14492/When The Last Bead Has Fallen

When The Last Bead Has Fallen
Date of Scene:	25 March 2023
Location:	Purgatory Night Club - Hellfire Club
Synopsis:	The Invisible Woman arrives after the party, but not too late to earn some beads from the Black King himself.
Cast of Characters:	Sebastian Shaw, Susan Richards

---

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
The crowd has finally mostly dispersed from the Hellfire Club's Mardi Gras gala. It is largely just staff left in the room, ushering out the drunkards and those who would linger with the last desperate hopes of not leaving alone.

As the brushes come in to sweep discarded beads from the dance floor, a man stands alone at the bar, sipping at a glass of brandy. He is topless, wearing black linen pants, and a gladiator mask. With no facial hair to speak-of, long black hair untied and hanging to his shoulders. Few would be able to discern that this man is Sebastian Shaw, either from a distance or up close, given that he has shorn his feature mutton chops.

But there are some who might be able to pick him out based around other distinguishing characteristics. If they ever had the good fortune of getting a close inspection of his back.

Susan Richards has posed:
Susan Richards is often fashionably late to parties. The life of a business magnate, a superheroine, a mother, a wife, and also a shadowy titan of power in the unseen world of movers and shakers that is the true inner circle of the Hellfire Club does not allow for very many chances to show up /early/ to events.

But even she has to admit, she is just _late_ late for the Mardi Gras celebration. Which is to say it's over and done with and the murmured rumors online of who left with whom have spread online.

Really, she's just turning up to the club on a Friday evening because it's a Friday evening and she's found a precious gap in her schedule to unwind. Which is why she arrives in a little black dress, no formal White Queen attire, no blue jumpsuit like she thinks she'll be called off to fight some invading alien menace.

She's holding a martini in her right hand, sighing out as she glides across the floor, keeping to the swept paths and avoiding causing /more/ work for the staff, her heels clicking with a steady gait it's entirely possible the Black King might recognize by sound alone.

If nothing else, her voice chiming out may solve the mystery, "My my! I /clearly/ missed quite the charitable event." Her blue eyes sweep around at the beads being swept up, "I'm beginning to think my absence from this year's party might /not/ gravely impact the fundraising total for the charities."

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
He recognizes the cadence of Susan's steps. "It may not have affected the fundraising total, but it most assuredly impacted my enjoyment of the evening," replies Sebastian as he turns smoothly from the bar to spy the approaching White Queen. "Ms. Richards, I am however pleased that you decided to grace us with your presence. I would never say that we cannot benefit from have you here." He reaches up and finally removes the mask, setting it down on the counter. It is odd, perhaps, to see his face without any facial hair. It has been years, perhaps over a decade, since that has happened. But he manages to wear it well.

"Are you just coming for a drink or two, or will you be spending some time with us this evening?" He waves his free hand around. "As you can see, without a party to attend to, I am rudderless as a host." He grins at her. "Unless, of course, one of our VIPs needs attending to..." He takes a long sip of his brandy, watching her.

Susan Richards has posed:
There's a soft little purr of laughter from Susan as she sighs out, her head bobbing in a little nod, lips quirked in a pleasant little smile, bordering on a smirk. "Mr. Shaw. A pleasure as always. Well, perhaps not as always." She shrugs lightly and drops her voice to a dry murmur, "As I recall, my attendance last year did involve putting on a show. I'll admit, the... appreciative reception was quite the ego boost. Hopefully I can sustain myself on the memory and won't regret missing this year's."

She slinks her way to the bar and rises up to settle on a stool, lips pressing in a thoughtful line, head tilting. "Well, it's not as though I have any other plans. I thought I might do my best to serve as hostess to any lingering partygoers." She grins crookedly and shrugs lightly, "I think, perhaps, I can serve just as well keeping a rudderless host focused and intent upon not wasting his evening."

She shrugs and perks her eyebrows, "Or at least, I can act as a sounding board, hm? I'm sure as always the party has been but part of your evening. Though I'm assuming more... discrete matters haven't interrupted you in your hosting duties, so perhaps my attentions are unrequired. But as always, I am content to be a friend, even if we may also be... rivals of a sort. Friendly rivals."

