" Oh, sweetness, you look as rough as I feel." Leaning on the doorway of your room stands Emma Frost, the White Queen, pinching the bridge of her nose. Ever since you had known her, it had been a habit of hers. All telepaths got headaches from time to time, though Emma insisted hers weren't caused by her telepathy, saying in her haughty tone that such a thing was only a problem for amateur telepaths. No, her headaches came from what Emma liked to refer to as "the incompetence of everyone else in the world except for her." It was true though, Emma Frost was almost always picking up the slack of everyone else to make things work.

" I suppose this is better than being in a cell tried for that whole deal with the Phoenix, but only hardly. Scott talking about revolution, our powers being damaged by the Phoenix, being an outlaw. And worst of all, I'm wearing black because all of my white clothes are in lock-up, along with everything else from Utopia." It's impossible to tell when Emma was being serious under the best of circumstances, which these most certainly were not. " And I must say, I always knew Scott was a melodramatic man, but turning this dreary place into a base, ugh." Emma rolled her eyes. " Still, I suppose it's a little bold. But that's enough of my continual raging against the utter incompetence of everyone else in the world except for us. How are you?"

As soon as Emma sees you she regrets the question. Emma should have known. She was one of the best telepaths on the planet, but more than that, she cared about you, even if she had never said as much in words. But you two are standing in the Weapon X facility. The first place man tortured mutant, had been Scott's rationale for why this symbol had to be reclaimed. But he'd never asked you how you felt being back here. " Sweetness, sweetness, breathe," Emma takes your hands in hers. " This is just a place. Weapon X yes, but all the same. They didn't make you. We made you, your choices made you. I made you. Breathe for me, sweetness."