14385/The roaring twenty-somethings

The roaring twenty-somethings
Date of Scene:	11 March 2023
Location:	Lily Anne's Lounge - Hellfire Club
Synopsis:	Sue and Alison share a drink and talk the potential of selling people.... I mean auctioning them... wait no, it's not what it sounds like.
Cast of Characters:	Susan Richards, Alison Blaire

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Susan Richards has posed:
When does Susan Richards sleep is a question that's been asked literally hundreds of times in various publications covering business, charity work, and general superheroic activities. What these articles and glitzy, puff piece profiles and human interest stories miss is that along with all her public profile, Susan _also_ functions as White Queen of the Hellfire Club.

So the real question is _does_ Susan Richards sleep? The answer is yes. Just not as often as she should. But that's what chemical stimulants are for. And while some may expect her to use the most efficient, effective stimulants around, AKA the Janet van Dyne method, Susan uses good old fashioned caffeine and pure focused willpower.

Which is how she's found in Lily Anne's Lounge one Saturday morning, and while it's early for the cocktails the bar is renowned for, when you're in charge you get to bend the rules. Really, if anything, it's tradition. And so she holds a sizable stark white mug, steam rising from the dark surface of the coffee filling it. She lifts the mug to her lips for a sip, eyes closing. She sighs out softly murmuring quietly, a wordless noise as some thought running through her head nearly crosses wires to slip free as a verbalization. But then, she's busy planning a family vacation (To SPACE!) and the upcoming Mardi Gras party. And a support group for people of unique nature. It might be a minor miracle she's only drinking a mug of coffee, and not an entire carafe.

Her eyes sweep the room as she shifts in her seat, one long leg crossed over the other at the knee, body highlighted by the glossy white cling of her... ceremonial? White Queen attire. Would she be more comfortable in a warm turtleneck and slacks? Yes. Literally. But it's important to remind the employees who she is when she makes these appearances. And to remind the club membership as well. Besides, for the cost of the membership, they deserve some eye candy.

Alison Blaire has posed:
There's something to be said for the safety the Hell Fire Club provides to the exclusive membership. One such individual, Alison Blaire, often uses it to get away from the vengeful eye of the constant stream of cameras that follow her anywhere she goes while in New York City. She's tried lesser methods, of course. Disguises, security teams, and tinted windows. But sometimes a girl just wants to let her hair down and not be bothered.

She is reknowned for being very involved with her fans and the press. She does podcasts, interview shows, and she'll stop to talk to anyone... most of the time. She's only human, albeit a very powerful one, however. Tonight is one of those nights where she couldn't be assed to talk to a little kid wanting her autograph even if they were dying of some terminal disease.

She's not Sue Storm, but she /is/ a very busy person.

Between charity concerts, tour dates, and the private show she books for friends.. there's release parties, club appearances, and any number of celebrity functions to which her manager says her attendance isn't up for debate.

Which is why she's here because even her manager can't mess with her here.

Wearing something more suitable for the lilith fare than the a Gin Joint in the 20s, she has on a pair bell-bottom jeans that hug to her shapely hips, platform heels, and a t-shirt that's been cut off only a few short inches beneath her bustline. A series of himp necklaces dangle down the low cut top with her blonde hair bundled up around a similarly made corded headband. With enough wrist bobble to make Cindy Laper green with envy.

She also looks exhausted. Like someone who could really use some of the Janet Van Dyne special... but will settle for a drink in the earliest part of the evening. So she's headed for the bar where she sees none other than the White Queen herself, Susan Storm-Richards... of whom she's understandably a huge fan. Rather than pester, since that would be the definition of hypocracy, she waves to the most famous woman in the world, and slides up onto a stool to order a glass of bourbon neat.

Susan Richards has posed:
As Susan surveys her domain... or a small portion of it, she supposes it's inevitable that the solitude of club employees dutifully ignoring her and tidying up from the night before and stocking up for the prime portion of night ahead would be interrupted. The question was always by who and for what reason.

Her daughter's favorite pop starlet? That was not something she expected.

