It was a beautiful day in early fall, the kind of day where warm sunshine poured over the land like honey, saved from being overly warm by a refreshing breeze. The leaves had started to turn colors on the edges and the air smelled green as the crops in the fields readied themselves for harvest. Glacian winters were long and bitterly cold, the
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Some things never changed: Emma Frost's inability to cope with small children was one of them.
"I was promised honey-pears," she warned, toe-ing off her heels under the table as she reached for her teacup. "You better deliver, Glacia."
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She was coming along to that fitting with popcorn, yes.
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Could she maybe bring that telekinetic glove and hold him still for it?
Hannibal smiled. "You'll be pleased to know that neither of us is wearing white, which leaves the color open for our guests."
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"I ate them all," Karla said, lying through her teeth. "They were all there on a platter with the note For Emma Frost on it and I decided you wouldn't mind if I had just one. And they were so good I couldn't help myself, and soon enough, they were all gone, just like that. Have a bran muffin instead. There are plenty of those left."
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...to SoHo, but details.
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She had standards. And pride.
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