1227/Chelsea Piers

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Chelsea Piers
Date of Scene: 18 April 2020
Location: Chelsea Piers
Synopsis: Three on a golf range, two pissed off, par for the course.
Cast of Characters: Jessica Drew, Stephen Strange, Achilles

Jessica Drew has posed:
The Titanic would have docked here if it hadn't foundered on an iceberg losing so many passengers. Thoughts like this rhythm Jessica's pace as she runs the length of the waterfront. Were she a 'normal' New Yorker she would be flirting with danger, a lone woman, dressed in black jogging tights and top, hoodie pulled up obscuring her face. Only her shoes fluoresce as she disappears into the shadows between streetlights.

In the distance, the thwack of golf balls being hit tells her she is approaching her destination. Double whammy tonight: hitting the little white ball after a good run, followed by a martini or two and she will be in a good place.

Turning into the club, she pulls out her member's pass, slows down and shows it to the guard.

Five minutes later, tennis shoes traded for golf shoes, she is out on the driving range waiting for her bucket of balls. Leaning against a counter, she idly watches the line of players teeing up and swinging, the whole ritual oddly relaxing.

Stephen Strange has posed:
    "You don't know how much I miss this." Stephen says from behind Jessica. The famous, or infamous surgeon steps out of the club house and is slipping his membership card into the breast pocket of his sports coat. The slacks with a simple white shirt tucked into them linger on a pair of golfing shoes that only recently had the dust brushed off them.

    Stephen tries to smile to Jessica as he turns his gaze out to the cavalcade of golfers swinging out onto the pier, more here to converse and be human for a night, but he's not capable of actually golfing any more. Sad as that is, Stephen stands and looks back to Jessica and takes in a breath.

Jessica Drew has posed:
"Thank you for indulging me, Stephen. It's as hard as finding a parking place on 5th Avenue having a slot to practice. My friend, the man I thought might be interesting for you to meet may be along at any time now."

She makes a wide gesture encompassing long line of golfers. The golf club has modeled itself on Japanese clubs and has three decks of golfers winging their balls into the distant net under the wide banks of lights illuminating the astroturf like daylight.

"A bonus to be able to talk to you, too. Though, I must say you are much too nicely dressed to be swinging a club."

Stephen Strange has posed:
    "If I don't indulge you, who would I spend time with instead?" Stephen says, ever the odd flirt as he moves past and smirks, "You sure you wanna wear that to swing, You can swing by the club shop on my card if you'd prefer to not be the sweatiest golfer on the range." Stephen teases as he walks past, hands stuffed into the pockets of his slacks as he walks past and makes his way towards the bar.

    "Who's this friend of yours, Jessica?" Strange asks with a hint of curiosity.

Achilles has posed:
    Since parking in New York is such a nightmare, and his home and such is in Metropolis, Achilles has merely taken a taxi to the meeting place that Jessica invited him to. Golf. It has been an age since he has gone golfing....


    Anyway, the taxi drops the blonde man off out front. He is dressed in a simple white polo shirt, and a pair of khaki slacks. Not what most folks would expect from a three thousand year old Demigod. But when in Rome, as the saying goes.
    As he steps out of the taxi, he sends a quick text to let Jessica know he has arrived. Only then does he approach on foot and step into the facility.

Jessica Drew has posed:
Putting on an accent that would rival the Queen of England's pursed mouth drawl, "I do not sweat, dear doctor. I am rosy with dew. That is a distinction that I wouldn't think necessary to make. Besides I must be one of many that vie for your time." A faint chime stops her raillery, and she reaches into a pocket pulling out her phone.

"I will answer your question with the object in question, or the man in question. He's on his way." She shares a faint smile with him, deliberately keeping her eyes from his hands though she imagines she sympathetically can feel the pull of scar tissue on her own. A thought she would never share with him.

Stephen Strange has posed:
    "People sweat Jessica... I'm a doctor, not a poet." The wizard says as he finds the bar and leans against it, giving the bartender a slow nod before asking, "Two- Three old fashions. one with a slice of orange and a cherry." Stephen says with a glance towards Jessica with a playful wink. "Can't wait to meet him." The sorcerer says somewhat sarcastically as he is more interested in the drinks. "Yeah, start a tab." He finishes to the bartender.

Achilles has posed:
    Striding in through the club's doors, Achilles pauses there to sweep his gaze about. Obviously, he is searching for someone or something. It's pretty self-evident that this man is likely the one Jessica was speaking about. But when he sees her, his face breaks into a smile as he turns to approach.
    His eyes, used to sizing things up, flicker over the good doctor with a quick evaluation as he slows to a stop. His eyes also take in the three drinks ordered, and he lifts a brow, one hand coming up to gesture towards said drinks, "Is one of those for me?" he asks in the hint of an English accent. What? He spent 700 years living in England.