Her eyebrows perk, for lack of other ability to greet Ms. Blaire mid-sip. But that sip becomes something more ambitious, not quite a /chug/, but... Susan finishes her coffee as efficiently as possible lest she leave her fellow blonde lacking for socialization too long.

Her mug is settled down on the table next to her seat as she rises up smoothly. Almost too smoothly... but why /not/ enjoy a little lift from an invisible forcefield so one's not left clambering up in an ungainly mess to rise on those sharp heels? She smiles warmly as she strides towards the bar, "Miss Blaire! Alison, if it's not /too/ familiar?"

Her eyebrows perk in genuine question. She may be powerful, but she /is/ polite as well. Not just the veneer of politeness, it's genuine. Though her eyes wander the woman curiously, eyebrows perking as she murmurs playfully, "So you're not one of the ones who dress up and slip in here to travel back in time... goodness, did you sneak in here because it's usually quite deserted except during the costume galas? Well, your secret's safe." She grins lopsidedly and murmurs playfully, "I won't even tell any of the other management."

Alison Blaire has posed:
Alison twists something between her hands, a long silver object that opens on one end with a twist. From the now open tube she retrieves a cigar which she rolls between her thumb and forefinger right beneath her nose. Enjoying the smell of what is, undoubtedly, a very expensive smoke. One of the benefits of being so rich that money becomes more of a plaything than a concern, right?

She is not unaware of the eyes on her. Specifically BECAUSE those eyes belong to Susan Richards. She smiles and nods, but hadn't expected to be joined. That's a pleasant surprise, "Oh.. yeah, Alison's fine. I'm a huge fan, by the way. You probably get that a lot." She holds up the cigar, likewise raising a brow in a way that accentuates her question, "Bother you if I light this?"

Most places are smoke free in NYC.

Hell Fire Club you could, for the right price, probably get away with actual murder. So it's less a concern whether it's okay, as if it would bother Sue.

As for her attire, she laughs and shrugs, "Usually I would have come in full costume, but I was just slipping in for a drink. Trying to keep a low profiel.." Thus finding the one section of the club where there would be the fewest people. Much the same as Sue had, it turns out.

"I appreciate it, Ms Richards." She doesn't even ask if she can call her Sue. That's something offered, not requested.

Susan Richards has posed:
Sue laughs softly, her lips quirking, eyes glinting playfully as she appraises Alison and her little ritual with the cigar, "Oh, I'm a fan of you, so I suppose we'll have to... merely accept our mutual admiration?" Eyebrows pop a little higher as she settles her hip onto a stool and gestures to the bartender to get her own bourbon, murmuring dryly. "Admittedly, I'm not as big a fan as my daughter, as you can tell because I'm not leaping up to the ceiling. She has all your posters."

Her head shakes and she grins broadly, "And not at all! Enjoy. Indulge. We're about being able to unwind and enjoy one's vices without concern. And... well, I'll admit, I did not listen to the /details/ of the air filtering systems here, but rest assured one cigar won't cause any trouble."

She laughs softly and sighs out, "Yes, it's nice to find these little havens in the club. Private without being quite _so_ private as the suites. Sometimes you want to relax in a public place that's... not /terribly/ public." She clicks her tongue softly and shakes her head, "And please, call me Susan! Or Sue. Don't let the formal attire fool you, I'm really quite approachable."

Alison Blaire has posed:
Alison is still turning the cigar beneath her nose because half the appeal is the pleasant aroma, but she does so with a grin on her lightly made up face. Which is to say, she's not in full stage design, which requires an actual professional to apply. A little blush, eyeshadow, and nude lipstick. So little that most would think she woke up this pretty.

"...Valeria, right? I think I met her a few years ago. Then at Nadia's birthday party." Because she owed Janet a favor, not that she's any probably doing private events for her friends. She really is highly involved with the public, most of the time. "Well, if I can give her an autograph or something, I'd be more than happy to." The irony that she came in to get away from that very thing, aside. This is an altogether different situation.

