14605/Looking for a Good Time

Looking for a Good Time
Date of Scene:	04 April 2023
Location:	VIP Lounge - Hellfire Club
Synopsis:	Brian Braddock chances an encounter with Janet van Dyne at the Hellfire Club. A date is arranged.
Cast of Characters:	Janet van Dyne, Brian Braddock

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Janet van Dyne has posed:
The Hellfire Club is the best-kept secret of New England high society. Very few people are even aware that it exists, fewer still can even get access to it. The cohort with a VIP pass is reserved only for the most elite and truly influential. Forget politicians or even Presidents-- the only way to afford a membership is to have the sort of generational wealth and influence that can buy votes at wholesale.

This makes the VIP lounge a fantastic place to conduct business meetings. It has all the comforts the truly privileged expect and plenty of security safeguards to ensure privacy and safety. It's why Janet chose to meet with several investment partners at the club. A small hubbub floats into the lounge as a conference room door is opened. Janet walks out past the porter with a carefully polite smile on her face, resplendent in a French-violet business suit. It's hard to tell if she's holding back anger or exultation. Much as wealth is still an instiution for old men in New England, she's one of just a handful of women in the room-- but the Wasp walks like the New England aristocrat she is. The others file out while Janet takes a call in a shielded phone booth. It proves to be a little ruse to let the others file out; Janet makes a straight line for the bar once the last of them leave, clearly not relishing a social drink with any of that company.

Brian Braddock has posed:
The Braddock family, long-lived in the echelon of the Club, makes appearances as suits them. It's been some time since the son of Lord Braddock attended upon his hereditary access, but tonight?

Brian felt a standard three-piece suit was a bit...contrived.

Instead, he enters the Hellfire Club after asserting himself -- yes, he's Lord Brian Braddock, hadn't his arrival to New York been noted? -- in a double-breasted suit. Mind, it's a blue glen plaid wool suit, richly and deeply dyed, with accents in a tie of geometric-patterned gold and pocket-square with related gilded accents. Bold? Absolutely. Comfortable? Completely, down to the English spread collar shirt beneath, white as lamb's wool.

His smile is for the sharks present, anyone who spots him as newly-arrived and thus, a new target. There's a frostiness about the edges of his curve of lips warning said predators off. Knowing he's going to face faces of particularly influentual power at one point, it seems wisest to start with...a drink.

"Miss van Dyne," Janet is thus greeted by the British Lord. Is that faint surprise in his voice? He covers it well with a Colgate smile at her. "I didn't expect to see you here this evening."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet looks over her shoulder at someone voicing her name, a politely insincere smile forming on her lips. When she sees Brian her eyes widen, and it takes her a few moments to process not just his unexpected presence, but also in the context of New York's best-kept secret. Much like Brian she's wearing a double-breasted suit, though her high-waisted slacks cling to her hips, and the deep V-cut of the jacket neckline frames out a sternum bare from throat to navel. Even her shoes and clutch are in the same color, and the accent pieces match gold jewelry hanging from her ears and wrists.

"O-oh! Sir Braddock, how good to see you," she says, and her smile becomes something sunnier. She puts a relaxed hand out between them, palm down. "I was not expecting you here," she admits. Her nose wrinkles as her brain catches up. "Though I'm sure I've seen Betsy on the rolls, so-- yeah, of course, you-- right?" The socialite waves off her confusion and exhales, re-settling her pleasant expression. One hand lingers on the back of the bar chair she was considering. "Are you here socially or for business?" she inquires politely.

Brian Braddock has posed:
Now Brian decides all of the effort and fuss was worth those few moments of confusion in the socialite before him. It makes his smile deepen not unkindly.

"Socially," he seems to decide in the moment even as he lifts his hand up beneath Janet's own. It's to rotate and perch her fingers over the half-curl of his hand while he leans in for the aristocratic kiss-kiss of each cheek greeting he's always felt appropriate in such settings. "I'm known to the European Club, but not here. I thought it best to take the chance to shake hands and learn names, faces, the like, while I was in New York still. Shall we?" A gesture invites her to pick a chair that he might pull it out and scoot her in, the better to join her by the next chair over. "Any recommendations for drinks?"

