The mission's adrenaline is still buzzing through my veins as my boots hit the hangar floor. Everyone's exhausted, moving like zombies after the rescue mission that was equal parts success and clusterfuck. Angel's being whisked away to the medical bay, and Kitty's still sitting around stressfully.
"Debrief in the morning," Scotty announces, her voice raspy with fatigue. "Everyone get some rest."
The team disperses like scattered pool balls, each heading their own direction. Rogue and Gambit practically sprint for the door, probably desperate for some alone time. Kitty just phases through the nearest wall without a word.
And then there's me, standing awkwardly in the middle of the hangar with my newly regrown ankle and a head full of weird memories about floating beaches and invisible tits.
"Jack."
Emma's voice slides over my name like she's tasting it. She's stripped off that ridiculous yellow A.I.M. uniform and is back in pristine white.
"Why don't you come with me to my room?" she asks, those ice-blue eyes glinting with something that makes my stomach do a weird flip. "We can share a drink."
"I'm too young to drink, Emma."
Her lips curve into that predatory smile. "Then why don't you come watch me drink?"
I should say no. Every survival instinct I've developed over years of navigating my parents' minefield of moods is screaming at me to run in the opposite direction.
But my ankle got sawed off today. I faced down MODOK. I helped rescue Angel and survived a face-to-face with Magneta. And I'm just so fucking tired.
"Okay," I hear myself say.
Emma's smile widens, victory flashing in her eyes as she loops her arm through mine. "Excellent choice."
Her skin is cool against mine as she guides me through the mansion's quiet hallways. It's late enough that most students are in their dorms, though we pass a few night owls who give us curious glances. Emma ignores them all, her focus entirely on me in a way that's both flattering and terrifying.
We're almost to Emma's room when I notice them, five identical blonde figures standing in front of her door like some creepy Children of the Corn reunion. The Stepford Cuckoos, Emma's perfect little students, all wearing matching white pajama sets and identical expressions of disapproval.
Emma's arm tenses slightly against mine. Her smile tightens just a fraction.
"Girls?" Emma says, her voice pleasant but with an edge of wariness. "Is everything alright?"
The five of them exchange glances with each other, some silent telepathic conversation happening that I'm not privy to. Sophie steps forward, her pale gaze flicking between Emma and me.
"We need to speak with you, Miss Frost," she says, her voice perfectly modulated. "It's about the curriculum changes for tomorrow."
"At this hour?" Emma asks, one elegant eyebrow arching upward.
"It's rather urgent." Another of the Quintuplets adds.
I can feel the tension radiating off these girls in waves. Their identical faces are masks of professionalism, but something else lurks beneath, something that feels an awful lot like jealousy when their eyes drift to me.
Emma's eyes linger on the quintuplets for a moment. I can feel her disappointment radiating off her like a physical force as she slowly unloops her arm from mine.
"I see," she says, her voice maintaining that perfect British composure even as something flickers behind those ice-blue eyes. She turns to face me, and there's hunger there, the kind of look a predator gives when forced to release prey that was almost within its grasp.
"Another time, Jack," Emma says softly, her gaze holding mine with such intensity that I feel my mouth go dry. "We'll have that drink... soon."
"Of course," I manage, nodding slightly. "Another time."