15738/Drinking with(out) Doom

Drinking with(out) Doom
Date of Scene:	28 August 2023
Location:	Coffee of DOOM
Synopsis:	Doom misses meeting a witch, sorcerer, and fancy pants Aesir.
Cast of Characters:	Wanda Maximoff, Stephen Strange, Brunnhilde

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Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Not often does Wanda venture into Union Square. Call it a matter of personal respect to avoid the Latverian dictator, no matter how charming the shiny mask might seem. Assuming everyone working here and most of the clientele work directly for him, or happen to be his bots, is wise.

Sometimes she hankers for the kind of coffee only found in Mitteleuropa though. Sometimes, a girl has to make some tough decisions.

Thus she sits neatly at a seat near the middle of the cafe, not far from a piano player. The server eyes the Avenger as he would anyone, politely and impassively. A menu is laid before her and he ghosts away, possibly replaced by bots. Possibly.

Stephen Strange has posed:
It is not too often that Stephen is seen anywhere outside the direct vicinity of Greenwich Village or the nearest mystical mayhem. Yet today, he is out and about. And without his usual accoutrements as well. No cloak, much to its dismay, or other raiment that would immediately identify him Master of the Mystic Arts. Today, it is just Stephen Strange...and today he is looking for caffeination as well.

Though, for those that do know him personally, it would be fairly easily to identify Strange. That face is pretty unique. As is the individual fairly close to the piano player. And yes, his appointed server gives the detached air that he would want to be anywhere else but here. A soft murmur...and Stephen steps away from the server, to approach the table where Wanda sits.

"Forgive the intrusion. Is this seat taken?"

Of course it isn't...but it is polite to ask, nonetheless.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Greenwich Village, heart of all mysticism outside plenty of other towers and citadels. The sort of place Wanda rarely needs to go, though her red path overlaps the blue sorcerer's. Stephen Strange seeks coffee. The red witch already has it.

Her smile lifts the moment the question arises, though long before that, his unique magical signature brushes over her senses. In turn, the chaos-streaked aura sharing much too much in common with the leylines around here probably announces her in kind. No secrets among equals. No active spells, either. Other than the one used to tame her curling hair, she carries no outward active magical signatures at all. Spare a lady her charms!

"If it were, it wouldn't be for long," Wanda drawls, and gestures. "You're just in time. The cameras swiveled fifteen seconds ago."

Brunnhilde has posed:
It's not often that the Valkyrie finds herself drawn to these kind of places. First, it doesn't have booze that she knows of. Second, it has some creepy robots she isn't too sure she likes that much, along with she knowing there's some weirdness surrounding the Latverian Dictator.

Though that name? Curiosity clearly killed the cat because she wants to see what's with calling the coffee Doom. And what kind of mortals dare to come here to challenge Doom as well..

Hilde is casting a look around when she spots him. Doctor Strange. A smirk comes to her expression. Of course, it had to be him. So she starts striding over to the table where the man is at, not paying the red head with him too much attention.

Stephen Strange has posed:
A soft chuckle escapes from Strange as he claims the empty seat across from Wanda. Yes, he certainly knew that Wanda was present even before he stepped into the cafe. And no, he was not going to assume anything. Everyone has their secrets and maybe the fact that it is a lone hair-straightening glamour that Stephen would sense brings him some mirth to his day. Goodness knows he wouldn't be above casting a little assistance, as well.

He is, however, quite free of any cantrips. Not even a scrying spell. Instead, he expresses thanks. "I have been told I should be more social. I certainly do appreciate allowing me the opportunity."

A beat. "I do also find it amusing that Doom has his own line of coffeeshops. It does give me some satisfaction to know that, in some indirect manner, he is serving me. Even if it is a simple coffee or tea."

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Coffee by way of Vienna -- or Latveria aping Vienna -- comes in many forms, many dark. This puts Wanda in a prime position to select her preference, in this case a melange with a dollop of ice cream and a small splash of espresso to leaven the sweetness. Other options, especially Grand Marnier, may be on the menu. But not for her today.

She doesn't thumb through the menu or flip it over, leaving the book for Stephen to peer through as he likes. Soft musical notes shimmer from the pianist tuning his instrument before breaking into a lively piece by some lesser-known composer sure not to offend the ears or the dictator.

She lifts her gaze as Brunnhilde nears, the musician not at all interesting. "I believe this is one of the few. A good cultural outpost, isn't it?" she returns the comments in light conversation, awaiting the server. The other woman is clearly not that, she isn't in a tuxedo. A drink order goes, and she considers the inbound figures and those heading out. "Told to be more social? Fancy that. People might fear us out in the general milieu."

