@madamasque continued from [x]
There’s no movement from the small, utterly, unspectacular woman at the microscope. Face pressed to the eyepiece — her shoulders don’t even move with breathing. Then her head tilts upwards slightly, brown eyes gazing from behind simple frames. Her hand moves— fingers pressing a button beneath the table. A gentle click— the door locking. This was, clearly, private business.
“Oh, come now— it’s not that dramatic, darling. If I wanted to copy a telepath I only need a few moments of contact with them and a genetic catalyst.” It wasn’t hard for Mami to hide— she’d never actually been born and the only citizenship she’d had was within Krakoa while the nation still flourished. —and before then? Mister Sinister had done an excellent job of keeping his creation hidden from others. Now? She built and created whatever facade she needed behind whatever face or name she needed. She offered a smile to the other woman, “But the vast majority of my life has been around an exquisitely masterful liar and manipulator— it’s also rather my job to read others.” Not to mention the fact that she’d absolutely prefer to stay out of the heads of others - she had no desire to see their mental landscapes. Call it selfish — but it wasn’t her job to witness other’s inner demons and, as juicy as the drama no doubt would be? She had better things to do with her time.
“Yes, that’s right. Or Miss Malignant if we’re feeling like being professional— typically I’m not, of course… usually means I have to play the game, and I rather prefer to observe the pieces moving.” She drops her disguise— skin bleaching to the shade of freshly fallen snow and eyes blinking shut and opening to a deep red. There’s a few changes here and there in her actually form and physique— less like she was just swapping color palettes on a model in real time. She goes from mousy scientist to genetically engineered monster in moments— all with a smile on her face. “Whitney, yes? —Luchino’s daughter.” She doesn’t let that breath, having a gut feeling that her next words, “He’s utterly unpleasant to deal with. Annoying? There’s a falseness to him that I rather… detest.” He’d referred to his daughter as Giullietta as he spoke of her, but she’d done her own research— and she wouldn’t be so disrespectful if their paths crossed. As they were now.
She abandons the station she’s been working at, taking a few confident strides towards Whitney, “I’m being presumptuous, of course. You could be here for a social call, since we covered that I haven’t eaten any telepaths today, I’m not sure. But an educated guess tells me that no one seeks me out without wanting something.” She smiles brightly, but it all flows as it should— not forced or faking and she keeps her hands deliberately at her sides. “How can I be of service?”
