2013-01-22 Comparing Notes

"Thank you for having me," Scott Summer says with a smile after shaking her hand. He takes a seat at one of the chairs of her immaculate office. He braces a small attache case upon his lap and pulls out some paperwork and some notes. "I know how terribly busy your time is, Miss Frost, but as you know, our schools share many multiple interests. I appreciate your time to share notes and I think the students of both of our facilities will really benefit." Scott shakes his head, "Forgive me, that was rude. How are you?"

"Mr. Summers - although my time is certainly less than it has been in the past," says Emma Frost, the ghost of a smile touching her ice-blue painted lips, "I ~always~ have the time for someone from Xavier's," she says, folding her white-gloved hands together. Her room was immaculate, as was her appearance, her eyes watching the features of the other. She was dressed modestly today - professionally - a tailored white business top with an equally long, white skirt. "Our facilities /do/ share multiple interests with each other. But..." she says, unfolding her hands to lift a finger in the air, as if to amplify her upcoming point, "...we differ on one key point. Charles believes that the children are best kept away from the world, their developing years spent seperate from the world. How are they to live in a world that they are out of touch with, hmm?" she says then. Although at the last question, that ghost of a smile she wears turns into something more open. "Mr. Summers, I'm doing quite well, thank you, quite well. How about yourself? You look like you are doing good."

"Things have been good," Scott lies. "Not much of import or interest." He breathes a bit being careful with his response. "I think the Professor's goal is to get them to feel at home. Get them to feel what it's like to be normal-whatever that is. Once they get that, get a better understanding, they can feel more ready to ingratiate themselves into a society that is not always quite ready for them. I don't mean to disparage your approach. I think there reasonable minds can disagree." It's clear Scott is not one who disagrees.

For the longest moment, Emma remains silent. On the outside, it would look as though she were in contemplation, the woman tapping the ends of her fingertips together, just watching Scott's features as he speaks, and in the moment of silence afterwards. Internally, though, she was sliding her touch over his mind, drawing out the surface thoughts. Of course, whether or not she would get anything would be entirely up to Mr. Summers, and how rigidly he held his thoughts in check. Regardless, that cheshire smile touches her features again, and she cants her head a bit to the side. "Well, be that as it may - all criticisms of one school over the other aside, what sorts of proposals do you have? Sharing faculty between our facility and your own?" she asks, a little smile tugging up the corners of her lips.

On the outside, Scott is as controlled as he always is. He's composed. Cold. Professional. "Well, essentially," he exhales with a smile, "I'm sort of on a fact finding mission. I want to see what the ideals of your facility are, see what sorts of teaching principles and strategies you use. See if we can incorporate any of them to make our institute better. And vice-versa." Inside, the earlier question of how he's doing is still on his mind. Emma will see flashes. His failure to prevent Bobby from dying-even though Bobby came back miraculously, it was his fault. Angel and their fractured relationship. And at the forefront, a breakup with a redhaired woman who Emma may recognize as Jean Grey months ago. She'll be able to tell that he's doing his best to re-focus on the interview at hand.

Emma Frost brings her hands up to steeple her fingers together, her blue gaze almost piercing as she tilts her head just so to the side, keeping her gaze level on Scott's hidden eyes. "I prefer, Mr. Summers - to not attempt to make our students goals line up with a grand plan of my own. Does Mr. Xavier believe differently?" she asks, a little smile accompanying that verbal jab of sorts. "We prefer to develop and assist students in finding their own goals in life - and if they have one that might be more destructive than most, we would prefer to try to explore options for that student to be more... productive, of course." There was another moment then, and another curious little tilt of her head to the side. "But I can see where that approach may be counterproductive - the teachers may shoulder too much of an emotional burden, for faults and failures with the students and others that isn't really theirs to shoulder. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Summers?"