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
There is a look of amusement on Sebastian's face. "I am always the host, never the guest, Ms. Richards. Although I do appreciate the offer." The view, as well, as Sebastian's move over the very visible woman beneath the black dress. A color choice he certainly appreciates.

"We shall have to have more parties this year, then, so you can make up for your absence here. I shall have to think of a suitable theme for April." He shifts to turn and lean sideways against the bar, facing her.

"As much as I enjoy having your company here, they _do_ need to finish cleaning up, so despite your rather exalted status here, we cannot linger." He considers for a moment, lips twisting in a smile. "Perhaps I can interest you in a short jaunt to a less defiled locale within the club?"

Susan Richards has posed:
Susan hums softly, in mock thoughtfulness, "Well, perhaps the White Queen can host an event sometime and ease that burden. Does the Club have decorations for... oh... Arbor Day?" Eyebrows perk as she grins downright impishly, "I wouldn't want my reach to exceed my grasp. I could start with a /small/ gala you see. No one would expect an Arbor Day gala to be truly inspiring. Simply an excuse to show up wearing leaves, or at least leaf patterned attire."

She sips her drink and murmurs dryly, "There /is/ a National Pillow Fight Day in April. But I thought that might be a touch too... rambunctious?"

Eyebrows perk as she tilts her drink back to drain it, hardly gulping, but making a steady work of finishing it before she slips from her seat, leaving the glass upon the bar and offering her hand. "Well now! I would hardly call this room defiled. Enthusiastically appreciated. Which is, of course, the mark of a good party. Or a fine night out."

She cocks her hip lightly and grins, "And perhaps I'll see if I can guess where we are headed. I don't think I've been absent so long as to have /entirely/ forgotten the layout."

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
"Leaves." Sebastian things on this for a moment. "Strategically placed, no more than three to a person?" His face twists into a grin. "I could get behind that," he says, nodding. "But I think you sell yourself short if you think you need to start small."

"I feel like Pillow Fight Day is not quite..." He tilts his head, considering. "A bit too wholesome altogether, if you follow me." He shrugs, and then as she finishes her drink he takes her hand, giving it a brief squeeze. "Well, perhaps disheveled is more accurate." He starts to head from the bar and then she offers her statement, and he simply shakes his head. "Well, if that is your approach, perhaps _you_ should determine where we go." He waves his hand ahead of him. "Lead on, Ms. Richards..."

Susan Richards has posed:
Susan laughs softly and shrugs lightly, almost sighing out, "Well, I hadn't thought of anything quite so... detailed. I see your experience in planning these events leaves much for me to aspire to equal. ...Should we allow /vines/? I mean, they're not leaves, so they're not /technically/ tree-related. More general nature."

She leads the way further into the club, towards the VIP suites more or less. Maybe not /entirely/ unerringly, though she does her best to disguise any momentary loss of direction with a more leisurely pace as she hums out softly. "And oh yes, I suppose a pillow fight night is... also really far more suitable as a theme night in one of the clubs for the /dancers/ to focus on. Perhaps I'll consider it for that. It's... so much more fun to consider than the next marketing drive for FantastiCorp."

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
"Vines..." Sebastian thinks for a moment, his gaze drifting over towards Susan as he considers it. His eyes trace paths that the vines might adopt, and he nods slowly in agreement. "See, I told you. You have all the capabilities necessary for such a thing."

He moves along with her, at pace but allowing her to direct them. Whereever she goes seems to be content for him to follow. "Naturally. We are a far more entertaining enterprise than the Fantastic Four could ever aspire to be. You elevate them with your grace and presence, much as you elevate us." He smirks. "But in their case, they are starting far lower, and you have far more work to do to get it somewhere respectable."

Susan Richards has posed:
Susan perks one eyebrow and murmurs dryly, "Well, I suppose I haven't lost my touch in club attire. Even if I did wander from being a regular at the club for so long... having a family to wrangle and all... but it's nice to be able to enjoy this freedom once more. And to know I'm still capable of being... if not surprising, delightful, hm?"

