1743/Evil Empires

Evil Empires
Date of Scene:	19 May 2020
Location:	A private and remote adjunct of the Hellfire Club.
Synopsis:	Norman and Martinique make their first acquaintance and become fast friends.
Cast of Characters:	Norman Osborn, Martinique Wyngarde

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Norman Osborn has posed:
Norman Osborn has been holding court for some time at a large table he's selected for himself. He ate heartily - rare steak and prime rib, baked potato, asparagus spears, several glasses of red wine. He remains hydrated, though, and not a bit tipsy, his metabolism apparently not prone to being overwhelmed by a little bit of booze. He's had two meetings already today, one with a lawyer who almost wet himself after being sharply questioned by the notorious Osborn, the other with several managers at OsCorp who needed direction in regard to priorities in the research and development division.

Now left alone, Norman seems to be contemplating something, gazing out the window at a view of the wider city and stroking a finger along the rim of his goblet. There are a half dozen others at the Club at this hour, but all of them give Norman a wide berth beyond a nervous nod. Even among predators, he radiates menace - and that's without his secrets being exposed.

If they only knew how truly dangerous the man among them in the Tom Ford suit was. He runs a hand through his sliced back hair as he lets his mind drift to more chaotic entertainments. He's getting the itch to stretch his wings again.

Martinique Wyngarde has posed:
Martinique Wyngarde may have a family history with the club, of sorts, but if her father years ago had issues, she doesn't know about them. But she manages to get in. Her coat left at the door, leaving her in the tight green bodysuit. She adjusts the zipper, and mingles in. Smiling, mouthing hints at small talk. Her eyes are on one particular overweight 'legitimate businessman.' Distracting his 'associates,' she winks at him, and discreetly presses a tracking device to his lower back. Which of course he reads as another move entirely.

And just like that, she's walking away. Stretching her arms out, content with a job well done, she actually decides hey, might as well. So she settles in front of a cheese platter being offered to members, and bends to help herself to cheese and a cracker.

Norman Osborn has posed:
Norman Osborn takes note of the woman, of course. First of all, she's utterly notable, both in her choice of attire and her physical beauty. Norman also immediately admires her confidence, the way she walks in as if she's untouchable. The way he walks.

He signals to a waiter and sends an glass of wine to the young woman and the open invitation to join him at his table, should she so desire. Did his eyes catch her sleight of hand with the bplump businessman. Perhaps. Osborn plays his cards rather close to the vest and he rarely shows his hand except to strike.

Martinique Wyngarde has posed:
Martinique Wyngarde is tapped on the shoulder, and looks up. The drik offered to her, the message whispered, she smiles, and nods. Lifting the glass to sip, her eyes move, as she turns toward Norman. Then with a nod to him, she walks right over. Perfect posture, and yes, still confident. Once close, she smiles "Thank you and good evening."

Norman Osborn has posed:
Norman Osborn smiles, "Good evening to you. Norman Osborn. A pleasure to meet you. So often, I'm left with rather unattractive company, dim-witted and pig-eyed scions of old fortunes who linger here in their decadence, rotting in their seats as the world devolves beneath them. Rarely does anyone catch my interest. You are an obvious exception," he smiles.

"But, of course, your novelty alone brings the question of just what might bring you in this dim-lit and elite company. Certainly I can't imagine that human jowl over there is of any interest to you in a personal capacity," he says, nodding to the man whom she'd tagged.

Martinique Wyngarde has posed:
Martinique Wyngarde helps herself to a seat, just a couple of feet from Norman's own. She sets her glass down, and her napkin with a cracker, and leans forward. "Martinique," she replies softly, with her own name. "Why thank you again. And well, I'm familiar with the man. And his work in certain communities." Particularly mutant refugees.

Norman Osborn has posed:
Norman Osborn smiles, "Martinique," he says, eyes darting down for a moment and then meeting hers directly. "Exotic and uncommon. Much like you yourself," he smiles.

"Ah, yes. He is something of a loathesome specimen. I'm sure some might say the same of me, but I'm far more open-minded than he. Perhaps no more ethical, merely less prejudiced," he says with a smile. "I would never claim to be a saint. Still, if your interest in him is less than harmless, consider me approving."

Martinique Wyngarde has posed:
Martinique Wyngarde looks back at the large man again, her body shifting as she does so. "He deserves whatever he brings upon himself," she says quietly, before turning again to face Norman. "I don't believe in saints, Mr. Osborn. I believe in money, and justice." she adds just above a whisper, before taking another sip of her drink.

Norman Osborn has posed:
Norman Osborn smiles broadly, "Justice can be in the eye of the beholder. Sometimes it seems unjust for the little fish to be eaten, but it is just for the shark to devour," he says. "He seems like chum to me. I might enjoy watching in you eat him alive. But, then, I'm sure I'd enjoy you watching you do most anything," he says.

Martinique Wyngarde has posed:
Martinique Wyngarde looks at Norman, riffling through his thoughts... before attempting to implant a very brief illusion into his head. Just a flash, just a moment. She then licks her lips, and swallows. "I don't knwo if you want to know what I'm capable of, Mr. Osborn. But I don't know what you can get away with in this place."