1706/Quite the View

Quite the View
Date of Scene:	16 May 2020
Location:	Rooftop of Janet's Penthouse, New York City.
Synopsis:	A quiet dinner-date night on a penthouse rooftop and a string-lofted rendition of 'At Last' for Steve and Janet, always time well-spent.
Cast of Characters:	Janet van Dyne, Steve Rogers

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Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet van Dyne is not as epicurean as some-- those who travel and covertly award Michelin Stars or AA Rosettas to the fiercely competitive prime chefs at the top of their game.

She does love to eat, and when she eats, she eats well. Nearly every restaurant in New York has her at the top of their seating priority, knowing full well a single tweet from her phone could triple business almost overnight.

But there is also a time for the quiet and comfort of familiar grounds, which is why Janet and Steve are sharing a narrow table for two set out on the rooftop balcony of her penthouse. Soft mood lights are strung around, and on the lower balcony, a small quartet of musicians is playing exquisite, lilting orchestral music.

"Okay, so, wait," Janet says, and lifts a hand to cover her mouth while she chews. The fork between her fingers waggles, begging patience. "Juggernaut floored Thor *and* Jen? And Natasha's solution is to go drag Bruce into it?" Her slender eyebrows dance skeptically. "I would have figured she'd, like. I don't know. Do some ninja spy thing. What do you do to fight something that can slow Jen down?"

Her fork dips and whips bolognase and noodles around the times. Sensing an opportune moment, Janet's butler steps over and offers to refill her wine glass, then silently extends the same courtesy to Steve before stepping back out of the way and politely continuing to ignore the conversation. Like the rest of Janet's personal staff, they're right around the corner if needed, but otherwise invisible and out-of-mind for the time being.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Such an affair required a fine dress-shirt at the very least as well as Steve's best slacks, even if those aren't his best dress-shoes and he's got one button at his neck undone for comfort in the balmy early evening air atop the roof. He glances up from hunting after an errant noodle dropped from the spin of his own fork and grins, his smile curling enough to flash teeth and a dimple at one corner.

"Nat's skill set is varied. Maybe the 'ninja spy' thing wasn't the best answer at the time. Mean, I think I wouldn't have taken Juggernaut head-on like that -- more redirect the momentum. Let'im get up a head of steam 'nd then side-step 'im as he whips by. Grab a wrist, spin 'im like you would in any hand-to-hand combat, 'nd floor him." Steve squints for a second. "Wonder how far down into the earth he'd go if somebody redirected him at top speed. Be bad for the pipe lines 'nd all, but it'd slow him down, maybe even trap him. You'd also have to have strong enough shoulder sockets to dig in your heels 'nd pull the move," he adds in all fairness.

A quiet thanks given to the butler for a refill of wine, supposedly invisible and yet Steve is hyper-aware of the staff's presence even after all these years. "Regardless, team handled it well. Could've turned out much worse than it did, 'specially with somebody who can move like Juggernaut can." He gives Janet now a more intrigued look.

"How's it feel to have your work displayed for the world to see in the show?" He means Pepper's gift.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet's slipped into a red number that could have stepped right out of the 40s, albeit if the designer had an eye for boldness. The red dress clings close to her ... wasp-like curves, emphasizing the flow of her contours in a way her slight frame might otherwise conceal. Black stiletto pumps flash a red undersole when she moves them. The sweetheart neckline leaves her collarbone and shoulders exposed to the air; ambient heaters tucked out of sight keep the balcony's temperature a balmy 72 degrees even as the sun sets.

"It feels just and proper," Janet says with a beaming smile of contentment. "As in, all the world is arranged just like it should be. It was such a thoughtful thing to do," she tells Steve. "I can't imagine the strings she had to pull to do it. Lord knows though, I'll get goatroped into one of Tony's charities. Probably one that's failing spectacularly. 'Oh Janet, we would just love it if you'd show up, bring some friends, maybe some selfies'," she says, mimicking Pepper's voice as she pokes at her food. "It's all a vicious cycle, honey. Don't buy into the table, that's my advice." She blows him a kiss and then cools her spaghetti with it before taking a bite.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Can't go wrong with the color red. No doubt she's caught and will catch those fleeting moments when her other half is very simply distracted by the number she wears. Steve still clearly attends on her thoughts as he sets his fork upon his plate, tines down, in no way finished with the mound of pasta. His fingers pinch the stem of his wine glass and he sips, brows lifting. Mmm, definitely an appropriate blend for the meal at hand.

"Nothing wrong with helping out a charity," he opines mildly, very familiar with the art of socializing and using his presence to bring attention where necessary. "Though your wisdom is noted. Might have to make a showing at the show though, <<Seillean>>, maybe promote it at one of the bigger museums." He glances over at the skyline, where the sun is just dipping down and out of sight.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Did I say that?" Janet says, with a tone of indignant protest. "I did not. I said I'd get goatroped into one," she points out. She shifts her legs under the narrow table, crossing and recrossing them, and rests the toe of her pump against Steve's shin again.