Scott falters a bit at her question and brings his hand along his face in consideration of her words. "Honestly-and I do hope you don't think I'm being rash-I don't feel as if having a goal for the successful integration of mutant kind into society. If there are no goals, or if those goals are simply up to the individual, I'm not sure that real progress can be made. Individuals might progress, certainly, but only on their own means to their own ends. Perhaps I'm a bleeding heart liberal, but I don't believe in the 'every man for himself' sort of philosophy. Our kind of people need to find a way to work together to make this world a different place. We need to live together, or our kind will suffer alone." Certainly he's taking her words and running with them, but he doesn't seem to mean or show any ill will. Instead, he just seems to focus on the philosophy of her argument.

"So you feel, Mr. Summers, that it is your responsibility as a teacher to make all the students under your purview fit your own worldview?" asks Emma, likewise without ill will of her own. "We do need to find a way to work together; all of us, so I am not certain we disagree as much as it may seem at the start. Except that I believe that 'our kind' needs to work together with humans to do so. Working together - but only with other mutants - sounds quite a bit like some other philosophy I heard, and not from your facility, hmm?" she says, straightening up in her seat, posture entirely perfect, as she then folds one leg over the other. All in all, she had a controlled demeanor - although there was a hint of bemusement, whether true or false, lingering at the edges.

"No one is at the school by force, Miss Frost. And we do advocate working with humans. That's of course necessary. I think where we differ is we just feel there's an amount of time needed for mutant teens to be able to have a sort of 'time out' from the world to figure out who they are without the pressure of the world and all the disparagement that comes along with it." Scott leans back in his seat, making himself more comfortable. "I guess as we move forward my hope is-and this is not from the Professor, this is just me speaking-but I hope our two institutions could work together to meet our mutual aims. I don't mean to sound like we're not student focused, we are in our instruction and we are in how we do things. We do, however, have a long term goal in mind and it is something I've committed my life to seeing realized."

"Oh, I would certainly agree, Mr. Summers," says Emma, tilting her head just so to the side, her smile fading away from her features as her expression shifts towards the serious. "Our two institutions have the same... basic goal in mind: to prepare students for the world at large. We simply differ on how to go about that, as is natural," she says then. "And now I've been rude. Would you care for a drink? Alcohol at the school is forbidden, of course, but as headmistress, I can circumvent some of the rules, hmm?" says Emma, leaning to the side to tug a drawer on her desk open. "Although, I would like to know what your long term goal is," she says, lightly prodding as he speaks about it, to see just how... truthful he is being about said goal.

Emma will get from him, complete honesty. It's clear that Mr. Summers is passionate about this work. In fact, it's really the only thing he holds on to these days. "For mutants and humans to live together in peace without stigmas or stereotypes." The response is out almost as quick as the question is made. "I'll have whatever your having, Miss Frost. Thank you very much for the offer."

There was a smug little smile on Emma's lips as she produces two wineglasses, and a bottle. "I have a small bottle of two thousand seven Napa Cabarnet - I am certain that you can manage to enjoy it," she says, offering the bottle to Scott for inspection, before arranging the wineglasses atop the table. "Well, in our long term goals, we are the same, at the least," she says, drawing her hand down to tap her fingernails against the desk, ice blue eyes watching Scott's own. "I would like to talk to your professor - should he ever find the time to invite me over," she says, her expression cool.

Scott takes the bottle into his hand with a raised eyebrow before finally giving a smile, "I'm sure it'll be fantastic. I'm a big fan of cabernet." He wonders if it'd be more polite if he pulled the cork, but thinks it's better if she make the call. There's an intake of air as she brings up the Professor, "Well, as you know he's an extremely busy person. I'm certain he'd be interested in meeting with you and I'd be more than happy to let him know to contact you, if that would be your wish, Miss Frost."

"It's a bit too young to drink, but... sometimes it is best to experience the entire range of tastes," says Emma, tilting her head just so to the side. Reaching over to retrieve the bottle again, she does pull the cork, before filling the classes, watching Scott carefully all throughout - although her attention was mostly upon his mind - what little surface thoughts might skitter across it. "Would you like a tour of our facilities, Mr. Summers? Perhaps then you could have a little something more to say, when dear Charles manages to find the time to contact me."