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet beams approvingly at Brian's exquisite manners, and leans forward slightly to reciprocate the greeting. And she borrows his right tricep for a little balance, just because she can get away with it. They break and she settles her weight back on her $3,000 pumps. The socialite even manages to keep from mentally deconstructing his suit for too long, though she clearly approves of the cut and quality.

And since he offers, she hooks a heel over the rung of her stool and with a lithe sense of balance drops herself comfortably atop the premium leather so she can be scooted in.

"They've got literally everything," Janet prompts Brian, and gestures at the bar. The bottom-shelf booze would be premium restaurant liquors anywhere else. "My go-to is a good rum cocktail. Well, for day drinking. Tequila when I'm off the clock." She flickers a blink-and-you-miss-it wink at Brian and lifts a finger to get the barman's attention. "Rum Swizzle, dump the grenadine," she bids him, and turns to give Brian a speculative look.

Brian Braddock has posed:
Thus prompted, the seated Brit considers the veritable menagerie of booze bottles. What //doesn't// the Hellclub Fire keep on their shelves? A glance to Janet means he catches the flicker of an expression aimed at him and his smile parts into bright view again.

"I see," he comments as the bartender arrives. Janet puts in her order. "Gin Evolver." His order thus put it, Brian looks to her again. "And yourself? Socializing or business? I imagine you manage a portion of your vast fashion empire's...threads even in here? That there's more than one person present who wears your commissioned designs?"

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Por que no los dos?" Janet says in lilting, slightly inflected Spanish. She settles on her chair and crosses her legs towards Brian, putting just a little weight on the backrest and resting her hands in her lap. It's a photographer-ready pose she adopts almost unthinkingly, and gives Brian the courtesy of her attention to boot. "But yes, it's mostly for some negotiations," she concedes. "There's a luxury brand group that is just shy of going public. I want to make them an offer before they do. You would be amazed what sort of a valuation bump we get if Wall Street opens and JvD is the new owner."

She lifts her chin at Brian, giving him a flickering up-and-down assessment. "So you're staying in New York for a while, then?" she surmises. "I remember you talking about one of the schools here, your.. physics degree?" she hazards. "New York is a lot of fun as long as you're not stuck in some dank science lab." She picks up a slender pretzel stick from a cup of them and rather casually breaks it off between her front teeth, giving Brian a completely deadpan look that only her eyes betray as amusement.

Brian Braddock has posed:
Brian himself simply sits back comfortably in his own bar chair, one forearm rested on the sleek bartop as his own body's turned to better face Janet and thus grant attention in turn. His carriage is upright, confident, as if he belonged in this place despite his first visitation.

A nod for her concession. "I can only imagine," he agrees of such a bump. It's her accusation of a science lab which has him laughing quietly. "I understand how you wouldn't find a lab alluring. Theoretical physics is the focus for my PhD, yes. I've double-mastered in Physics and Engineering since last we spoke in Europe. When humanity gets beyond the inanity of Bunsen burners and simple chemical reactions, science becomes...poetry," he postulates, entirely serious by expression.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet clicks her tongue and looks away, with an expression of wry resignation. "Oh, my god, /neeerds/," she mumbles in a theatrical sotto voce to some hypothetical bystander. She looks sidelong at Brian and flashes a sly grin to show she's just teasing him. "I'm just a simple New England girl," Janet says with a wholly insincere affectation. "I have a hard time with anything past algebra. I pay people for that. About the only numbers I have a head for are in spreadsheets."

The drinks arrive; Janet lifts hers and offers a touch of the rim to Brian's, then carefully manages the cocktail straws with one hand and takes a pouty-lipped sip. "Mmm. All right, so once you finish school-- then what?" she asks, more seriously, and lifts a brow at Brian. There's a flash of the cool-headed businesswoman that emerges from the vapid socialite posture, marking her curiousity as more than just social interest. "I was doing my MFA while getting JvD off the ground; are you gonna stay in academia or do something once you graduate?"

