WHO: Emma Frost & OPEN! WHAT: Emma is putting on her "therapist" hat. WHEN: Today, around 4pm. WHERE: Emma's office in the medical center. RATING: TBD - depends on who shows up.
"It's so terrible, I keep closing my eyes and all I see is her! I can't sleep, I can't eat, I'm a mess! Those zombies, oh god, Carol! Why did I have to see her like that?" Seated in a large plush chair was a rather rotund man dressed in a pair of khaki shorts, and a blue Hawaiian t-shirt which barely fit him. His eyes were bloodshot, and he couldn't stop twitching and moving around. It was a major contrast to the woman who sat opposite him, completely poised and calm piercing blue eyes watched the man curiously. Sinfully long legs were crossed one over the other as a fountain pen scribbled over a notepad as the man spoke. Stifling a yawn just as the alarm on a timer went over. Shaking her head, the man went silent as Emma rose to her feet. Six inch designer heels echoed on the ground as Emma beckoned the man towards the door.
"To be quite honest, Mister Thompson, I think you're completely batty. However, I must remind you that you paid a few pretty pennies to stay here, you ought to be more appreciative of the fact that Mister Petersen took time out of his very busy life to give you a chance to see your deceased wife once more." A pointed glance was given to him as she opened the door, "One ought to be more appreciative about that." The man looked aghast, and slightly offended that Emma would imply seeing his dead wife as a zombie should be something appreciated. Giving the man a side glance, a hand was pressed against his back as she firmly pushed him out of her office. Sultry voice called out behind him as she waved him good bye. "Same time tomorrow, darling. We're having some major breakthroughs." She seemed almost sincere, had it not been for the moment she turned around she rolled her eyes.
Moving back into her office, she left the door open as she picked up her notepad and looked over her "notes", or rather, cartoon-like drawings of Mister Thompson as he sat in her office sobbing. A cruel smirk curled on her lips, as she tossed the pad on the paper and moved to sit behind her desk. Emma was not enjoying this new job, she hated listening to people's problems. She hated it back when she was a Headmistress at Xavier's and she hated it now. She wasn't really the type of person to go to when someone needed a shoulder to cry on, she wasn't the maternal type of person that Jean was. She wasn't raised like that, she believed what better ways for people to learn than through "tough love" and a suck it up type of attitude?
So being a telepath made this job rather simple, it still didn't excuse Emma's own biases and frustrations against people like Mister Thompson. He was weak in her mind, weak-minded, weak-willed and deserved all his paranoia and sleepless nights. He paid money to stay at this resort, his own greed fueled him to shell out thousands of dollars and all he could could do was complain?
Emma scoffed and took a seat behind her desk. "I could be in Milan, right now, or Paris, or Dubai..." Sighing, she just sat back in the large chair and waited for the next pathetic person to walk through her door.