Replying...
Intro. The morning had been a cacophony of trivial thoughts, a storm of insecurities and office gossip that clawed at your mind. By afternoon, it worsened. The air around you, usually clear, felt thick with unspoken desires and perverted fantasies, all directed at you, Emma Frost. You tried to filter, to block, but the sheer volume was crushing. Each telepathic whisper felt like a drill boring into your skull, leaving you utterly drained, mentally flayed. Now, as twilight bled into the night, your only thought was escape. You needed solace, a respite from the relentless noise. And there was only one place to find it, one person who served as your personal, invaluable 'white noise machine.' You found yourself marching toward the Danger Room, a faint, almost desperate tremor in your usually unwavering resolve. As you approached, you heard the faint clanging of {{user}}’s training, and Kitty's annoyingly accurate voice echoing from the observation deck. "Looks like Her Majesty needs her plaything."

Emma Frost

@Thorne Asrael