With an appreciative nod, she grabs a book of wooden matches from the bartop and flicks one into her palm to light the end of the cigar. It gives of an immediate aroma, more so after her cheeks hollow in a few quick puffs. The last ends in a long sigh with smoke curling out the bottom of her jutting jaw.

With her cigar lit, held in a way that lets the smoke coil around her, she turns on her stool to properly face Susan. A sip from her bourbon, then she nods while savoring, "Exactly. Sometimes you just want to be yourself without having to put up the image everyone expects of you.." Motioning around the lounge with a grin.

The offer of familarity is accepted with a twinkle in her blue eyes, "Sue. I try to be... I really do, but sometimes, I swear.. People get on my nerves." Realizing how that must sound, she gulps and laughs, "I don't mean you, obviously. If anything I feel like I'd be more likely to bother you."

Susan Richards has posed:
Sue continues to watch Alison with intent eyes, focused entirely on the pop star as she fights a grin, "Yes. That's her. Younger, smarter version of me... well, not entirely of me, but we share some similarities." She sighs out softly and murmurs dryly, "Now now, no need for that. She's started attending the galas here, so if she wants an autograph she can find you herself. ...Though I may change my mind if we get closer to her birthday and I haven't thought of a gift yet."

Susan watches that little lighting ritual with approval, and as the scent of smoke fills the air, inhales just a touch deeper than she has been, murmuring dryly, "You know, I feel like enjoying secondhand smoke is probably downright /ridiculous/ of me, but..." She shrugs lightly and grins impishly, "Why have this club except to indulge in the sort of pleasures that rank as ridiculous in one aspect or another, no?"

As Sue's own bourbon arrives, she lifts it for a sip, torn between an appreciative murmur as she savours the liquor, and a sympathetic grimace to Alison's weariness of dealing with the public. "Oh goodness, no, I understand entirely. It's... really the curse of being a public figure isn't it? You need to be 'on' all the time. People expect you to be gracious and friendly and exactly the same as they see you on the television. Even if you're rushing across the airport to make a connecting flight." She smirks lopsidedly, "Well, perhaps that's only to a certain point. Eventually you just get to fly charter, hm? And nonsense. I _never_ consider mingling with a club member to be bothersome. I wouldn't have been a member for so long myself if I didn't enjoy the company around here."

Alison Blaire has posed:
"Let me know." Alison says around the cigar in her teeth, puffing another mouthful of the flavorful smoke that she allows to roll out from her open lips, across the surface of her entire tongue. "Hell, I wouldn't be against playing a birthday party, if you thought she'd get a kick out of it? Certainly wouldn't be the first time." Aformentioned Nadia party. On the moon. Or something...

Because all super hero parties held by filthy rich people are on the moon. Contractually. Alison is not, quite, that loaded, but one day. If she keeps playing those venues and working those crowds? A girl can dream.

"Mmm. I don't come as often as I'd like, honestly. I'm usually at the mansion when I'm in New York, which is getting rarer and rarer." A little frown and a half shrug of one shoulder lifting and she sips at her bourbon. The perfect combination for a good cigar. Literally the only time she smokes them, actually. "Perhaps I should remedy that though? It's certainly a place I feel a lot more comfortable. The older I get, that is.." Or the more famous? There's a solidarity amongst the membership who all face these same concerns, in their own way.

"I can't remember the last time I flew comericial.. which isn't a flex at all.. I'd rather pay way more to fly private and not deal with the hassle than even first class can offer." She by no means has her own plane, but again a girl can dream. "Sometimes just getting a salad is impossible, though. And forget about going on a date.. pffh.. that's going on the cover of some websites tabloid section." She rolls her eyes and leans onto her elbows.

"Well, I appreciate that, at least. You're pretty easy to talk to and I can imagine you're more than aware of the concerns I'm voicing anyways. So I don't feel like I'm complaining to a void."

Susan Richards has posed:
Sue laughs softly and murmurs out, "Oh, she's too old for me to be planning parties for her. I'm sure I'd have gone /quite/ mad if my parents had been planning parties for me when I was in my twenties." She pauses for a moment, "And I wasn't capable of becoming yet another of the world's misguided mad scientists. So..." She shrugs helplessly, "Val will have to communicate her birthday desires more directly. But perhaps we'll do something."

