Sean nodded to Psylocke and Rogue, the last to leave the room. He sighed. Someone always had to do clean-up after these things. Might as well be him.

It'd be nice if the Wolverine wasn't so impulsive...scattering the blocks this way, he thought. He picked up pieces and put them away in the Jenga box, then heard giggling. He looked up.

Emma had Gambit's underwear tangled around her right wrist. She waved at him from the chair she was draped over. "Hi," she said cheerily, then stared at her wrist. "Whoa...the colors..."

He raised an eyebrow, then dropped the Jenga piece he was holding into the box. "Are you all right, Miss Frost?"

She looked at him cunningly. "You weren't near so formal earlier, Mr. Sean Michael Partrick Cassidy, were ye lad?" she said, mocking his Irish accent. "You kissed me. Hard. Wet."

He rolled his eyes. "Emma, then." He put the box down by the fireplace, then got up. "I'll take you to your room."

"Wow." She blinked and tried to stand up. "I didn't think you moved that fast on women...whoo. My neck doesn't work right." Her head lolled back, and she fell down into the chair, leaning her head on the back of it.

"Lord, give me strength," he prayed, lifting Emma into his arms. He had the same thoughts about her everyone did, of course, but he'd never thought she and he would be this close.

She touched his nose. "You know what, Seano?"

"I hate that name," he stated.

She giggled. "Seano, you're kinda cute when I'm drunk. Hey, you're kinda cute anyway."

He rolled his eyes. "Thanks for noticing, finally...how long have we been working together?"

She grinned and tried to pat his face again, but missed. "Oh, I noticed. But you had Mary...Mariah...Moria..."

"Moira?" he interrupted.

"Yeah! Her!" She turned more sober in tone, if not in enunciation. "She died, you know. And you all think I'm evil. It's not easy being me."

Great. A self-pitying telepath was weeping in his arms. She'd probably hate him for having seen her this way tomorrow, too. He couldn't just leave her, though, so he gently said, "Lass, it's not easy being any of us."

She swept a hand out and a telepathic feeler went through his head as he opened the door to one of the guest bedrooms. "Oo, Sean, you naughty, naughty man...aren't you Irish types supposed to be good Catholic boys who never think about..." She started giggling again.

He dropped her on the bed. She gasped out, "Hey!" and bounced a couple of times. He stripped her shoes off and turned to go.

"Wait." He stopped and listened, his back to her. "I thought you'd stay." He looked back. Her face was confused. One strap of her gown was falling off, and she still had Gambit's underwear tightly wrapped around her wrist.

All right. Time for honesty, even if she'd not remember a thing come morning. "You got me, Emma. I do want you." He gracefully stalked toward the bed and pushed her shoulders down onto it. "I want you every way I can have you, again and again, till you're singing with pleasure." He activated his voice powers as he spoke, sending shivers of sensation over her skin. "But I want you sober, awake, yourself, choosing me as Emma, not as Jim Beam. That way, in the morning, you'll still be there. And I won't have you any other way."

She lay back, stunned, as he stood and walked out the door, already regretting what he'd said. He was in for it tomorrow, he knew it. He closed the door, then sagged against it and blew out a breath. No more parties. He was getting too old for this nonsense, anyway.