Jessica Drew has posed:
The unfortunate doctor is bracketed by Brits, or at least two who can carry the British passport. None of the three speaks with the accent of their birthplace. "Stephen, may I introduce you to my new friend, Angelo Tampambulos, now living in the United States. Angelo, this is Stephen Strange, doctor, also living in the United States of late. I will leave the two of you to discover more about yourselves."

She lays a hand on each of their upper arms, eyes moving between the two with a smile tugging one corner of her mouth. "Suffice it to say I would trust you both with my life. Something, I don't say lightly."

Stephen Strange has posed:
    "Jess... what're you doing? Why are you playing so coy..." Stephen asks/demands as she sounds like she's about to leave the to boys to their play date while she swings at some balls. Stephen turns his head towards Angelo and nods. "Nice to meet you I presume, and yes, one of those is for you, the fancy one with the fruit, is for the ... her." Stephen says with suspicious eyes towards Angelo.

    "The way Jessica is acting, I presume that isn't your real name, that sounds too made up for someone with a british accent." The learned and travelled doctor notes aloud before asking, "What's your special?"

Achilles has posed:
    "Is it so strange for someone of Greek Heritage to grow up in London?" asks 'Angelo' as he reaches for the drink. But he inclines his head and studies Jessica's back for a long moment, "As for what her intent is, I've no idea to be honest. I like to think that I have gotten to know the young lady well enough of late but..." he shrugs his shoulders and turns his green eyes back to Strange.
    He waits for a moment before adding, "My special? Am I missing some American slang term?" Another pause before he adds, "Unless there is something that you are asking and I am just not puzzlin' out." He smirks a bit, lifts the drink and takes a sip before his eyes turn back towards the departing Jessica. "Tis nice t'meetcha Chief." he says aside to Strange. "I mean Doctor. Sorry."

Jessica Drew has posed:
"One, I only have a short time to play." A number rolls up on the board behind the bartender which matches the voucher in her pocket.

"Two, I could make money selling slots to swing a club at a funny white ball and forget trying to be a PI. Three, he is his own man, as your are. But, fortunately, I will be very close by to witness this debacle." She shakes her head no at the word. "This meeting. The golf gods smiled down on me, wishing me to swing a club and get inebriated in the company of two very handsome men." Capping that with a healthy drink from the Old Fashioned, she picks up her bag and bucket of balls next to the wide glass sliding door leading out to the tee and walks to her spot, not two yards away.

Stephen Strange has posed:
    "It isn't common, no." Stephen remarks and then motions to the bar they're at, "Even less common for that person to run into a former surgeon at the Chelsea pier with a detective hinting that we two need to meet." Stephen semi-explains and gives a smirk, "So there's something special about you for Jessica to want to watch us interact. I'm no mental slouch." Strange feels like remarking before he takes his own drink, red scarred hand wobbling slightly as he takes a breath and lifts the tumbler up to his lips and takes a sip. He sets the glass down and quickly rehides his hands.

Achilles has posed:
    "Why would..." Achilles begins before he pauses. "She just asked me to meet her here. No indication as to why." he adds with a sigh as he lifts his hand up and pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "I had -hoped- that it would be a pleasant social occasion.
    But after a long deep breath, he shakes his head, "Okay. So she wanted -us- to meet. Why would that be you ask." He shrugs and runs it through his brain. She wanted him to meet this smart guy. This doctor. She introduced him with his mortal pseudonym, not as Achilles of Pthia.
    So, meet but not give the name out. It makes no sense to him but... in his thirty two hundred years, the one thing that has eluded his consciousness is... women. He still has no idea how to figure them out.
    Then he turns to fully face Doctor Strange. "So, to turn that around on itself. What about -you- makes you think that there something special that must be about me?"

Jessica Drew has posed:
Taking a deep breath to try to clear her mind of the two, she almost looks back, 'They should have every woman golfer and some of the men if they are so inclined glomming on them in there.' Jessica steps up on the green mat places a ball on the tee then reaches back to select a club from the rack that holds her bag.

Call it women's intuition, call it spider sense developed through hundreds of hours of martial arts training under the tutelage of the iron hand of the Taskmaster, she glances back in time to see Achilles pinch the bridge of his nose and the doctor unsmiling. 'Oh. Dear.'

Another calming breath, as she spreads her feet, finds her grip on the club and squares her hips. Jessica does not golf like an amateur. She has the smooth strong swing and follow through of a pro. Training. Thanks to HYDRA of all things. One of the few things given her to help her fit into 'normal' society. The ball smacks the netting and the golfer behind her stops and does a double take.

After the swing, she waves to the two at the bar.

Stephen Strange has posed:
    Stephen looks to Jessica and returns the wave, but again, hides his hand quickly. A tick if you will. Then his face turns back to Achilles and nods. "Guess she wanted to see the looks on both of our faces for the big reveals." Strange surmises. "I am Doctor Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme. Protector of this and the other realms and dimensions of this universe... which leads me to ask, who are you?" Strange is no small fish in a small pond.