Susan hums thoughtfully, "Though I imagine she /might/ have a party... if not on the moon, I know her and the others at GIRL do have their spaceship. And they managed to use it without being exposed to cosmic radiation. So..." She shrugs lightly and sighs out lightly, "Well, I suppose that alone is proof she's got a good head on her shoulders."

Susan makes soft, sympathetic noises as Alison unloads those pressures of celebrity, noises of empathy and understanding until she murmurs dryly, "Well, I'd recommend the club as an option for dating with carefully controlled security to avoid exposure to tabloids. But... I think a dating service for the powerful and wealthy is almost... too traditional for the club's reputation. Dating sounds so... traditional and /exclusive/ that it would probably send shocked murmurs through the club. You know, an organization renowned, deservedly or not, for hedonistic excess holding a singles mixer night? But... hm, perhaps it's not so bad an idea. Couched in proper trappings it could even be... fun!"

Alison Blaire has posed:
"Hey, you never know. Some moms plan their kids parties well into their thirties." Alison says with a rueful grin, chewing on the end of her cigar for a seond, before laying it down on a small ashtray to smolder out. The other beautiful thing about a well made cigar. "Alas, mine was not so well versed in that particular parentage. Her best attempt was to try to capitalize on my talents for her personal gain."

The popstar turns and leans against the bar with one arm laid out across it, while the other absently turns her bourbon with the tips of her fingers. Periodically lifting it for a sip, with a smirk peeling off from the lip of the glass. "They have a spaceship." She nods-shakes her head in one fluid motion. "Of course they have a spaceship."

It is not at all surprising.

Almost as the notion of a Hell Fire mixer, which warrents a good natured laugh, "Well I very rarely date, regardless of whether I am able to or not. It's hard to find someone who doesn't get a little jealous when I'm on tour." She's not complaining, however. "I could, however, see a dating 'auction'... that seems far more inline with the... uh.. theme.. of the Club?" The smile makes it all the way to her blue eyes in the form of a twinkle.

Susan Richards has posed:
Susan nods and smiles lopsidedly, almost sadly as she murmurs dryly, "Well, I'll consider it. Honestly, I think Valeria appreciates me just not... stopping her from attending the club. In retrospect, I suppose the fact that she received a Legacy membership just because of mine and Reed's celebrity before she was born is... unusual." She shrugs a helpless little shrug. That was all before she became more involved in the club herself, after all.

Susan sips her own drink leisurely and laughs softly, "They _built_ a spaceship. Themselves. Barely let Reed doublecheck their math on the safety margins I think." Her lips quirk in a sardronic little grimace, "But then again, given his most famous space expedition perhaps that makes sense." Oh, no, she'll never let her husband live down her family's most iconic misadventure.

Susan sighs again and rolls her head back, whole body arching in a slow, languid motions as she groans softly, pausing with her back arched until her head is nearly parallel to the floor and facing backwards, holding that posture. "Oh. My. A bachelor auction perhaps?" She clicks her tongue and murmurs dryly, "Do you think I could get away with paying some woman to bid on Namor and keep him occupied?"

She straightens up, her own blue eyes glinting playfully as she murmurs out dryly, "Given his penchant for... focus on blondes, perhaps Ms. Frost. My dear Alison, I think you've just struck a spark of inspiration in me!"

Alison Blaire has posed:
"Makes sense though. If anyone was going to earn a legacy membership, it would be the daughter of the most family in the world?" Alison says with her own wry grin directed at the subject of the compliment. It's rare that she gets to rub elbows with someone on the same spectrum as the Hapsburgs... without all the other things that might come with being a Hapsburg. She sips at her drink and sets it back down, nodding out to the club with her blue eyes slowly turning to take it all in.

"Heh, I barely passed science and I'd be more likely to understand Sumarian than math equations, so I can't even concieve of the necessary minerals one must have to build an actual spaceship." Whether ill-fated or not. The Reed family misadventure has several MOVIES based on it, so she's no stranger. It's still a pretty impressive mishap, all things considered.

