14445/British Black Tie (2018)

British Black Tie (2018)
Date of Scene:	18 March 2023
Location:	Manchester Fashion Show
Synopsis:	In this throwback scene, Janet van Dyne meets Brian Braddock for the first time.
Cast of Characters:	Janet van Dyne, Brian Braddock

---

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Manchester, England. 2018.

One of the fashion capitols of England, Manchester is second only to London in terms of style and fashion sensibility. The London shows are booked out months in advance by some of the biggest labels and artists in the world.

For an up-and-coming private label like JvD, it's a more affordable option and offers much better access to the cognoscenti of the fashion world. It gives her facetime with the people looking for something no one else has, rather than those trying to rub elbows with the Fortune 500 companies that are setting fashion trends for the next years.

It also means Janet van Dyne, 20 years old and the clear attache to Hank Pym's 'Ant-Man', is relishing a chance to get out on her own. Not his adjunct, but on her own two feet. She's wearing a relatively modest toga-style dress, with golden clasps at her shoulders and a chain around her slender waist. Stiletto sandals, matching rings and a bangle, and a subtle scent of floral perfume lingers around her.

Unfortunately Hank's presence is less helpful than obtrusive to the point of annoyance, and she's having a Very Polite conversation with him at the back of her display booth.

"Sweetie, I can do this on my own," she assures Hank. Champagne bubbles merrily near her shoulder, and a large diamond ring glitters on her left hand. "In fact, I need to do this on my own. Otherwise--"

"Janet, I'm just trying to--" Hank lifts his hands with his most earnest expression, but to his surprise Janet cuts him off by putting her fingers on his knuckles and lowering one hand. "--/Otherwise/," she stresses, "people are going to assume I'm here to sell some technological fabrics. Which I'm not doing. So--" she squeezes his hand against her face, and lets it drop. "Please just go get something to eat at the buffet, and I'll let you know when I need a break. OK?"

Hank hesitates, but nods once and sets off. Janet keeps the smile pasted on her face until he's around hte corner, then lets the mask slip off with a shoulder-slumping sigh. A server passes by with a platter of drinks and Janet pauses him long enough to drain her champagne glass and swap for a fresh one.

"I should have packed some Legos for him or something," she mumbles under her breath, and drifts back to the front of the displays to flash that photo-ready smile for any curious passers-by.

Brian Braddock has posed:
For the experienced in the world of glitterati and high-end affairs, the way Janet downs her drinks is like a thread of blood in the water. Some smile to themselves. How quaint: another innocent debutante thinking she's got something the world's never seen. Who's taking bets on how long it takes for her to be gummed, spat out, and left to drag in the wake of broken dreams? For others, it's opportunity. New ideas, new visions, a new set of eyes on a world revolving around art given substance? Ooh.

For still others, curiosity because not only due to the stabilizing drink, but the displays showcased at the booth itself. Might as well look, right? Just in case there's that //spark// of genius recognizable.

Also, it's the smile. Who can resist a smile?

Not one twenty year-old Brian Braddock, he a mere year into his secret heroics. Comfortable in his tuxedo both understated and sleek, his own champagne glass contains an amount of liquid and bubbles yet. He slows...stops entirely...before wandering over. "I don't believe I've seen such a cut before," the man notes as he looks over the design in question. 'Cut' also applies to his accent: British, crisp, well-educated. "Rather bold." Blue eyes rise to Janet's face. "Which is something needed in this world."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet turns to face Brian with that plastic smile still fixed in place. While he speaks she gives him a flickering up-and-down. If someone were to think her a vapid socialite engaging in a little 'professional hobby', that look would dismiss it. In a glance she makes a cutting assessment of the blonde man towering over her. Her conclusion seems favorable-- or at least the plastic smile becomes something much more civil.

"Mm, laying it on a little thick," she advises Brian glibly. "But I'm a sucker for flattery so I'll give you a pass."