She glances sidelong and murmurs dryly, "Why, Mr. Shaw. There were an /awful/ lot of beads on the floor for things to be... respectable, no? Exciting. Enticing. Entertaining. And discrete... but respectable is just a veneer. We're far past that between us, no? We're realists. Honest between one another after what we've been through in my... introduction to the finer points of the club." She clicks her tongue and murmurs, "But perhaps that's not a discussion for the hallway. The lounge perhaps? Though I recall your personal liquor cabinet having a delightful assortment of options."

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
"I do rather appreciate your touch in club attire," murmurs Sebastian, his tone layering on a certain degree of innuendo. "You are all of that and more, Ms. Richards, as I am sure you well know." He laughs softly. "I suspect you well know your worth."

He laughs again as they continue along, considering. "Well, I suppose I am inclined to defer to your judgement. But I will note for all the beads on the floor, it would seem you have yet to earn any for yourself." His eyebrow arches. "And it would be a shame for you to have to return home without any, would it not?"

Susan Richards has posed:
Sue's laughter is pure, soft, a mix of delighted and stunned as she spins about, steps a touch faster, backing away ahead of Shaw, eyebrows perked, her arms crossed under the chest of her dress as she hums out, "Oh my! And do you have any spare beads, Mr. Shaw? That I might earn before the hour is too terribly late?"

Her eyes narrow, playfully darting up and down, then sweeping slower, clearly inspecting for such beads. "Again, it is quite the boost to my self-confidence to earn my annual tribute of plastic and string. So if you have a hidden stash, I'm sure I could be convinced to... do my part for charity? And for the club's reputation of course."

She clicks her tongue softly and murmurs dryly, "Even if it may be a less widespread boost to reputation than if I"d managed to arrive earlier. I'm sure I can make the effort worth it."

Her eyebrows perk high and she sighs out, "Mind you, I might wait to return home until tomorrow. I always feel a /little/ guilty coming home late when there are beds here."

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
There is a bit of a grin on Sebastian's face. "Oh, I always have a supply on hand, Ms. Richards. Just in case there is someone who is worthy of receiving _my_ beads, although up until this point in the night, I am not quite so sure that any have merited it." He makes a gesture and a panel of the wall slides away, revealing a dimly lit corridor behind it. "But if you think yourself worthy..."

He nods ahead towards the corridor. "The beads lie that way, as does the means to earn them." He flashes a bit of a grin. "And, I suppose, afterwards we could find you some guest accomodations. We are always prepared for our VIPs to decide they are too taxed to return home. I would not want anyone at the Baxter Building to worry upon the state or time of your return."

That predatory grin manifests itself as he watches Susan. "And who wants to put a timer on the fun at the Hellfire Club?"

Susan Richards has posed:
Susan sighs and rolls her eyes as her gait shifts, from that teasing backing away, to a determined, if somewhat slinking sway towards that opened darkness, her voice dropping to a low, breathy murmur. "Oh, I'm quite sure I'm worthy of /all/ sorts of praise and adoration. And the night is... young enough, at least."

She laughs softly, more of a purr as she breezes past Sebastian and into the corridor, fingers lightly trailing along the edge of that otherwise hidden entry as she murmurs dryly. "Of course. That's why there's the lack of timepieces and windows, isn't it? Like a casino. Music, entertainment, and distracting employees so we lose track of time. Minutes become hours become... getting home after noon? Well, I've /earned/ a day off. And I intend to indulge."

And into the darkness Ms. Richards goes. She finds it almost comfortable really.

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
"I suspect that you would be, Ms. Richards, but I believe I am the ultimate judge of that," replies Sebastian as he follows her along towards the darkness. "I cannot grand them too easily, lest they lose their value."

He simply nods as she points out the psychological tricks used to keep those present as long as possible. Time truly seems to turn endless within those halls. "Oh yes, Ms. Richards," he says softly, his fingers trailing against the doorway as he follows, the light from the club slipping away as the door slides shut.

"Indulge you shall."