15533/Spiral seeking Susan

Spiral seeking Susan
Date of Scene:	02 August 2023
Location:	The Rathskeller - Hellfire Club
Synopsis:	Spiral goes to confront Susan over her recent interactions with Franklin. After snitching, Spiral drops hints of dangerous doings afoot, tantalizing transgression to see what Susan's responses will be. The conversation takes a turn towards negotations and cosmic details that aren't for the Public's consumption.
Cast of Characters:	Susan Richards, Spiral

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Susan Richards has posed:
Susan Richards does sleep. She assures friends, family, coworkers and media relations people. She's coy about /when/ she sleeps of course, because between heroic duties, running the Fantastic Four's public relations, their attached corporation, and other duties she has taken on for the Hellfire Club, sleep should seem impossible.

Which just means she so very often makes a flippant remark about how the impossible is what she does.

But she's not above a little help in the form of a strong coffee now and then. Because while she can't sleep and work at the same time, she can certainly ingest caffeine and work at the same time, which is what she finds herself doing on yet another Wednesday morning on location at the Hellfire Club, her ever-present tablet laid on a table in front of her, legs crossed, not in any way to make the white dress she's changed into ride /terribly/ far up her thighs.

Though of course, the Club has a sliding scale of 'terribly far' that means their modest can elicit gasps at the local Starbucks.

Fortunately, Club employees are well compensated to maintain their composure, and really, deal with things far beyond a famous woman showing a fair bit of leg as she contemplates upcoming events, murmuring under her breath softly.

"Labor day party... it's a little on the nose, but I don't see why we /couldn't/ do one..."

Oh yes. Mrs. Richards is involved in _very serious business_ today clearly.

Spiral has posed:
Spiral is on a mission to check something off her to-dance list. No one has whispered her name, so it's meant taking a detour to arrive on location. While it should have made appearances a rather simple matter, in this case, having too much choice via shapeshifting and a pan-dimensional closet was almost debilitating. She eventually settled on a fashionable earth-varient of a high waisted cocktail dress. A rich purple, it is striking against her silvery mane of hair. The halter neck provides a blade of bare flesh to be visible further down, and is rather tight. Generous access along her sides provides for more limbs than normal (with only 2 showing visibly at the moment), their sometimes complex arrangement shifting according to her gait and balance upon those sandalled feet. Instead of her fur-lined shins, a collection of faint jeweled strands flow downward from clever clasps about her limb. Her hair has a lot of body, acting more like a mane as it's been preened and primped. Echoing her other jewelry, which may seem impractical for someone that may tend to spin and rotate, more accessories of the twinkling variety drape from clasps along her ear.

Spiral's arrival comes via her own two feet. Unsure of what manner of pitfalls or safeguards there may be, nevermind rudeness, magical movement was useful up to a point and then dispensed with. Much akin to taking a plane to the airport, but not driving it right up to someone's front door. Within the club proper, she lowers her chin and sets eyes on the most important person in the room. There can be no mistaking Susan Richards. The kind of individual that makes an impression by word of mouth, deed and Mojoworld serialized broadcasts. Spiral's lips quirk and she crosses the distance to where Mrs. Richards seems to be overseeing multiple threads at once in her web.

Spiral's greeting is offered with a purr of pleasantries, trying to be soft but carrying a harsh edge like she's still trying to obscure an accent that's dripping with an odd lilt. "Mrs. Richards, do you have space on your plate for one more hors d'oeuvre?" A pause as she does a quick space-time calculation. "...this morning?"

Susan Richards has posed:
The Hellfire Club is perhaps, a place where impressive fashion and stunning looks are /too/ commonplace. Which means that when someone truly impresses, it's even more memorable. And Spiral's arrival might be even more surprising than if she'd simply arrived in front of Susan via teleportation, a proper entrance stride has its own unique and classic charm.

And while Susan Richards has faced down many things, always with a practiced, calm detachment, Spiral's appearance earns a lift of eyebrows, an ever so slight tilt of her head, and a subconscious lift of her free hand from tapping at her tablet to run fingers through blonde hair for a moment as bright blue eyes dart and sweep and generally commit every detail of the multidimensional magician to memory.

With the innate assurance that no one so stunning is striding into a beer hall at the Hellfire Club mid-morning because they desperately want a soft pretzel, Susan shifts slightly, turning to face to the side of the table she's claimed to better face the approaching woman head on, hands dropping to clasp her lifted knee, causing her to bend forward ever so slightly like she's curling in anticipation.

Those eyebrows lift higher as Spiral speaks, head tilting thoughtfully. "Oh, I'm sure I can adjust my schedule for you... Miss? Something tells me you're going to be far more interesting than planning another gala. And I do have time before the planning needs finished. It's important to take breaks. So how can I delight you today, hm?"

Spiral has posed:
The urge to mirror Susan is strong, as a partner might do before agreeing to a dance. Some signal to begin a pattern of movement, balancing of a set stage. Or facing off against an opponent.

Susan's question of something so simple as a name has Spiral answer quickly. "Spiral." Punctuated by a double-blink and dimples appearing at the corners of her mouth. When she comes to a stop before Susan, there's still a little movement to keep in play. It might appear almost coquettish in a youthful way for her hips to sway gently. Rolling in a slow mo series of sliding motions that add her shoulders into the mix. Like she was drifting in an unseen current.

