was hoping that this version had those likeable qualities as well. But so far, all she knew about him was that he seemed to be pissing people off left and right. Did Tandy and Clint and the others just not know how to handle someone who was used to being revered and respected for the power he held over others? Or was the guy just a dick? Adrienne wanted to find out for herself.

"Hail, Namor the First, noble leader of Atlantis, she said with a respectful nod of her head when she saw the Atlantean, using some of the language she'd picked up when she'd put the trident's history in her head.

Namor, for his part, was rooting through some clothing the medlab had seen fit to give him. Most of the selection was, like Namor, a relic of the past. Hell, there was even a puffy vest. …

The man, currently giving a skeptical once over to a pair of jeans, gave Adrienne a double take. He met her eyes, questioning, and his tone was cautious. "Well met, citizen."

"Sorry, that's all I can manage without the accent sounding insulting," Adrienne admitted, switching to English. "Ugh. Donated clothes." She wrinkled her nose at the puffy vest. "If I'd known you were shopping for garments I would have brought you something more befitting of your station." It was fun to speak like she was in the Middle Ages.

"Your pronunciation was not demon slurred, so you are winning that game so far," Namor commented idly, "But perhaps you can explain how pants became the prevalent fashion. Pants." He shook his head with a look of disgust.

Well, he was talking to the right person for an answer to that question, at least. "Trousers, or pants if you prefer, became prevalent because they provide greater warmth than draped clothing." She nearly added a comment about how she would have thought that would have been obvious, but held her tongue. Maybe it wasn't obvious, since he didn't know much about this climate. "This climate necessitates the need for greater warmth during most seasons," she explained. "You've also woken up in a time period in which an increasing number of occupations are done from a sitting position behind desks in the view of others, so there is an element of modesty to wearing trousers as well."

"Modesty" and this was matched with a mighty scowl, "implies shame in one's own person. I disapprove."

He actually huffed, but shrugged the indignation off quickly to turn a critical eye toward Adrienne. "I stand at a disadvantage in this conversation, and that will not do. What are you called? Is it a name to match your beauty or your knowledge of local fashion? I imagine you have many poems and songs to your name. I would have it."

Adrienne grinned, incredibly flattered. This wasn't nearly as painful as she'd expected. She started to wonder what Tandy had done to come away from her meeting with Namor disliking him so much. "I am called Adrienne of the family Frost, CEO of Meridian Enterprises and employee of X-Factor Investigations. At your service, Namor the First," she curtseyed. "I wanted to come and let you know that I visited your trident. My mutant powers allow me to see the history of any object I touch. I'm sorry your sign of office is being kept away from you."

"Frost." He let the name hang there for a minute appreciatively, and likely wasn't anything Adrienne was unused to. "Very well met Adrienne Frost. That is a useful talent to boast of. You must be invaluable to this," and he waved his hand to indicate the entirety of the mansion, "establishment. The Trident of Neptune is mine. It may be only a piece of history now, but it is mine."

"Then I will do my utmost to ensure that it will be returned to you," Adrienne assured him with a smile. "As you may be becoming aware, this," she copied his hand-waving motion, "establishment is home to an extremely cautious lot, particularly when it comes to items that are not of the everyday. It's a pain in the ass a lot of the time," she admitted, "but unfortunately, such caution is becoming more and more necessary in this time and place. As to my value, it pleases me to use what I can do for the benefit of others. Even more so when I can profit from it. Most days, I find employment with a detective agency. I am rather good at it. For example, I detected that you believe your trident is 'only a piece of history.' Why do you believe this?"

"Atlantis is said to lay in ruins, and your scholars debate if it had even existed at all." His voice was completely flat. His eyes drifted to his hands, and his expression hardened. "Relics can still be deadly tools."

"Sure they can," Adrienne agreed with a nod. "And you and I, we know it existed. So the scholars can go fuck themselves. I'm sorry your guards betrayed you," she added in her usual speak-first, think-later fashion. "Hopefully you can take some comfort in the fact they would have died a hell of a long time ago."

Namor straightened and waved a hand dismissively. "No more of the past. Your sister in name put many useful ideas in my head, but I would like to know where she might choose to leave me ignorant." …

"Well, I don't know what she put into your head," Adrienne told him with a smirk, "so you'll have to tell me where you're still ignorant and I'll see what I can do. We've already covered pants; that's a good start, I think."

"It would be my pleasure to describe to you the amount of ignorance I have after being suspended in time for three thousand years," Namor replied without a hint of emotion. "My world is only within these walls."

"That's horrible," Adrienne sympathized. "When are they going to let you out? I mean, are you actually hurt? Because you seem pretty fine to me." She stared unabashedly at Namor's body.

If anything, he leaned toward the oogling like a cat stretching toward sunlight. "They treat me like a child with promises that I require proper grooming before experiencing a changed world. Like a man made of glass. Rest assured, if I did not see an advantage to this I would make my own way out."

Adrienne remembered when Vanessa had tried to break out of the medlab and smirked a little. It would be exciting to watch Namor try, she was sure. Unless this younger version of Jean wasn't as quick as her older self. Then maybe the Atlantean would actually stand a chance. "What's the advantage to staying here? I mean, other than the fact that the world outside this place would most likely be inhospitable towards someone such as yourself, what with fear and violence towards mutants in general, undead three-thousand-year-old kings from a mythical lost society in particular?" she asked wryly. At least, she imagined the general population would take offense to Namor. Or maybe they would worship him like they did so many rich, handsome weirdos. Especially if they didn't know he was a mutant.

Well, there were the ankle wings. Namor wasn't phased in the slightest, but he did give Adrienne a skeptical look in regard to her tone. "I am Homo Mermanus. Rightful King. I am not afraid of this future. Your people will bow or be left in my wake."

He paused. Considering.

"Even if this future involves pants."