Brian Braddock has posed:
What a wry smile on Lord Braddock's face now. "Forgive me if I highly doubt your lack of mathematical ability," he replies to Janet's display of faux-vapidity before their drinks arrive.

His drink appears to be a standard gin-and-tonic save for the ice cubes themselves: they're flecked through with herbs which will no doubt slowly melt into the drink itself and change the flavor profile over time. A cleverly named drink indeed. He clinks it lightly from Janet's drink before sipping and humming approval of it.

Brian gives the question what appears to be proper thought. "I'm still putting thought into joining the work of CERN, as I'd mentioned before. Nothing else of interest has come up of late...actually, I lie. Poetry, as I mentioned before."

What.

Trying very hard not to smile like a cat-in-the-cream, Brian then tilts his drink as he continues, "You see, I have...

A friend who's in liquor production,
With a still of astounding construction.
You see, the alcohol boils,
Through old magnet coils,
And he claims that it's proof by induction."

Gin. Sip.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
And he was doing so well, there. Janet's amused expression fades at the limerick. It's not just a limerick, it's a *nerd* limerick. A beat later she lets a groan slip and looks away, rolling her eyes. Still-- there's a flicker of a tolerant smile. The Pratfall Effect seems to net Brian at least a little gain there with the socialite. "I don't know what I hate more, bad poetry or the fact that I got that joke," she deadpans at Brian.

Janet's powering through her drink pretty fast. Not 'I'm trying to get drunk fast'-- more like slaking her thirst. It's gone in a few sips and she rattles the ice to get the barman's attention, setting it down in his reach. "I can't get read on you, Braddock," she tells Brian, finally. "You're built like a brick house and if you're shopping at Savile Row, you have an eye for how you look. Joseph's, right?" She plucks at the seam near his wrist, clearly recognizing the stitchwork of one of London's most premiere tailors. "And I know you and your sis have a pretty refined sense for social surfing."

She eyes Brian again and her lips twitch in barely-contained amusement. "Which means you made a deliberate *choice* to be a nerd. Normally I'd just be amused, but I have to admit, I'm almost impressed."

Brian Braddock has posed:
Yet another sip of his drink, this time openly triumphant at the response Brian's managed to induce in his companion. His smirk wraps around the rim of the glass before he sets it upon its lightly-spotted napkin, glancing to Janet again as she admits to understanding his limerick.

"There's no harm in admitting to intelligence," he notes casually. Hearing a rise of laughter from a corner, he looks out of idle curiosity. No known faces. Back to Janet and her rattling of empty ice at the bartender.

Being unable to get a read on him makes him lift brows. He watches her test-touch his jacket's cuff before looking to her face again, his smile slowly appearing once more.

It's thoughtful, the way he proposes as he reaches for his drink again, "You never apologize for being yourself. Why should I?"

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet's eyes narrow in thought. She starts to speak, opens her lips-- then thinks better of it and closes them while trying to whip up a good comeback. The socialite's saved by the bartender brining her new drink, and she curls her tongue around the cocktail straw to take a long sip. Finally she gives up the point and smiles at Brian.

"...All right, you have me there," she concedes finally. "And just so you know-- flattery and chivalry go a long way with me." She gives Brian an inscrutable look that suggests there's probably a third thing she's not identifying-- but he's doing Something Right, and some subtle shift in her posture suggests her attitude towards him is growing much more positive.

"Listen, why not check out some other hot spots when you've got an evening free?" she invites him a beat later. "Don't get me wrong, I've got some good friends and some dear enemies here, but if you're looking for people our age, this isn't exactly the hottest place in town." She gestures vaguely; it's true enough. There's a sense of sober propriety around the lounge, without the reckless energy of youth trying to enjoy themselves. "There's a bar in Chelsea you'd like. The Red Circle," she clarifies, and suddenly her eyes dance with merry amusement. "And you're already on your way to being in the owner's good graces," she tells him with a suggestive humor.

Brian Braddock has posed:
The Lord's next lift-tilt of drink is salute to Janet's concession as well as informing. As before, Brian's sip of his drink is victorious in an understated way. He mulls lips as he sets the glass aside again.