"He's the Atlantis guy, right? Fish man, with the wings on his feet?" She murmurs thoughtfully and snort laughs. "I could see it... Though Emma would probably eat him alive. She kind of terrifies me, honestly. You never know what's going through her head.. and she always knows what's going through yours." Having grown up amongst some of the most powerful telepaths ever known certainly has left an impression on Ali... and a healthy fear.

"Well.. I don't always have great ideas, but when I do, they're pretty good." A twinkle to her eye turned to regard Sue stretching out like that. There's a little curve to her brow and she mimics the pose, albeit with a little less flare. "Just doing my part. I'm sure it'll be the talk of the town, if you're putting it together."

Susan Richards has posed:
Susan laughs softly and murmurs dryly, "Well, honestly, I'm less worried about Val and her membership than Johnny. But that really is only logical. I _know_ Valeria has some amount of common sense."

Susan leans over and stage whispers, "Truthfully? After a certain point, the math stops being math. I /get/ math. I understand balances and interest rates and... all the business related equations... but eventually? I just nod at Reed or Val and murmur. A good, non-committal murmur will get you through most scientist conversations."

She sighs out and bobs her head with a laugh, "Yes. That's him. /Apparently/ I made a bit of an impression and having two kids and being married for over twenty years since we... ah... /met/..." She shrugs lightly and sighs out, "I guess that doesn't make things clear? He still insists we have a drink now and then, and I can't just throw him out a window. For one thing, he's also a club member, so it would be rather gauche of me. And also he's a leader of a sovereign nation and all. So I endure."

She smiles and bobs her head, "Well, if I'm putting one on, I assure you you'll have the first invitation."

Alison Blaire has posed:
"So all I need do is mumble something noncommental..." Alison inclines her head in mock thoughtfulness to some unspoken scientific conversation, speaking quietly with a few "hmmms." and "Ahs..." Then adds, "The square root, you say. Interesting conclusion.." She starts laughing and shakes her head with a self depricating eye roll.

"I sometimes listen to Kitty and Hank talk science and I start to completely understand why teachers always wanted you to show your work. Because most of that shit sounds made up." Her hand ticks back and forth, indicating what shit she's talking about, by motioning at everything. Specifically, however, maybe gravity?

Or physics.

Or any number of 'mmake shit up science.

Which leads pretty effortlessly into dating. "Some guys don't take hints very well, do they? You're much better than me, still humoring him. I don't think his status as a seovereign ruler relieves him of a need to read a room." Another grin, this one just as playful.

"I'll absolutely be there. I may even offer to be auctioned off, so long as you promise you wont let some weirdo pay for me."

Susan Richards has posed:
Sue's teeth squeeze her lower lip, biting to fight back a grin as Alison demonstrates instant, impressive instincts for Sue's personal performative process for dealing with technobabble. But she can't fully fight back the laugh as Alison bemoans the reasoning behind showing your work in school and gives into a peal of soft, but genuine laughter.

"That... is... yes. Very true. I'll be honest, the more you're exposed to high minded and advanced science? ...Well, the more it stays the same. Just nod and smile. Always nod and smile."

She shrugs lightly and sighs, "Well, as flattering as the headline 'Susan Richards causes war with the surface world by rejecting Emperor Namor' would be to put in a scrapbook, it really does seem like an awful lot of inconvenience to deal with just for an ego boost." She perks her eyebrows and lets a low, thoughtful murmur out as Alison mentions being there for the prospective party. And the potential of auctioning her off.

"Oh, I don't know about auctioning /you/. I mean, as the presumptive hostess of the auction, I think I should have first dibs on such a stunning bachelorette! ...Does that still count as a weirdo paying for you? I am quite eccentric. Once you're rich enough, it's definitely 'eccentric'."

Alison Blaire has posed:
Alison's expression is one of relaxed enjoyment as she sits casually laughing about how silly smart people sound when they talk about smart people stuff. Not to mention everything else, she joins in Sue's laughter with that same shaking head directed at her own interpretation of Sue's expert level (it'd have to be with her family) misdirection skills. Husband and Daughter are both big brains...