Janet looks at the mannequin; it wears a business skirtsuit in a shade of electrical blue that can be only described as 'violently intense'. "But I am trying to shake things up a little," she agrees, and walks towards another mannequin. She seems to assume Brian will follow in her wake. Her asymmetrical skirt hem whispers against her bare knees. Janet makes a little loop around the mannequin while Brian nears, and stops next to it in a nearly identical photo-ready pose. It's a sleek looking dress in ivory, with subtle structuring in the fabric and vertical seams that divide it into thirds. It flares into a square bracket that frames out the mannequin's collarbone and throat. Stylish, relatively modest, but at the same time the casual show of fashion sense that markedly declares the wearer to be a woman aware of her beauty and unconcerned with how people see her expressing it. "And this one? What do you think?" she asks Brian, and rebalances her feet under her to a more comfortable stance.

Brian Braddock has posed:
"I rather say you've succeeded thus far." Brian gives the mannequin with its searingly-bright hues another once-over himself and then meanders after the petite fashionista. Bringing his champagne to his lips, he sips as he looks over the second offering on display.

"Refined. Again, bold," he repeats, giving Janet now a friendly, polite smile. "Perhaps my word of the evening and I should endeavor to find others. Novel. A statement without excessive punctuation and yet, poetry in the form of the one who wears such a creation." At this point, it seems only proper to offer out a hand to exchange shakes. "Brian Braddock."

The missing title surely won't be missed in turn; the man seems unconcerned that he's omitted it as is.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"You know, the Brits are the only people in the world who talk like they swallowed a thesaurus," Janet says, and rests her fingers on Brian's palm. "And, who can get away with it. Janet van Dyne. Charmed, I'm sure," she says, and affects a perfect little curtsey down to the flicker of her skirt through two fingertips. She bobs in place with all the grace of an aristocrat and not an ounce of servility, and reclaims her hand from Brian a beat later.

She gestures at a nearby mannequin wearing a tan pantsuit; it towers over Janet by a few inches, in tan slacks and a matching jacket with a white corset-style top underneath it. Shoes and purse match it, down to the gold buckles on the clothing. "This is for someone with a darker complexion. The camel-tan brown would set off black hair and green eyes quite nicely. Then we go with ivory for the accents and to match the corset top. Someone more modest could pair this with a couple of our different undershirts quite comfortably," she says, and holds up a teardrop neckline blouse for a visual.

"The biggest problem with women's fashion in business has been that it's bee designed to appeal to the male gaze," Janet explains, and flickers out the jacket so it sits better. The jacket is virtually seamless save for the arms, and designed such that it holds in place without the need for a single visible button. "My-- /our/ suits," she amends, "dispense with being just feminized male fashion. It's designed to actually fit women rather than forcing them to conform. The best part, though--" she reaches under the mannequin's jacket and produces a cleverly-mounted cellphone that would be invisible under the jacket. "Our outfits have *pockets*."

Brian Braddock has posed:
Charmed? "Enchante," echoes the gentleman as he gives Janet's lightly-landed fingers a gentle squeeze. She rises up and he returns his hand to rested at the base of the campagne flute wherein they start a thoughtful fidgeting slide about its rounded shape. Back and forth, back and forth, over a centimeter's worth of curve.

As patient and interested as a student before a lecture, Brian looks over the mannequin's display of slacks and jacket. He nods, his regard flickering to Janet quickly at her note of 'black hair and green eyes'. What a little smile, there and gone, before he sips his bubbly. When Janet reveals the coup de grace of outmoded fashion?

Brian can't help but crack a far more obvious grin.

"My sister would already be in love with such a devising, Miss van Dyne. I suspect I may have to give her a call about such a clothing line." Reaching out, he tests the feel of the fabric in use between thumb and forefinger. "Comfort, style, utility. You'll have your slice of the market quite soon, I hazard."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Well, that's what I'm here for," Janet says, and flickers a smile at Brian. "The company is growing by leaps and bounds. We started with ten million in capital and our revenue this year is on track for fifty. Sales are increasing by 125% quarterly and I've contracted overseas manufacturing and distribution to supplement our quarters in Brooklyn. I'm hoping to break ground on a flagship store in Manhattan in the next year or two," she tells Brian. "And if this growth keeps steady, maybe an IPO in a few years too," she says with an optimistic tone.