"But that's not a bad idea. Do a twofer thing," she hedges, considering. Bolognase gets chased across her plate and piled up into a neat little pyramid against the edge of her fork. "The Met's going to want at least one gala opening under the roof, of course, but I might be able to talk them into sharing the spotlight with some other arts group. Manhattan Philharmonic has been flagging a little lately."

"There's a possibility the exhibit might go overseas," she informs Steve. "Usually for a week or two. Makes a circuit around Milan, Prague, Paris. I might not make it to any of them, but if you wanted an excuse for a little vacation, it'd be a good one. Hop in the jet, a red-eye across the pond, two days of fun in Europe, back home by Monday evening?" The suggestion is extended with a playful, teasing tone.

Steve Rogers has posed:
For the little pressure of toe at shin, a slide of his shoe to touch against the outside of one of her pumps in return. Footsie indeed. Steve still smiles in that way of his communicating that while he was gently teasing, yes, he isn't sorry for it. In regards to the Manhattan Philharmonic, he nods decisively -- yes, an excellent idea to get them involved.

His brows lift at the fashionista's suggestion nonethless and he glances up from spinning another mouthful of pasta. "Don't see why we wouldn't be able to do it. I'll check in with Fury, let 'im know we'd be out of the city whenever the possibility comes up. Bear in mind, <<Seillean>>, that if things're in hand here, it'd be best. Don't want to get a call at midnight in Prague that there's been an incident requiring the team's intervention." Because that would be a hell of an incident. So sayeth the busiest bumblebee, rarely able to separate himself from the task of tending the state of the city and the world beyond it.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Steve, you /are/ allowed to take a day off once in a while," Janet points out with a dry tone. "Even two or three, if you like. I'm pretty sure you've got enough accumulated leave time that you and I could disappear into the Aegean or Thailand for a month or two and it wouldn't even be a blip on your time card."

She stares at Steve and sighs with resignation. "I'm not even making a dent, am I," she says rhetorically. "Fine, whatever-- ask Fury for a little R&R," she informs him. Eyes glimmer with amusement as a thought occurs. "I'm choosing to take it as a challenge to see how much fun I can cram into a ninety-six hour period," she says with a vastly self-satisfied tone, and defiantly scoops up more noodles.

Steve Rogers has posed:
The demur expression on Steve's face is not any form of argument against Janet's supposition about time cards or making dents in them. He very innocently looks down at his pasta as he twirls up another bite, only looking up again with a wry twinkle of laughter in his true-blues as she sighs.

Challenge delivered, she's earned herself some pinking at his ears now which has nothing to do at all with the wine he's had, no more than a second glass at present. Steve lifts his glass in salute to her tenacity brought to bear against his near-unyielding work ethic as he swallows his mouthful.

"'s'a matter of not giving SHIELD HR a heart-attack 'nd Fury a reason to spend time lambasting me for ghosting him. Again." Golden brows lift even as he sips at his wine. It is, in fact, just a tiny bit terribly funny to have successfully ghosted the Director of SHIELD. He set aside his wine again, noting more quietly with a dangerously dimpled smirk, "Looking forward to seeing what you come up with nonetheless."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Great!" Janet says, brightly. "I'll take that as a commitment. I'll send over some dates and let you pick the one that works best. We'll make a whole trip of it," she promises Steve.

Her share of the meal is set aside and Janet rolls her fork over, a discreet signal for the butler to swoop in and bear her plate away. Fingers curl around her wineglass and she sits comfortably back in the chair, balancing the stem between ring and middle finger and holding it carefully out to one side.

"You know, you could have any job you want," Janet points out to Steve. "Private or public sector. Run for political office, or do work as security. Be a consultant with a grossly padded expense account," she points out. "Senator Steve Rogers has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Two days," he gently reminds the fashionista, with no ire. Serendipitously, the Captain's plate is also clear when the butler steps in to remove plates. He again offers polite, quiet thanks and rather than lean back into his chair, he still sits upright, forearm rested on the table. The other hand silently bops a fingertip off the base of his own wine glass, his attention still all for her. His smirk hasn't faded, only gone fonder. It does lessen for a bemused second before he laughs once at her observation.

"I could, but dunno if I like the ring of Senator. Dabbled enough in politics to know it's not where I can make the best impact on the world. Rather be on the front lines working with the team 'nd with SHIELD. Don't think you really want me to disappear off into private security...? Never be around because somebody with more money to drop wants a super-soldier as body guard -- have to fly off to another continent in the middle of the night to consult a foreign government after jumping through hoops to get there?" Steve lifts those expressive brows again. "You'd never see me, <<Seillean>>."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Five days," Janet counters, and sips from her winglass. "See, you could come work for me," Janet says, brightly. "It'd make things so much simpler. We could travel whenever we want, no timetable, no timeframes," she says, and leans forward across the table with as much allure as she can muster. Wide eyes blink doe-like at Steve and she starts trying to worm her fingers into his hand.

