12793/Short skirt and velure jacket.

Short skirt and velure jacket.
Date of Scene:	14 September 2022
Location:	Gotham Royal Hotel
Synopsis:	Scott Lang, in the guise of his alter ego 'Eric O'Grady' infiltrates a fancy Gotham party and meets Violet Paige. Who is about as charming as her reputation suggests.
Cast of Characters:	Scott Lang, Violet Paige

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Scott Lang has posed:
     It's not as if inter-gang warfare was uncommon in Gotham, but there was a new player/weapon in town of late. The long-haired and moustached Fire Ant, otherwise known as Eric O'Grady, other-otherwise known as Scott Lang with a wig, fake moustache, and even more fake nose. As goofy as he often was Scott had worked for a couple years as a professional thief doing for-hire jobs, he knew some of the ins and outs. But he still felt out of place here as his recent antics had gotten him moved up the card all the way to a party in Gotham as kept building his case and finding new names.

     There were two ways he figured to play it as his new thief for hire. The smart way would be the quiet/stoic type that skulked in the corner. Nobody would be surprised by a quiet and impersonable dangerous criminal. Scott didn't choose this method as he stands in the middle of a group of finely dressed couples, his hands up wide and his voice obnoxiously loud.

     "So I tell this guy, 'You think you've got the Fire Ant?! I think the Fire Ants have you! I'd called a whole swarm in while we were talking and they all up in this guys pants and now they start stinging and biting, he's howling and rolling on the ground and I just walk out of there! He doesn't tell anyone of course, who's gonna admit they lost to bugs right? Ahhh, hey there toots, good lookin, gimme a call alright?" O'Grady making a phone gesture with his hand to his ear and then hitting the well-dressed woman with a classic finger-guns. "Ahh, who else we got around here huh?" he questions aloud as he starts to wander away from his temporary audience, taking a sip from his wineglass while red ants with miniature cameras cling to his out-of-style red velour suit filming everything

Violet Paige has posed:
Inter-gang warfare is indeed a daily occurance in Gotham. As are the tasteless parties of the rich, famous and often nefarious. Violet is something of a regular at this sort of party. Unknown to most she's on the hunt for information too, but few would imagine that by looking at her.

Dressed in little black JvD dress along with a metal spiked leather jacket, punk-esque piercings and some designer shades (these parties are often too brightly lit for her hangover) she seems like your average heiress socialite brat. At least if you consider a multi-millionaire average.

It doesn't hurt she has a rather public reputation as Gothams wild child party girl. Rehab stays or fights with the media you name it there's a story about Violet doing it.

And while she most intentionally doesn't fit in here she's clearly tolerated. Even if she is doing a decent job of drinking the hotel dry of top shelf bourbon...

Scott Lang has posed:
     Scott is doing a fair job keeping his drinking a lot lighter, more used to a couple of beers next to a grill then the strong liquors and bottomless glasses at work here. More than one glass is subtly poured out in some poor potted plant around the outskirts of the room as he works the crowd, recording faces and names, collecting a few numbers and cards from people interested in his 'services' as one of the areas new 'up and comers' for hire. Schmoozing his way through with a corny joke or two.

     Now food, food he had no problem putting away as he absconds with the better part of a platter when he manages to get away from all the 'not quite saying what we mean' talk that was always about having a job for you without stating what the job was. Even here most people were a bit more tight-lipped. With plate piled high with hors d'oeuvres, Scott tries to find a quiet spot to eat in peace for a minute or two, twisting around to try and squeeze by Violet, another crowd of people just behind her leaving only a narrow gap.

     It was always going to be a mistake to try and squeeze by spikes with velour though. There's the faintest tug and then Violet can feel herself getting pulled as Scott instinctively tries to pull harder, the red soft fabric caught on one of her fashionable spikes. "Hey let go!" he demands, his back still to her unaware what's snagged as he tries to free himself.

Violet Paige has posed:
Violet is remarkably unmoving for a socialite. Cybernetics making her far sturdier than she looks. She's not however remarkably patient or considerate of others. So when Scott starts making demands... Well he's lucky he doesn't get hit with a bottle.