"Right now your sister can get our clothing from our main shop or via online distribution." She givens Brian's outfit another appraising once-over. "We do some limited custom fitting for more discerning clients, too. You probably saw Francesca Moliere wearing one of our dresses at the Oscars this year," she suggests, and waves at a nearby terminal a few times until a picture of that notable pops up on the screen wearing an outfit of candy-apple red. j

Brian Braddock has posed:
The numbers Janet quotes has the Brit looking overtly impressed thus far. Another sip of his champagne wets his palate and centers him all the more -- something needed after those verdant eyes strafe down and up his own duds.

"I //do// remember Miss Moliere," he readily admits even as the fashionista summons up further proof of her company's success. "It was quite the striking look. As many, I'm fond of the color, though I couldn't tell you if I could do it justice myself." Now Janet gets a contemplative look she's surely seen before. The question may even be somewhat predictable given her own subtle conversational prompting: "Were I to take your business card and inform my sister of your efforts, might you be inclined to take on a new discerning client?"

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet's brows lift minutely and she nods once at Brian. "Of course," she says, and steps around him-- *almost* brushing past him, really-- to head back to the little counter in the booth with chairs and a computer atop it. There's a stack of business cards and she deals one into her free hand and offers it over to Brian. "I'll be back for London fashion week and doing a round in Milan shortly thereafter," Janet informs him, and flashes a more than merely polite smile at him. "It'd be nice to meet you and your sister there, if you're in the area?" she remarks with a subtly inviting tone. "And you're always welcome to swing through New York and visit."

Brian Braddock has posed:
Knowing there's steps for the fashionista to take, after she sways past him? Brian takes another moment to squint up at the ceiling as he tips his glass to his lips for a finishing of his champagne. Maybe another flute in good time.

After this, he turns and saunters after Janet, the better to take the offered card. It's flipped over to see both sides before the gentleman looks up almost from under his brows. A server walks past and Brian takes the moment to swap his empty flute for a full one and a second for Janet, just in case, perhaps. The business card remains pinched snug between his fingers in practiced ease, sticking out from pointer and middling pairing.

"I'll certainly speak to Betsy. I did promise you and your brand a proper proposal and I'm a man of my word." The second glass is offered to Janet now. "And my studies take me to many places, so...should I find my feet upon the streets of New York City? You shall surely be made aware," he smiles, the expression fully reaching through to warm his eyes.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet's fingers brush Brian's hand as he speaks, but when he says 'Betsy' she freezes in place while her brain lurches into some other gear entirely. His last words are nearly overridden by a hand Janet holds aloft, palm facing him.

"Betsy. /Braddock/," Janet says, making it a flat declaration. "Elizabeth, right? She had the cover of Cosmo in 2016, I think-- May?" she hazards.

"I know the name because she beat out a friend of mine for the spot. I didn't-- /huh/," Janet says, breaking off with her tongue in her cheek. She sets her weight back on her rear foot and stares at Brian's face. "I mean, she's hot, and you--" she gestures vaguely. "I don't know what they're feeing you in England," she says, glibly. "Or is it something in the water around the family farm?" she quips.

Brian Braddock has posed:
Brian too seems to briefly freeze up in surprise. His nonchalance of self-introduction has seemingly been blown right out of the water and it's of his own doing.

"For the month of May, yes," he confirms nonetheless of his sister's accomplishment even as he tucks away the business card into his tuxedo jacket pocket. Ah, //pockets//. It allows him time to once more draw on habit to try and cover how Janet's line of questioning has him mildly on the back-foot.

This requires another mouthful of champagne.

