The Hellfire Club, Emma's New York, Friday Evening.

[icecoldfrost]

The message had only said that Jack required distraction, and so Emma had gotten them seats for the most distracting thing available: The Annual New York After-Dark Burlesque Review, hosted at - of course - The Hellfire Club. Because if you were going for decadence, you needed the perfect backdrop

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[bitten_notshy]

Jack raised his eyebrows slightly as they came through the door. "You never do things halfway, do you, Ems?"

The truth was this was what he'd needed. Something so far from Fandom that he could pretend none of the horror of the dungeon had been real.

[icecoldfrost]

"Well," Emma quipped, hanging on his arm and throwing him a wink. "You wanted distracting, and it was this or Broadway. No one else is throwing parties tonight, and I refuse to get sucked in to the tourist trap."

"Besides; telepath. I am genetically incapable of doing something halfway. It is perfect or nothing."

[bitten_notshy]

"You're going to have to explain that one to me," Jack quibbled, bumping her shoulder with his own as he looked for the bar. "Why does being a telepath make you a perfectionist?"

[icecoldfrost]

"Because if I do it wrong, I remember that fact forever and it itches at the back of my brain," Emma answered melodramatically. "The joys of an almost-perfect endemic memory." Also, she was still a Frost. Being Imperfect was basically the cardinal sin.

She leaned in to nuzzle at his neck once they reached the bar. "Hank says it's not uncommon for telepaths to have perfectionist traits," she continued quietly, "it's just how we're wired."

"Now--" Emma pressed a quick kiss just below his ear. "May I buy the gentleman a drink?"