"You'd be looking out for me, and I'd feel safer-- and then you would be off the taxpayer dole and making ... I don't know, what do you make now?" she hazards. "Double it, whatever. And then you could -save- me from trouble and I could..." Her eyes flicker to the side and she lets a great, busom-heaving sigh roll through her chest. "Thank you for it afterwards."

Those hazel eyes flicker impishly sidelong at Steve, ruining what was surely an Oscar-worthy performance.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Once she looks back at her other half, Janet will surely appreciate the semi-slack moue of a Rogers rather rattled. It was the sigh, really, along with the entangling of fingers and rather visually-pleasing (deliberate) slouch towards him. He blinks a tad bit longer than necessary as if to recalibrate his brain and then briefly squints at her, smirking up a storm.

A good sport to the end, this man, and good-natured enough to acknowledge a ploy well-leveled at him.

"<<You are a troublemaker>>," he first chides in Gaelic; the word for 'troublemaker' will likely be recognized, used enough around the fashionista and translated more than once. "Dunno if your business has the amount of action 'm used to, <<Seillean>>. Nothing like dodging lasers or tackling someone through a brick wall to get the heart pumping. Don't forget jumping out of planes without parachutes, does your business allow that?"

A beat and he adds, with a point off the bulb of his wine glass now, "Three days."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Four days, three nights, and you have to wear something nice to the gala," Janet says, with a firm final offer. Fingers squeeze Steve's again as if implying a handshake. "And last I checked, Steve, I'm still an -Avenger-," Janet points out for his benefit. An expression of infinite patience settles on placid features. "Which requires a lot of running jumping and falling out of serviceable aircraft, and sometimes there are even lasers," she agrees.

"So, naturally, I'd be in the thick of that, and then you'd be right there with me. Which you do almost all the time anyway," she observes. "I mean, it's a win-win, isn't it?"

Janet picks up a crudite, puts it between her front teeth, and snaps the crisp orange stem off. "I mean, wouldn't you look forward to work Monday morning if said work didn't involve getting out of bed?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Actually, no," replies the super-soldier to the gorgeous woman across from him. His own features mirror Janet's composure but for the faint, knowing curl at both ends of his lips. "I'd be terrible 'bout staying in bed 'nd you know it well. I like my morning jogs. Hard to stay abed unless 'm recuperating from a gunshot wound." He lifts an arch brow and takes a sip of his wine before setting it aside, a third remaining in the bulb.

"Thankfully, right now, nobody's shot, nobody's dodging lasers or jumping out of airplanes, 'nd we're both Avengers with some time to ourselves." The sun has set and the city is slowly coming alive for the night around them, windows lighting like gatherings of steadfast fireflies on metal. "'nd 'm content to be by your side right here 'nd now." He gives her hand a squeeze before releasing it in order to rise. Around the table he steps and offers out his palm again, his lips parted in an absolutely charming smile.

"C'mere 'nd dance with me, <<Seillean>>. That dress was made for it," he murmurs, blue eyes full of banked heat.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet narrows her eyes at Steve as he comes around the table, and folds her arms defiantly for a few seconds. She even looks the other direction. Regrettably, her acting talents are not up to the par of keeping the flushing red out of her cheeks at Steve's poetic turn.

"You suck," she mutters, and slaps her hand into Steve's palm. Up she goes, and by the time they're through one turn, the feigned irritation is utterly evaporated and she smiles up at Steve's face adoringly.

"Mm, one sec--" belly to belly with Steve, she leans back and casts her voice to the lower landing. "How about 'At Last'?" she inquires of the quartet. The violinist salutes her wiht a flick of the bow, and moments later the cello sings out those sonorous opening notes, sans the dulcet voice of Etta James.

"You can't blame me for trying, can ya?" she tells Steve, and bats those hazel eyes up at him again. "I'm allowed to be a little selfish with you. I think that's reasonable."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Oh so patiently, the Captain leaves his hand out, trying very hard not to chew on the inside of his cheek against laughter and give away the fact that this proposed petulance is hilariously ridiculous. He takes her hand once it sassily lands within his own and with practiced grace does he pull her to him. Indeed, a spin out and into the spare space of the terraced rooftop and he can't help the mildly smug grin now.

He wins.

Approval of her song choice comes in his very faint humming along with the cello, just at the correct pitch to blend without ruining its efforts and perhaps loud enough to be noticed by his dance partner. A sedate two-step, this song is, easy to fall into; Steve does with the ease of a hand at the small of Janet's back and the other cradling hers lifted.

"Long as you realize I get to be selfish with you too, young lady," he murmurs back, eyes gone softer at her now.

(Version of the song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=av0ckzQZ2-g )