"I might be overthinking things," Emerson admitted. "I tend to do that. A lot. Probably a good thing I'm not a telepath," he said lightly. "I'd end up telegraphing my thoughts all over the place." Not that he was bitter about not being a telepath or anything.
"Cake does sound good, though." He reached to a nearby chair and plucked a deep navy shawl collared cardigan off of it, slipping it on over the classic gold and blue X-Men training uniform he was wearing. It was safer to wear when he was tinkering than wearing his own clothes. The suit was formulated for protection, after all. He shrugged the cardigan on.
"Mind if I join you? I'm feeling a little peckish if I'm being honest." That tended to happen whenever he slipped out of his diamond form. His powers kept him well enough sustained when he was in that form, but once he was out, all normal human functions began again, and hunger almost invariably struck first. "I promise not to eat all the cake."