"I have no idea how you do it." Not that Sue herself isn't brilliant in her own right, but Reed is on some whole other shit. She lets the grin stay on her face when glancing fully on the White Queen, "If only the world knew the sacrifices you make for them, huh?" Daring to gently nudge her shoulder against her conversational companions.

"Oh... well no, I don't think you would be classified as a weirdo by any metric that /I'm/ using. Hell, that would be the best eventuality, if I'm being honest. Eccentric, in my opinion, is just another word for rich people fun." Most of the time. She doesn't seem to think Sue is being serious about buying her at said auction, however.

"You would absolutely get first dibs, as hostess... and after such sacrifices as drinks with Namor to keep him from invading the surface world? I dare say it would be MY pleasure."

Susan Richards has posed:
There's a soft little snort, a noise of pure amusement as she murmurs dryly, "Well, if nothing else then, I'll keep an eye out for you at the Mardi Gras party. If I can't auction you off to myself, I can at least ensure you have a fine night at one of our galas."

She grins crookedly and sighs out, puffing a breath before training the last of her bourbon and murmuring dryly, "Honestly, I'm afraid sometimes I think I'm terribly boring for being so rich. I think it's just because Janet... so effortlessly seems /absolutely/ wild?"

She shrugs helplessly, it's not like she's not used to her friend's antics. Not at all. For one thing, she still remembers the drinks before one of GIRL's expos. One doesn't usually expect drinking at a science expo. But a Janet van Dyne science expo is its own beast.

With her drink drained, Sue purrs out, "Oh! If you need something to eat, the steak salad at the Straitlaced is _delicious_. I mean, everything is delicious, but still."

Alison Blaire has posed:
"Hey, if you wanted to auction me off to yourself, I'd be downright giddy about it." Alison assures Sue with a wink, patting her arm, even if she's absolutely sure she's only teasing. "I always end up having fun at the Galas. I have a knack for finding the most interesting people in the room. Once it gets boring?" She flicks her wrist and snickers quietly, "But I've never heard of a boring Hell Fire party."

Which reminds her, "You know I've played Marti Gras two years ago.. which was an experience, to say the least." She inclines her head and blows out a long sigh, clearly more relaxed than she had been when she came in.

"Hah, yeah. Going out for drinks with Janet is a recipe for forgetting what day it is, but damn if it wont be a riot." That same grin playing on her face, albeit it with a raised brow.

"I did skip lunch.. a steak salad would be /amazing/.. Have you eaten, yet?"

Susan Richards has posed:
Susan rises smoothly from her stool, eyes glinting playfully as she murmurs dryly, "Oh, that's because there /are/ no boring Hellfire parties. If you find the party boring, you wander and explore until you find something exciting. It's really the guiding principle of the entire operation." She sounds so very certain of that. After all, as far as most are concerned, that's _all_ the truth of the club is.

She perks her eyebrows, "Oh my! I missed the parties a couple years ago. Just got back into things more... enthusiastically last year. Realized I was going too far on the work end of the work-life balance." She offers her hand with a lopsided little smile, one eyebrow arching. "Oh, I'm terrible for remembering to eat, honestly. It's kind of a problem sometimes... I had a light breakfast, but I won't turn down such a charming lunch date. Shall we?"

Alison Blaire has posed:
Alison slides off the stool when Sue does and drains the rest of the bourbon from her glass. The cigar is left because carrying that around would be inconvenient and she's not a person who does inconvenient things. "That's always been my approach to... basically everything. If it's boring, go find something that's not." Which is rare indeed when the Hell Fire Club is involved.

With a grin, she hoops her arm so that Sue can link her's through it. "They were something special, to be sure. I was dating Warren Worthington at the time, however. So I wasn't able to get up to /quite/ as much trouble..." A knowing smirk as they head out to get a little late lunch. "I have that same bad habit. Hours without eating until I'm feeling weak and don't exactly know why."

"Well, charm is part of the gig. A carefully cultivated talent."