"I think that would be fantastic," Scott responds with a polite smile. His mind trails, however, to recent events. War. Bloodshed. Intense fighting in a desert land. Mureybet, she finds when she looks beneath the surface. Apparently something that Scott is struggling with in some way. "I've been very interested to see what it is your students do here. Since your school casts a larger net than ours, do you tend to have students in all age groups and grades?"

Emma's curiousity was peaked. But reading minds was an art; and to go too deeply beneath the surface required both concentration - and a lot of times, tended to alert the person she was reading. But just skimming? It took someone sensitive to such things to detect that. But Emma dares to take a bit of a dive into that struggle of the man across from her, to drag that location from his mind, tilting her head just so. "Hmmmn," she says, composing herself as she turns her mind from Scott's thoughts back to her own. "We do. We tend to have proficiency groups more than grades proper. For instance, a child with genius level math will be no more challenged by the greatest algebra problem than you or I would with simple addition. However, he can be placed in the higher levels of our math courses here, even if the average age of his fellow student in that class is... significantly higher. It can be a bit of a nightmare to get schedules lined up, and all the children in their appropriate proficiency group, but it appears to be working... at least so far."

"How do you handle the social aspects of mixing ages? That has always been the hurdle, at least in the public sector, for students to be differetiated by skill. Have you had any issues?" Emma can feel Scott trying to focus, and to his credit he's able to push things out better than most people she may come across. But there's definitely something gnawing at him. "How long has the school been up and running?"

"We've only recently been established," Emma says, with a bit of a smirk touching her lips. "So not very long at all; and as for the issue of mixed ages? We don't handle the social aspects, really. We're hoping that they can find a mutual love of the subject; if they are testing far beyond their age, they must have an interest in it - and they will associate with their own age group in the other courses." What she was not telling him about was the Hellions group, of course. The best and brightest of the emerging students to be taken under her personal wing, and... guided. Picking up her glass, then, she brings it to her lips and takes a sip, swishing the wine about in her mouth a moment before her gaze settles back on Scott. "Although, Mr. Summers - I've been working with people for quite some time. And I can tell that your thoughts aren't... all here, so to speak. Are you quite alright?"

Scott licks his lips and nods, "Yes, I apologize. I did not sleep very well last night, and was up early for the drive from New York. I beg your pardon." He smiles faintly and grabs his own glass, takin a sip from the glass. "Well I must say that I find the school very beautiful. It certainly seems state of the art."

"Of course," says Emma, letting silence hang in the air a moment as she takes another little sip of her glass. "Thank you," she says then, fetching the bottle of wine to hide it back beneath the desk. Now, she dares - dares to try to delve deeper into that Mureybet, her blue gaze intent on Scott as she does so. "We are designed... to be the academy... of tomorrow, after all. We will experiment, and we will find what works and what does not," she says, starting to rise to her full height, taking a moment to stretch her shoulders out. "Are you ready, Mr. Summers?" she asks then.

"Absolutely," Scott says and he rises to his. He sets the glass down upon the table, assuming that Emma would prefer that, and smoothes out his clothing. In his mind, as she digs deeper, she will see flashes of fighting and death. It becomes very clear that he is aware of much more than the news reports on the recent revolution in that country.

There was really no delicate way to broach knowing what she knew about Mureybet, her crystal blue eyes fixing upon Scott as she pauses only a moment to collect - and hide the glasses, before stepping closer to the door, plucking up her extravagant coat from a hanger beside it, to throw over her shoulders. "We all have secrets to hide, Mr. Summers," she says then, lowering her voice with a knowing sort of tone. "But, there won't be any secrets about this academy. Any further questions you may have as we tour - please, feel free to voice them."

Scott seems confused by her statement, but merely raises and eyebrow and grows a grin, "Yes I suppose we do." He nods to her and puts his hands in his coat pocket as they begin to walk. "How was this place started? Is it entirely your creation?"