The invitation brings him to once more look almost theatrically pensive, as if he'd already come to some conclusion on the matter. Janet gestures, Brian scans the crowd again. "I'll admit, it tends towards stodgy," he murmurs in agreement. No disco ball's glitteratzi and bass beat going on here.

When he meets the Wasps's regard again, his own blues hold their own twinkle. "Good graces, you say? Am I now." This is far less of a question and more of an acceptance. "I have a vague memory of this owner mentioning this bar before. I was tempted to visit it until familial responsibility got the better of me. What can you tell me about this place as its owner? Go on, give it a go," he encourages Janet, looking far too comfortable in his bar chair.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Mmm-mm," Janet headshakes, and swallows her sip of rum. The cup is set aside, her fingers leaving little clear trails in the condensation beading on the outside of the glass. "I'm not gonna spoil it. Just that it's hot, it's popular, and the guest list is *very* exclusive." She grins at Brian, then, flashing that appealing grin of hers. "I've got strict rules about papparazzi and social media. Last time someone tried to sneak a camera into there for some candids, it didn't end well for him. Plus the music's better and the dancers are people you actually *want* to see out there dancing."

She drains the rest of her drink and slides it back to the other side of the counter. When the bartender glances her way, she shakes her head and lays a finger atop the glass to indicate she's had enough. "But the real question is if it's your sort of jam or not. I can never tell what you Brits find exciting," she admits. "There probably won't be a lot of physicists there."

Brian Braddock has posed:
Brian marks the drag of her fingertips on the abandoned glass as well as the way she demurs of another drink now. It makes him glance to his own drink and wonder at another for himself. The gin recipe is fairly satisfying and flavor-rich as it is. He looks back to Janet, smile appearing again.

"I appreciate the lack of spoilers then. Hard to do with social media these days...and good. Good of you to have such rules about the papparazzi." He then seems to weigh her musings. Whatever conclusion he comes to make him laugh quietly and tuck his chin for a second, needing to wash down the unspoken words with a mouthful of liquor. "No physicists, possibly, but physics? Absolutely. Never underestimate physics. I like a nice night on the town now and then, as spice to interrupt my studies. When were you next intending to check in on it?"

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet lifts a brow at Brian with a suggestive sort of amusement, not answering right away. Her smile just spreads into a knowing grin, that one foot bobbing lazy circles in the air while she leaves Brian hanging on a response.

"Not sure," she says, finally, and sits back in the chair to let it pivot back and forth on noiseless, smooth bearings. "I'm not a big fan of a fixed schedule. If I go to the Club to actually check up on it, then something's likely gone wrong and I'm there to work." She pulls a face at that notion.

"But I might end up there socially this week sometime," she acknowledges, not quite nailing the time down. "Why, were you hoping to bump into me again?" she inquires with a pointed look for the dapper physicist. "Coincidence can be a good friend, but I'm not sure you should rely on it all the time," she suggests.

Brian Braddock has posed:
Refusing to be flustered by the weight of Janet's knowing attention upon him, the Brit merely returns the look over another sip of his drink. It's when she wrinkles her nose at the idea of mandatory check-ins that he laughs quietly.

"I understand the premise all too well," Brian agrees of required visits. He quickly reviews this upcoming week's personal itinerary as a not-quite-time ends up being plausible. "I don't think I'd underestimate coincidence, however, bceause many things which appear to be coincidence...are not," he notes with a point of finger off his sweating glass. "But we're not here to talk theoretical physics. I have some free nights on my docket. Pick a night, Miss van Dyne, and who knows? Serendipity may strike. You seem the betting sort..."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"How about you pick me up Friday night?" Janet suggests to Brian, head tilting the other direction. His resistance to her charms is something she seems to take on as a challenge to overcome, and doesn't let him escape the pressure of those knowing green eyes. "Figure... my penthouse, around eight," she suggests, and digs her phone out of her clutch to swap numbers with Brian. "I'll let security know you're coming," she assures him, belatedly.