Brunnhilde has posed:
The looming shadow of one Brunnhilde heralds her approach as she closes in on the chair Stephen is sitting on. Hands grip the sides of his chair, solid, keeping it still. "Well, well, well.." comes the familiar voice from behind, a long braid of blonde hair sliding down her shoulder and front when she leans forward.

"What a coincidence finding you here, wizard." She grins. Toothily. Friend or foe? The tone could mean anything, "Out for a stroll with ...." and she takes in the redhead for the first time. She squints her eyes and comments to Strange, "This is not her." whatever 'her' is she talking about?

A shrug follows and she lets go of the wizard's chair, reaching to take a chair to sit down by their table as well, "I will let you know I finally found the sword. It'd be a story but I am too thirsty to tell it." a gesture then offered towards Wanda. "I am Brunnhilde."

Stephen Strange has posed:
"Yes. There might be some that would give a sideward glance to the likes of us."

Whatever thread of conversation that Stephen was going to delve into is cut short as two rather strong hands latch onto the chair Stephen is currently occupying. He didn't need the blonde braid to know who it is. He probably didn't even really need the voice, ominous in its greeting. He does, however, doesn't seem none too stressed. A polite, if not slightly impassive facade. When he does speak again, it is with the same pleasant inflection, though there is a bit more of a formal tone.

"A pleasure as always, Brunnhilde." A pause, as the Asgardian comments on his conversation partner. "No, this is not Illyana. Allow me to introduce you to Wanda Maximoff." The colorful appellation is not given. Nor did Strange deem it necessary.

When Brunnhilde takes a seat, the fact that a sword has been located does strike the good Doctor with some interest. "Is that so? Well, I am glad you was able to locate it." No, he is not going to clarify why they are talking about swords. Wizards gotta be mysterious sometimes.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
Many times has Wanda been 'not her.' A stand-in for an eldest daughter, a younger daughter, a queen, an Atlantean ancient, worse.

Better, if a stranger. Those clear green-gold eyes take in the blonde, her measure made in a glance, a greeting far longer than that. "Hello, Brunnhilde. Wanda," she explains without any longer preamble than that. If they need more, they can have more as it suits.

If Stephen isn't slapping the Aesir's hands away, then far be it from her to say 'Portal' backwards and wiggle a sling ring. She will wait until all is well to smooth out her serviette on the table in anticipation of a drink. "Do swords regularly go astray?"

Brunnhilde has posed:
"Maximoff. Mmmm.." Hilde gives it some thought. Has she heard the name before? There's a brief shrug that follows soon after, "The threads of fate seem to favor that name." whatever she means with that. Not that she is forthcoming with any further explanation on it, fully sitting down on the chair she pilfered from another table. Elbows rest on her knees.

"Some swords have a will of it's own. But if Stephen isn't willing to share the story it won't be me doing so." A gesture with her hand, "It was Asgardian business with a dash of wizardry." a smirk at the Sorcerer Supreme.

"Which speaking of, you know we still have business to do you and I." her tone getting more serious. "Regarding Hel." no small talk for this Hilde!

Stephen Strange has posed:
"It isn't my story to share. It is yours, Asgardian." Two can play the name game. If Stephen is 'wizard, then Hilde is 'Asgardian'. "However, for Wanda's sake, Brunnhilde's sword was entrusted to my care and, through extraordinary circumstances, it was stolen from the Sanctum. Which I am constantly reminded of, whenever our paths cross. It was Amora's doing, using magic powerful enough to breach the Sanctum's defenses. I apologized. Repeatedly."

A side-glance is given to the Valkyrie at the table as Stephen nods. "Yes, I know. You and Persephone both are fond of reminding me of that crusade. We shall indeed delve within and correct that which needs rectification, in due time." Note that Stephen doesn't mention *when*. That will happen soon enough.

Wanda Maximoff has posed:
"Swords tell sharp tales, but fear the pen most. For a stroke of that can sunder plans and rewrite stories as well as any steel." Wanda reaches for the small handle-less cup and saucer presented to her by the server. A tray with a small biscuit and a glass of water rounds out her mélange, and whatever else the others care to drink will eventually reach them. "Not my business, heard clearly."

She winks and then pours a small splotch of water into the melting ice cream and espresso confection that really isn't a coffee except by sheer prayer. Happenstance? "A breach of the Sanctum's defenses is no minor thing. I do so hope Amora learned not to try that again? Correction is a useful tool for learning."

Her interest, however bright, in Persephone and crusades is kept behind her tongue.