Achilles has posed:
    At the words, big reveal... Achilles actually had a totally different thought. He inclines his head at Strange's intro and lifts his brows. At first, he smirks as if it's all some grand joke. But then that smirk falls off of his face, "You are serious." he states before eyes slide towards Jessica once more.
    (She knows that I am very picky about whom I share such information with. Why would she put me in such a situation?) O O o o . . that thought flashes over his face silently, but easily enough to read for a smart guy like Strange.
    He closes his eyes once more and gives an incline of his head that is almost an invitation. He lifts his arms and shows the celestial bronze bracers on his wrists. "Someone with such a skill at sorcery should have no trouble identifying these."
    (Bracers forged by Hephaestus loooong ago.)

Jessica Drew has posed:
Another swing which slices to the left, thanks to the vibe pouring off of the blond man. She feels and then catches the smirk that is about to cross Achilles'face. Helen may have cast off a thousand ships with her beautiful face, Achilles may have caused a thousand fights with his condescending smile. Unwittingly holding her breath, Jessica deflates with relief when the blond man shows Stephen his wrists.

One more shot. The golf bug bit the young detective hard enough for her not to show good judgement. Like a drunk, just one more.

Stephen Strange has posed:
    "Bronze..." Stephen says to himself aloud, then looks up towards Angelo's eyes. "No..." The man has heard of and even seen the bracers made by Hephaestus for the invinicible "Achilles, that's." Stephen actually has his stoic facade shattered for a brief moment.

    The Ancient One was old, but this guy... okay, Stephen is impressed. Strange takes a drink but the hand wobble is fierce as he has to recover his mental state and strength before he looks out to Jess with a glare before looking back to Angelo, "Angelo. That is an interesting story for sure."

Jessica Drew has posed:
Wounded. Jessica feels the glare like a knife, if looks could put you across someone's knees. Eyes narrowed, mouth flattened into a frown, she does the golf shimmy, distributing her weight. After a careful rewrap of her hands around the club, she makes a graceful backswing and murders the ball. The netting that protects a thousand balls from changing the height of the riverbed bows visibly with the hit.

Duty calls and after only six swings she is back into the bar. She hands the bartender her card to punch and finishes her drink, ice melt and all.

"Get that all straightened out, did you?" Addressing them both while she clinks the ice in her glass.

Achilles has posed:
    "They were never lost. Just kept them when I faked my death." Achilles says before he turns his head to look to Jessica, -also- glaring. "You might say that. I dislike having my hand forced in such a manner." he states flatly, "You two have fun. I should see to some things at the office."
    That said, he turns to stalk away. Upset, hurt, feeling caged, put upon. You name it. He's not happy.

Stephen Strange has posed:
    "Dirty trick Jessica." Stephen says with a frown towards the private eye when they're left alone. "Tell him my apologies when you see him next." The wizard says as he stands back up and refuses the card from Jessica and the bartender. "You and I have much more to talk about. You have a few swings left in you." Strange says, taking the card and putting it in his coat pocket as he stands up and makes sure Jessica has another drink and he tries to usher her back outside onto the range. "Come darling." He says flatly, almost commanding.

Jessica Drew has posed:
"What has gotten into you, tonight. Stephen?" She pooches her lips like a spoiled little girl as he tries to usher her out the door. "No drinks on the range. It's bad for the astroturf." Stubbornly Jessica stays rooted in place, shrugging off his arm insincerely.

Stephen Strange has posed:
    "Nothing Jessica, just, ... we both seemed like we were forced to be rather vulnerable with a man neither of us had met before and since Angelo is the one who's left, I figure we two can have a nice chat outside." Stephen says with a look over his shoulder. "I'm sure the bartender will take the price of new turf out of my account should we happen to spill any liquor." Strange explains softly as he holds open the door with his back, waiting for Jessica to join him.

Jessica Drew has posed:
"You and your unending wealth. Alright. Neither of you we're happy in the moment," said quietly enough with a narrowing of her eyes. Picking up her fresh glass, she straightens her back and raises her chin. "Lead on then."

Stephen Strange has posed:
    "Now since I can't swing any more. I'm going to sit down, enjoy this old fashioned, and savor the company of a beautiful woman playing golf for instead of with me. Would you be willing to oblidge me Miss Drew?" Strange asks as he steps over to the corner of the swinging range and sits in one of the few chairs available and takes a slow sip, conscious of his hand being exposed and yet, there's nothing he can do except set the drink down and hide his hand some more.

Jessica Drew has posed:
"That," she replies pointedly, "I can do. Playing for you?" Hands on her hips, she shakes her head, "How do you manage to make that sound salacious?"

The question is rhetorical, biting back a smile she goes to her recently vacated pad and places a ball on the tee. Eyebrows raised she looks a question at him, thinking that he was one of the few people she knew that could make a lawn chair look like a throne. The sound of a deftly wielded club and the satisfying thwack of a well hit ball follows that thought. The golfer on the next pad shakes his head in disbelief.