Yet again, a little smile graces his features. "Something in the tea," he surmises, equally urbane, accepting and acknowledging the compliment in one go. "We are twins, Betsy and I -- you're quite brave if you use Elizabeth, she reserves this for only a few people. I take it you know her personally? She would approve of your pantsuit, the one in the...light tan." Extending his finger off the flute, he gestures down and up the design before glancing back to Janet. "Granted, she lacks the green eyes you thought would suit it best." Sip of bubbly, lifted brows at the owner of apparently green eyes.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet shakes her head negatively. "I only know her professionally, and by reputation," she reassures Brian. "I modeled for IMG for a few years," she clarifies. "Unfortunately once I turned seventeen, my competition all kept growing but I didn't. Still, I'm part of the community. My MFA director hired me to run her last fashion show before I graduated and opened my label, and I remember seeing Eliz-- /Betsy's/-- name on the list."
% "Anyway." She flickers that thought aside with a gesture. "So.... twins, huh?" The expression that flickers on her face is shamelessly contemplative and gone just as fast, leaving it a question of Brian even deciphering it fully. She quirks a sly smile and pulls her computer up, typing with an efficient clack of nails on keyboard before whipping it around to show him. It looks like Betsy, wearing a sweater-vest with a punk band on it, with the stiffly starched collar of a polo shirt under it. It's hard to tell if the sweater's just long or indencently short to be paired with the black-and-red climbing roses on the leggings. The leather jacket finishes the look up.

"New fitting software I had my husband design," she tells Brian. "What do you think?"

On-screen, unbeknowsnt to Janet, the image of Betsy is slowly getting hugely distorted, shrinking and widening until she looks like a punk rock girl with a height deficiency and glandular issue.

Brian Braddock has posed:
"Ah, I see." Now knowing of just //how// Janet managed to connect the family name, the gentleman yet again sips of his champagne. It seems to be keeping the nerves down thus far. Promising himself a cuppa and some research when he finds quiet again, he shifts in place to disperse the subtle antsy-ness starting to make itself known. "Twins, yes, fraternal," Brian confirms of that musing question, his brows twitching in and out of a parrying and unspoken query of his own. But now?

There's a computer to distract. Brian's still musing over this fashionable importance of being twins...at least, he thinks it's about the fashion, when the imagery is displayed.

"Oh, look at that," he comments beneath Janet's explanation. His nod is at first politely enthused before it stutters entirely to see the warping going on within the program. "It has...potential," he decides. "A little more time on the coding from your husband and it'll be an excellent way to showcase your work."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Poten--" Janet swings the monitor around and stares at it a beat. Her expression switches from pleased amusement to fury like a light switch snapping, and one gets the sense the screen would be cracking if she squeezed the monitor and harder. "Oh for fu--" Janet glances at her company and grabs her anger in a stranglehold. It drowns in a fixed, Perfectly Polite smile that has graced lots of tabloid gossip websites. "It's still in, um, progress," she apologizes, and rather firmly yanks the power cable out of the back of the monitor. "We're working on it. The goal is, eventually, to take a LIDAR map of anyone and in a few seconds get their fitting notes. That's a few years away," she admits. "Hank's very busy refining the Pym Particles. In fact it's a wonder he even came with me to the show." Janet glances over her shoulder once, a little suspiciously. It's hard to get a fix on the socialite's fleeting feelings but she definitely seems a little put off by Hank's presence, for whatever reason that is.

Brian Braddock has posed:
The way Janet manages to stifle her anger is both impressive and somehow unnerving. Brian still acknowledges it, with a sense of understanding, via his own little smile in return.

"Nothing's too wrong with progress," he notes mildly as the monitor and cord are dismantled to be put away. Similarly nonchalant, how the fashionista drops the name of her husband, and now it's Brian's turn to look properly boggled.

"Hank Pym? Oh, blood hell, that's right. I remember hearing of your nuptials. How I neglected to remember - I apologize, Miss van Dyne. I...still agree, however. Your husband has always seemed the sort to find more comfort in the lab rather than at an event such as this." The unspoken question mark lurks via the gentleman's tone.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
The only crack in Janet's plastic smile is a twitch of her eyelid. "Yes, normally I have to drag him out of the lab kicking and screaming," she admits. "He does tend to lose himself in his work. Of course when he comes up for air once in a while, it's just ... one long couple's holiday," Janet says with an airy giggle. "I'm doing the rounds in Europe and he's come along for, ah, every step. Love him, I know he's probably dying of boredom talking with socialites and fashion designers."

That train of thought is flickered away and she rests her fingers on Brian's forearm. "Do you think your sister would want to do some modelling for me?" she ventures, hopefully. "It could be some great synergy. I've got plenty of outfits that she would absolutely kill, and if she's between contracts I can put her on the payroll for a few months. And I never miss a chance to get my work photographed somewhere exotic. Dubai, if she hasn't been?"

