14672/Into The Lions Den

Into The Lions Den
Date of Scene:	12 April 2023
Location:	Office - Fisk Towers
Synopsis:	After having seen James Wesley commit a murder, and helped him cover it up, Maria is prepared for a meeting with Wilson Fisk.
Cast of Characters:	Maria King, Wilson Fisk

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Maria King has posed:
Maria King looks in the mirror. She doesn't often have mirrors available to her, not big full length ones. Other than a little metal camping mirror about as big as her hand, the best she normally has to work with are mirrors in restrooms of fast food places or gas stations.

The difference from what she glimpsed when she arrived, versus now is pretty stark. She hadn't realized she had that much dirt on her face. Her hair is brushed out beautifully, rather than looking windblown and mussed up the way it does with her hood drawn up to keep attention from her.

And it doesn't hurt that the clothes didn't come from a thrift store.

There's a soft rap at the door and then it opens without waiting for her to respond. James Wesley steps in and Maria turns towards him. Her hands move to clasp a little nervously in front of herself, her body language self-conscious. At least she's not standing on plastic. Surely they wouldn't have her clean up if they were just planning to get rid of her now. Not that they can't change their mind.

Wilson Fisk has posed:
James Wesley gives Maria an up-and-down look. He scrutinizes her from the lustreous crown of her chestnut hair, down over every inch of clothing, to the soles of her shoes, all provided by the generosity of him, or his patron. The look is steely and hard, but lacking overt cruelty.

His cold assessment done, he allows a smile to rise on his lips. It is practiced and pleasant, but only surficial. It never meets his distant, killer's gaze. When he speaks, it is with careful precision and obviously affected warmth. "Well, certainly an improvement, Miss King. We will have your other clothing washed, or burned, as appropriate." He takes a step back from the doorway he darkens, holding the door open and giving ample room for the petite teenaged girl to step through.

"Come along now," he instructs. "And proper posture. Bearing counts, my dear girl."

Maria King has posed:
Maria King hopes her hoodie isn't burned though doesn't voice it. For someone that has so few things, each item she possesses is pretty important to her. And the hoodie has more than sentimental value. Just the right amount of baggy to help conceal her curves, hopefully make people think she's a boy even. Not to mention the deep hood, good for hiding her face for the same reason. And that deep green doesn't show the dirt as much.

She starts to follow him and then practically pauses a step at his comment about proper posture. Her eyes dart about, wondering what her posture is. She tries to steal a glimpse over at the mirror but she can't see herself in it. So she tries to stand up a little straighter. Maybe put her shoulders back. She feels ridiculous. She hopes she doesn't look ridiculous as she moves to hurry to catch up to James Wesley. Immediately forgetting about her posture again.

Wilson Fisk has posed:
James Wesley watches the girl with that same steadfast scrutiny, before allowing the suite door to close behind them. It seals with a gentle click, that seems to reverberate with permanency. A door literally closes for the girl.

He moves at her side, and moves forward to stab the elevator call button before looking back to her. He heaves a slight sigh and chides her, "Goodness, girl. *Proper* posture. Mister Fisk has earned his place in high society. He didn't rise up from obscurity for the treat of some gutter-rat girl with slumping shoulders, slinking from shadow to shadow." He lifts his chin slightly, and a hand elevates, palm-up, as though he could lift her own from afar. "*Poise*. This is your chance to meet someone truly of the upper crust. You have no idea how lucky you are... he can make dreams come true, or nightmares. Your quick-thinking has earned you an audience, and it would behoove you not to squander this opportunity." His smile fades then, all at one, leaving only the hard-eyed look of a well-polished sociopath. "And if you make a poor impression, it will reflect poorly on me," he reminds her, lowly.

Maria King has posed:
Maria King straightens again as she receives the reproach on her posture. She looks at how James Wesley is standing and tries to emulate it. Ok, maybe not quite so masculine. There, that's a little better. Maybe it helps a little with her body language, but only a little. The teen's nervousness is there to be read easily enough.

She wants to ask questions about this Mister Fisk. Though something tells her the less she knows possibly the better. Though, she also gets the clear feeling that it had better go well. That she's being given the man's name probably bode well for her if it doesn't go well. Maybe knowing more would be better, but at the same time, she doesn't think asking would necessarily go over well.

"Thank you, sir," she tells James Wesley quietly. "I will try not to let you down," she says. And looks up at him, being careful to keep her posture corrected. "Uncle James," she says, making the little callback to what she'd said in the warehouse to cover when the cop came in. A little reminder of her quick thinking, even one that might provide the smallest modicum of endearment, couldn't hurt.

Wilson Fisk has posed:
James Wesley listens to Maria and watches her with that steady, slightly narrowed, assessing look. Even when she offers that bit of warmness, recalling her earlier merits, gains no answering smile. He scrutinizes her for a moment longer before the elevator chime sounds gently, and he gives a singular nod. He turns crisply to step inside, and there he presses his palm to a small, black rectangle above the bank of floor numbers. There is a small beep and he checks his watch, before keying in a six-digit code matching something displayed on its face. Then, he's able to press the top button, which illuminates, and the doors close.

As the elevator begins to smoothly ascend further up Fisk Tower, he looks back over at Maria one last time. "Don't *just* be nervous," he recommends to her, with a slightly softened tone. Perhaps her little manipulation had worked after all. "He *can* make dreams come true, after all."

Then there is a chime, and the elevator doors slide open to reveal the palatial office at the summit of Fisk Tower, and a hulking figure at the desk at the far end of the room.