Most students jumped to that conclusion after hearing her last name. Emma was used to that, and all references to her name and how much it fit a woman who had such a cold personality. There were numerous nicknames she was aware her students called her, and most of them were deserving. Frosty Bitch, Ice Queen, the list could go on, but ironically - or maybe not so ironically - her powers had nothing to with cryokinesis. She left all the icy, frosty things to boys like Bobby Drake. Emma Frost's powers were far more interesting. Telepathy. Yes, Emma Frost could read minds. She could do far more than that with her telepathy, but for all intent and purposes, Emma was a skilled telepath. Who at the mansion didn't know that?
Oh.
The boy walking into the kitchen didn't realize that, did he? With a cup of freshly brewed coffee in hand, Emma stared down at the drink. Part of her wished she convinced Hank to make her one of his perfected cups of coffee, but considering the hour and the fact that she only wanted the coffee to get through the rest of the papers she needed to grade, Emma felt like it would be a worthless cause.
Icy blue gaze lifted from the drink as a boy walked into the kitchen, obviously too wrapped up in his own little world to even notice the platinum blonde vixen standing off the side. A finely sculpted brow arched as she watched him rummage through the refrigerator.
"Isn't it a bit late to be having dinner, Mr Tyrie?" Plucking up a spoon, Emma stirred the coffee attempting to make it less sludgy than it all ready was to no avail. Giving up, she placed the spoon in the sink and took a sip of the coffee. She had to hide a grimace as her stomach threatened to turn over. Ugh, a multi-billion dollar heiress was reduced to drinking cheap sludgy coffee and grading ungrateful students papers. This was what her life was reduced to? Damn, she inwardly cursed herself, damn her bloody conscience and the need to help that she felt when she found out the Xavier Mansion had been destroyed.