Brian Braddock has posed:
Sharp as he is and used to doing the rounds with the social sharks, Brian catches the errant flicker up near her brows. As such, he takes everything said afterwards with a grain of salt and a hint of sympathy well-hidden internally. Maybe it is actually love...?

He blames the champagne for this musing.

Thank god Janet lets her fingers land as they do, permanently yanking him free of the miring of wonderment.

"I can't hazard to read her mind, but I'll certainly put forth the offer in your name when I hand off your business card?" the man counters. "She's quick to snatch an opportunity when it's before her. You'd hear from her within the week, I'd imagine. She knows quite a few people as well, I can see her spreading your name quickly were she impressed."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet beams a smile that surely scales in the megawatt range as it spreads into a grin. "You really don't mind? That would be so good of you," she praises Brian. Her free hand rests higher on his arm. "You've got my card, that's my direct line. We're in the book of course, though, so if you need to go through the direct--"

"Janet?" The socialite turns to look at Hank Pym, who has turned back up in the booth. In his hand are two champagnes and a plate of canapes.

"Hank!" Janet says, flashing a smile at her husband with a total lack of concern for her close posture with Brian. "There you are. Come here, this is Brian Braddock," Janet says, and beckons Hank over. Once he grudgingly approaches she slips her hands around his left arm and tucks in next to him. "Brian, this is my husband, the illustrious Dr. Hank Pym," she says, making introductions.

Brian Braddock has posed:
How Brian manages to //not// look guilty is a wonder he'll muse over later. The weight of Janet's hand goes from a simple nicety to nearly evoking a sudden twitch of avoidance. She removes it and he carefully swallows before giving Hank one of his own signature social-smiles.

"An honor to meet you, Dr. Pym. Miss van Dyne was telling me about your work and travels as of late. It's a talent to balance the two, I'd hazard? I'm working towards an eventual Doctorate in Theoretical Physics myself," he shares, perhaps hoping to meet on the shared plane of science nerdery. "Your work with the Pym Particle is going to shape what we know of molecular science for decades to come."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Hank's a lean but athletic looking man of a little above average height; he shakes Brian's hand cordially enough, but it's obvious he balks a bit at how casually Brian simply towers over him.

Still the celebrity recognition earns Brian some favors and he shakes the young man's hand firmly. "Good to meet you, Mr. Braddock," Hank bids the British fellow. "Theoretical physics, huh? Long way to go. I did my first doctorate at MIT and picked up one or two at Empire State and CalTech. Stopped keeping track after that," he admits with breezy confidence.

Janet swats Hank's arm. "Stop bragging," she scolds him, and flashes a reassuring smile at Brian. "Listen, thanks for coming by the booth," she tells him. "And please do tell your sister to give me a call? I'd love to work with her sometime." She disengages from Hank to offer her fingers for a polite handshake. "And if you ever need a suit or tuxedo, give me a call," she suggests.

Brian Braddock has posed:
Even if Brian's used to senior faculty in his field and their propensity to toot their own horn, there's always a passing moment of disdain for such braggartry. It's there and gone, quick as a rub of fur the wrong way, and the gentleman sips at his champagne even as Janet comes to the proverbial rescue with the arm swat.

Time for a handshake anyhow. Once more, Brian returns it with firm, polite pressure and an honest grin back at the petite fashionista. "You're quite welcome, Miss van Dyne. I truly suspect your work is set to catch the fashion world afire -- and I shall pass word on to Betsy as promised. I'm a man of my word. As to a suit...perhaps sooner than you may think. I've a public affair or two to attend in the next year which will require me at my most dapper." As if he isn't look incredibly such as the moment. "You'll be the first number on my list."

There's a fluting, musical call-out of his name suddenly. It's one step down from a literal 'yoo-hoo' by nature and it makes Brian turn around, brows knitted curiously. "...ah, the Lady Hanfield. If you'll both excuse me, niceties must be exchanged. A pleasure to meet the both of you, Dr. Pym, Miss van Dyne." Brian admittedly can't help holding those verdant eyes for a microsecond longer than is technically polite, but he disengages easily enough to go address his name-caller. Ah, socialities.