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Who: Emma Frost and Robbie Baldwin
What: Emma extended an invitation in Robbie's journal. He's taking her up on it. As to what happens next? It's anyone's guess.
When: April 25, 1 pm
Where: Sarah's, a greasy spoon restaurant in Hell's Kitchen
Rating/Warnings: None, really
Status: Closed; complete
Robbie felt awkward sitting at the corner table in a restaurant so dirty that even the cheap paper menus had grease spots on them. He knew that he looked no better with the knit cap pulled over his head, matched by layers of clothing that were ripped and worn. He'd spent hours the night before in a gas station bathroom trying to clean himself up but it never did any good. If people thought Robbie looked like a homeless bum--well, that's because, most of the time, he was.
He straightened up, fussing with the silverware on the table and setting it properly. There wasn't much he could do with the menus or with the atmosphere but he swept the table as best he could with a paper napkin. He didn't know much about Emma Frost but something about the way that she wrote reminded him of home.
What does she want from this? he thought to himself as he shrugged off his coat, hanging it off the chair. I bet she doesn't show. I bet it's just a joke to her. Robbie turned his thoughts to the Brotherhood then. Magneto's gone haywire lately. Christ, I wonder if he really is going to run us all over the country. I don't get it. He's got money for that but he can barely help me get a meal. I ought to stop but I think he's got the right idea, at heart. He just don't care about the people doing the work and how different is that from anybody else?
What: Emma extended an invitation in Robbie's journal. He's taking her up on it. As to what happens next? It's anyone's guess.
When: April 25, 1 pm
Where: Sarah's, a greasy spoon restaurant in Hell's Kitchen
Rating/Warnings: None, really
Status: Closed; complete
Robbie felt awkward sitting at the corner table in a restaurant so dirty that even the cheap paper menus had grease spots on them. He knew that he looked no better with the knit cap pulled over his head, matched by layers of clothing that were ripped and worn. He'd spent hours the night before in a gas station bathroom trying to clean himself up but it never did any good. If people thought Robbie looked like a homeless bum--well, that's because, most of the time, he was.
He straightened up, fussing with the silverware on the table and setting it properly. There wasn't much he could do with the menus or with the atmosphere but he swept the table as best he could with a paper napkin. He didn't know much about Emma Frost but something about the way that she wrote reminded him of home.
What does she want from this? he thought to himself as he shrugged off his coat, hanging it off the chair. I bet she doesn't show. I bet it's just a joke to her. Robbie turned his thoughts to the Brotherhood then. Magneto's gone haywire lately. Christ, I wonder if he really is going to run us all over the country. I don't get it. He's got money for that but he can barely help me get a meal. I ought to stop but I think he's got the right idea, at heart. He just don't care about the people doing the work and how different is that from anybody else?