Once that banal task is handled she slips her phone into her purse and pivots away from Brian in a three-quarter circle, which allows her to stand smoothly and give Brian just a bit of a view of that shapely outline as she settles her jacket back into place. "Just to be clear," she prompts him with that same amused expression, "I tend to party hard. So if you've got your heart set on the Red Circle, just keep in mind that the party doesn't even start properly until some bodies hit the floor at midnight." A shoulder rises and falls negligently, and she gives him almost a coy look. "So plan accordingly."

Brian Braddock has posed:
"Wise. I'd hate to be arrested thinking I was welcomed to the penthouse," Brian banters mildly. Out comes Janet's phone, out comes his phone, and the numbers are exchanged with little further ado. The bartender has zero judgement in matters. If anyone else around them in the social cabal notices, no one makes commentary or interrupt.

Away the device goes and the Brit returns to his drink. It's tipped to his lips and finished, just in time to appreciate the physique on deliberate display. He knows the move, having seen other socialites do it, and keeps his smile to displaying a minimal amount of knowing.

"A double cupping of shotgun tea, duly noted," he replies as sharing of a 'plan'. "I'll be there at eight o'clock on the dot and bring an extra kerchief, just in case." But is he actually going to do this, is the question. "And what do you suggest as proper attire? Suit up or 'hair down'?" he asks almost playfully of Janet.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet purses her lips and gives Brian a thoroughly appraising head-to-toe. "Mm. Well, I'd say you can go wrong with 'business casual'," she suggests. "It's a conservative choice, but not a bad way to go. With that accent you could probably pull of a tuxedo and people would just call you 'James Bond'." Playful amusement lurks at the edges of her voice.

"Aside from that, well..." she adopts a (somewhat theatrical) expression of deep thought. "Anything goes, really. I guess you can consider it a change to impress me with your fashion sense?" From the pointed hike of her eyebrow, it's less a question, and more issued as a playful challenge for the Brit. After all, Britain may have invented the rules of wardrobing, but New England went on to perfect them.

Brian Braddock has posed:
The way Brian smiles at the jibe about being referred to as 007 surely insinuates he's encountered this scenario before. While it's tempting to see about the last (and strongest) remaining mouthful of liquor in his glass, he waits, giving Janet and her goading brow a level look back.

"I suppose I'll dress as I feel puts my best foot forwards then. After all, we agreed that to apologize for being ourselves is pointless," he demurs with a brighter grin. "Friday, eight o'clock then."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet beams approvingly at Brian's smart response. "Wonderful. Do be warned, Mister Braddock--" Janet reaches into Brian's personal space, past him, and picks up his unguarded drink. She throws it back with a gulp, never breaking eye contact with him. She follows the same path to set the glass back on the counter, and when she balances again, she's a lot closer to Brian than she was before.

"-- if you think you can keep up with me, you're in for a /wild/ night." Her breath is both warm and cool, the taste of juniper berries leaving a little frisson wafting against his cheekbone.

Janet leans back a beat later and drums her fingertips once against Brian's shoulder. She borrows him for balance and the touch becomes a caress across his brawny back as Janet makes an unhurried path for the exit door.

Brian Braddock has posed:
So much for the last of his drink. There it goes, into Janet, and it's probably straight liquor all the way through. Even at this close distance, the Brit doesn't move, intending to call her bluff at least in terms of personal space.

Her breath still wisps soft against his skin. This close, she'll catch those notes in his cologne scented before: black tea, leather, ambergris, and juniper crisper even than the gin itself. His smile narrows in what must be the proverbial parry of social sword after her fingertips depart his shoulder, leaving the ghost of touch in their wake.

"Nothing like a walk on the wild side now and then," he muses, only just loud enough for Janet to catch as she and her shapely outline depart. "...ooh." A click of his tongue and shake of his head as if what he'd just seen should be //illegal//. Perhaps it's time for another drink.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet's departure is perfectly normal. She doesn't make a particular effort to sashay or swing her hips. Just a leggy and endlessly confident strut that emphasizes all of her best features while somehow looking completely effortless at the same time. The short cut of her jacket certainly does nothing to conceal the swing of her hips.

At the door she looks over her shoulder mid-stride, giving no one time to pretend they aren't looking after her. A pearl-white grin spreads across her fine features and Janet leaves with an expression of purely feline amusement on her face.