The compliment does delight her, making her show more teeth. "I absolutely needed to slide in and meet you. A simple conversation." her tongue slithers over certain syllables. There are certain details here that encourage taking the scenic route. "Interesting yes. Interesting plenty." Perhaps she's also trying to commit details to memory, her gaze voracious, tempered by a veneer of trying to be socially acceptable. "I'm getting closer to understanding why Franklin is trying to make a mark on the world. His mother has already blazed such a trail, built up such an empire, has such composure. Poor boy. No wonder he seeks out deals with individuals like me to further his ambitious goals. The mother is so impressive." she says as if this is quite proper.

Susan Richards has posed:
It's clear behind those blue eyes that Susan's mind is working about as... well, as fast as people talk about Susan's mind works. She hasn't met this interesting woman before, and while she's entirely used to people recognizing her when she doesn't know them, it's not so often that the person she doesn't recognize is quite so unique. Eyecatching and intriguing.

"Well. It's lovely to meet you, Spiral... is that a stage name?" Her lips quirk slightly, one eyebrow lifting as she drinks in that subtle, constant motion. She shifts and writhes ever so slightly in her seat, reclining back, arms lifting, fingers lacing behind her head in a show of almost smug, serene confidence as her gaze narrows ever so intently as that voracious gaze wanders, as those syllables purr out as she murmurs dryly. "Oh, I don't think I've blazed /such/ a trail really. Reed has been the driving force behind the scientific advances, the last minute solutions to critical problems." She splits her lips in a crooked little grin, "I just handle the PR and make sure everyone knows about it, hm?" But then her lips press into a slight line, "Oh my. My son has been /making deals/ has he? Just what sort of deal? ...Wait, what sort of ambitious goals?"

Clearly, Susan has not been juggling the various bowling pins of life as skillfully as she thought. She'd been making sure /Val/ wasn't out getting into trouble. This may have allowed Franklin to get into some of his own. Oh my.

Spiral has posed:
Spiral sways subtly before Susan, her head tilting one way and then the other. Maybe she's part snake. "Oh, my old Boss came up with it. And it was specifically set for a stage or two in mind. Many stages actually, all shifting and spinning and rising and falling with the Ratings. He was the worse critic, and still is. Nobody likes a Critic, professional or otherwise."

From behind her back a limb appears, indentical, uncurling like the appendage of some spider or cephalopod. It holds up a finger. "What did he do? Well ~first~ he encased 3 square blocks downtown in a blue dome."

A fourth limb languidly curves out and joins the sway of the others. It holds up two fingers. "Then he started broadcasting on every frequency he could that there was a dreadful ~alien~ in their midst who had no right to exist amongst them." Her two original arms beckon inward as she bows before Susan, indicating herself as the transgressor. She curves upwards as if doing an upward Doggie Yoga pose, but from the mind of some skeevy television exec. Her final two arms emerge and she adopts a Kali-esque Goddess pose, waving her fingers. "Your boy wants me to Uber him to MojoWorld and, while cute as button, your boy did figuratively suggest he'd twist each of my arms behind my back if I didn't agree to his heroic...request. And then he started pleading with me. He came on strong, but he lacks what you have in copious amounts. You know how to bargain, to deal, to negotiate I think. Tit for tat, this for that, wisdom and wiles. I think he was trying to channel ~you~. Trying."

Susan Richards has posed:
Susan finds herself shifting position almost unthinkingly, until she can prop her chin in her hand, huffing out a soft sigh, blowing an artful bit of bangs out of her eyeline as she listens to the explanation of her son's recent adventures and schemings. "It's true, critics are quite tiresome."

Her eyebrows pop up as that new limb makes its entrance, tongue clicking softly, thoughtfully, only to murmur as a fourth limb arrives.

Motion and bending have that perked, curious eyebrow lifting higher, eyes sparkling with curiousity even as her lips press into a thin line that's clearly intended for her son. Surely he will hear something about enclosing part of the city in a blue dome.

And then the bombshell, her son trying to demand a trip to Mojoworld. Oh my, now that's /definitely/ something to discuss with him.

She leans back and sighs out, "That sounds familiar. Mojoworld, I mean. Not entirely unlike the club. Entertainment beyond... public approval. Really, in a way it's the inverse of what we do here, excess and extremes /in/ the public eye instead of carefully hidden."

She tilts her head and murmurs, "I think you and I may need to do some bargaining, Ms. Spiral. If my son is going to have you taxi him to Mojoworld, I'm going to want some assurances you'll ensure nothing goes /terribly/ out of control. And I'm sure we'll be able to come to an agreement, hm? My wisdom and wiles in exchange for your chaperoning him. Or... whatever other agreement we come to. I think it's going to take quite some time for negotiating."

And then, smoothly, Susan is rising up to her feet... it /might/ be forcefield assisted to ensure there's no brief moment where she has to regain her footing, and it launches her directly into Spiral's personal space. "But I imagine even a members only beerhall is a touch public for discussing such things. We don't want to worry the waitstaff or clientele with finding out about multidimensional travel. And the club has a wide range of private rooms for negotiating. Shall I show you?"