We Can Explain...

We Can Explain...Chapter Thirty Six (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE (tm), Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta...I think I found an owl loose in here. Are you missing 003? InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena are wonderful sparkley bunnies for archiving/hosting (and I really will finish uploading fics to NFN soon!). ProPhile: *glomp * Readers/Reviewers: A moment of silence for the missing Killer Kitties (tm). The ducks are massing a search party... And just to make sure you're keeping up, this is a continuation of what Emma is "showing" the Professor...

Jubilee did not know which way to turn, towards Kitty or towards Rogue. Finally, she settled on Lance. "What the fuck?" she exploded, flinging her hands wide to signify the entire situation. "Is this some fucked up acid trip no one asked our permission about?"
Lance growled in frustration and began pacing. The room was wide, easily twice the size of the Institute's formal dining room, and decorated in silver and what appeared to be jewels, the walls a subdued marble shot with faint gray veins that accented the luster of the silver filigree. The room was eerily silent, Lance's footsteps masked by the thick Oriental rug. "Whoever the fuck is in charge here," he suddenly shouted, tilting his face ceilingward, "we want some fucking answers!"
As if on cue, the door Demos had taken Remy through and a small, slightly hunched man entered pushing a silver cart laden with plates. "Lady Phobos requests that you eat something before joining the ball downstairs..." He left the cart in the middle of the room and turned to return the way he had come.
"Wait!" Kitty burst. "Who are you?"
"A mere servant," he bowed. "Nobody." He was very nondescript with pale sandy hair and rabbity eyes that appeared lashless and colorless as he bowed again. "Please do not keep Madame waiting..."
Amara exhaled noisily as the servant let himself out. "This is like the worst fairytale ever."
Kitty ignored her, heading for the cart. She grabbed the first plate she came to, one laden with cheese and meat, and hurried it back to Kurt. He fell on it with gusto, eating unabashedly as Rogue made a noise of vague disgust. "Is there water on that thing? Todd's gonna dry out on me here..." She carefully untangled herself from his weak grasp and joined Kitty at the cart. On the second level, there was a pitcher of ice water and several glasses as well as a bottle of wine. She grabbed the pitcher and forwent the glasses, taking the whole thing to Todd. "When did y'all get here?" she asked as she held the vessel up for him to drink.
Amara sighed and quickly relayed their part of the story to her, ending with, "How did those two get so bad?"
"It's like everything was just sucked out of them," Kitty shrugged helplessly. "We've all been feeling bad since we got here. On top of the whole confused out of our gourds thing, Todd's been pretty quiet, Kurt got weak really fast and we've all been very... Um..."
Rogue sighed. "Horny."
Lance burst into a fit of coughing, choking on his own surprise. "What?" he managed after a moment. Amara's incredulous expression echoed his question as she leaned back and peered at Kitty and Rogue respectively.
Kurt, feeling a slight bit better, sighed and pushed the plate in his lap to one side. "Ja, what she said. It's like our...needs...are on overdrive...but...we can't DO anything about it!" He looked almost embarrassed as he went on, his fingers curling helpless at his sides as he spoke. "It's like...like..."
Todd sighed, setting the now-empty pitcher aside. "It's like everything's on fast forward, yo. Our...whatzits...metabolisms?" He looked askance at Rogue, who nodded at the use of the correct word. "Our metabolisms are going nuts..."
Amara frowned n ann and fingered the dress on her lap. "What are they wanting from us here? Have you figured this place out yet?"
Kurt shook his head, managing to get to his feet with Kitty's assistance and heading for the cart again. "Nein. Just that there is some huge ball downstairs and that woman expects us to attend." Stuffing a fruit studded pastry into his mouth, he mumbled around the confection, "She knows all about us, it seems."
Kitty nodded, breaking in. "She knows our names, she knew our powers...it was like she had been spying on us or something." She shuddered delicately, tugging on the neckline of her dress as if trying to cover up some more. "I'm scared."

Downstairs, the ball was in full swing. The dancers moved in perfect motions, their faces a study in pleasure. The only thing missing was the music. "Are they ready yet?" Phobos demanded as her brother appeared in the archway leading to the foyer. She was bent over a panel set into the handrail of the staircase, a thin veneer flipped up to reveal a complicated set of controls that seemed to be set in haphazardly. "Damned wiring. Where is that blond lout when you need him?"
"Chained to your bed, last I recall," Demos intoned gaily. "I sent one of the drones to feed them. The blue one looked bad. I think I need to readjust the serum..." A scuffling noise at the top of the stairs made him look up sharply. "Ah, Mister LeBeau. Early, I see..."
Remy easily schooled his features into bland neutrality. Years of being a thief, and an expert one at that, had made it very easy for him to appear innocent. "I did like you ask an' I ain't find nothin'."
Phobos narrowed her eyes, closing the panel with a snap. Behind her, the dancers vanished without a trace. "Are you sure? Let me see your hands!"
Remy held out his hands, palms up and smiled faintly. Phobos was several inches taller than him, putting her cleavage at a convenient level. He inhaled obviously and made an approving noise. "You smell awful good, mem'oiselle."
Phobos paused, surprised. "You're fresh." She grabbed his hands and brought them up to her eye level, peering closely for something only she knew of. "You speak the truth. Go look again!"
Remy grinned lazily. "You wanna help?" He winked at her, glancing at Demos quickly. "Look like yo' brother got dis under control." He did not mention the sudden absence of the ball. "C'mon...you know you want to."
Phobos wavered for a moment, her face unreadable. Finally, her red lips parted in a smile that was more feral than seductive. "I'll show you what I need, since I think Demos failed to explain things properly."
"Good," Remy drawled. "I work better when I know what a lady needs..."
Demos choked on either a laugh or a snarl. "What about your friend, Phobos? The blond?"
"He can wait," she snapped. "Prepare the...cocktails...for the others. Now." She offered her arm to Remy, missing his faint expression of worry. "Let's go see what it is I need, hmmm?"