For Emma, New Year's Eve was not something she cared to spend with others. New Year's was one of those nights that she shut herself up in her penthouse apartment and just drank herself into oblivion. No one would believe that the wonderful Emma Frost did that, but she did it simply because she needed some time for herself. New Year's was when Emma focused on Emma and, for a brief time, pretended no one else existed. There were no pressures from anyone and no one to share the bottle of champagne with. Sometimes, though, that was almost as horrible as all the pressures of a huge social life.
"Seven, six, five," Emma mumbled with the crowd she could hear through her open windows as she sipped from her glass. The bottle was almost empty, "Four, three, two, on--." Something hit her mind like a brick through a window. There were screams. Death. People who didn't know how to control their own minds were overloading her already drunken and uninhibited one. The bottle slipped from her left hand and crashed to the floor. Emma sat up straight and tried to focus. She'd dropped her own shields and now she had to try to re-establish them while in a drunken state. "Jesus Christ!" Emma covered her eyes as she cleared her mind and focused. What in the world was going on?!
It took a while, but she was finally able to stand and look out her windows. Her apartment was a long way from Times Square, but the psychic backlash and bright lights were easy to understand. She needed to find a way downstairs and see what the hell was up?