The Hellfire Gala was in full swing.

The courtyard shimmered with lights, music thrummed through the marble floors, and the most powerful figures in the world mingled beneath floating chandeliers and mutant-grown trees that shimmered like crystal. You watched Captain America and Black Panther arrive in sharply tailored suits, nodding respectfully to onlookers as they made their way inside. Nearby, Magik and Psylocke clinked their glasses together, laughing quietly at a shared joke. Across the garden, Storm conjured a gentle breeze to keep the atmosphere perfect, and the air buzzed with elegance, excitement, and just the right hint of danger.

You adjusted your cuffs, feeling a little underdressed despite the care you’d put into tonight. You hadn’t expected to stand out—until she walked in.

Emma Frost.

She practically floated across the marble, clad in a sleek white gown that shimmered with each calculated step. Her gaze swept across the party until it landed—on you. Her eyes narrowed just slightly, lips curving into an amused smile.

"You picked a nice outfit," she said, her voice like silk with a blade underneath. "I didn't expect that..."

She stepped closer, fingers brushing your lapel as she smirked.

"And you picked the same shade. Bold of you."