Instead she sloshes her drink over his head. "Cool it creep," she snaps. "And you should be getting the hell off /me/."

The bar staff clearly are used to Violet throwing drinks. Already pouring a replacement out for her.

Scott Lang has posed:
     Scott manages to pull away at last...wet and with an evident tear in his red jacket, a scrap of velour dangling from Violet's jacket like a bit of textile viscera. Ordinarily Scott would of course be the type to stammer out an apology and just walk away, and he's about to do just that. "H-hey whoa I'm..." when he sees a couple of faces turned their way. He was supposed to be a dangerous criminal for hire. He couldn't just take this kind of thing lying down as his fake hair drips over his eyes. Pushing it back out of the way he flashes a cocky smirk and hooks his thumbs into his belt.

     "Well hey it's alright. I mean if you wanted to tear my clothes off you only had to ask you know my lil mamacita," he notes before actually giving her a wink so big and obvious it could be seen from space. And on the inside wondering 'is this girl old enough to drink? I hope Cassie is asleep by now. Oh gods I'm gonna have to buy another jacket, this thing was like 30 bucks...'

Violet Paige has posed:
Violet finally turns in the direction of 'Eric' and offers him a look of such withering scorn it's possible it'll remind him of his divorce. Her hand holding the now empty glass tenses, as if she's considering throwing it after the bourbon, before she pulls the sunglasses down far enough to obviously roll her eyes.

"Your /what/?"

With the sunglasses pulled down she might look vaguely familiar. She's often graced the covers of Gotham newspapers. Even occasionally making it into the national papers after particularly note-worthy scandals.

"The only people who'd want to remove that jacket are the ones wanting to burn it before it offends anyone important."

Scott Lang has posed:
     She wasn't the first tabloid face Scott had seen tonight, but she was the first to actually pay him attention, most of the more famous folks preferring to have their intermediaries interact with the 'hired' help like he was supposed to be. A few people are chuckling now at the show making it all the harder to walk away and he's thankful now for the drink she poured on his head as it hides the sweat that would be breaking out on his brow otherwise. The heiress with the attitude, she, she really wasn't going to back down was she? He needed a distraction and while he didn't have his full suit on he still had an earpiece in that let him control his ants, a small grouping of them parading down his leg and heading for Violet. They weren't exactly quick though.

     "Mamacita. That's Spanish for hot momma. I'm a bit of a world traveler you know, pick up all sorts of things like that," he boasts as if the slang hadn't been featured on TV for years and years. He makes a little flourish to remove his jacket then, swinging it over his shoulder showing off more of his white dress shirt which had enough top buttons undone to showcase chest hair even less people wanted to see than the jacket.

     "Don't worry your pretty little head over it though. I don't want to distract you from any more of your drinking. You might sober up, and that really would be a story for the tabloids, first time in years," he stings at her, making as if to turn away as if he'd gotten the last word in, even a few folks nearby going 'oooooh.' He hoped he had but the ants go marching on towards her just in case while his heart pounds in his chest. He couldn't afford a big incident, please, please, just let him have the last word...

Violet Paige has posed:
"I'm sure you've picked up all kinds of things," Violet agrees when 'Eric' talks about his world travels. "Chlamydia, gonorrhea perhaps even syphilis." She turns her back on him. Reaching for her replacement drink without a care in the world.

It also helps that the move gets the chest hair out of line of sight.

Her hand flicks up and she flips 'Eric' the bird over her shoulder. A gesture she's so used to making her aim is exceptional. "Whatever."

It's not quite letting 'Eric' get away without further response. But with her new drink in hand Violet does at least seem to have lost interest in him for now.

Scott Lang has posed:
     Getting flipped off he could live with, Scott figured by now he'd at least shown he wasn't scared of some tabloid heiress. Giving the ants still on his jacket time to scurry onto his shoulders he heads for the nearest restroom and trashes it, drying his wig under one of the hand dryers while nobody was present and then readjusting it on his head. Looking at himself in the mirror a bit he checks in with other ants he has spread through the room, mics and trackers settling into place. Literally having the room 'bugged' as it were. "I really hope this was all worth that jacket," he mutters to himself. He really liked that awful, awful look.