17514/Hell Seared Steaks

Hell Seared Steaks
Date of Scene:	28 March 2024
Location:	Lobby - Hellfire Club
Synopsis:	A great dinner day for two powerful ladies.
Cast of Characters:	Mercy Thompson, Jennifer Walters

---

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Wednesday nights are not normally the height of club and social evening fun. Which is why Mercy was sure it be okay for her to make use of that last 'free meal' she earned from Sebastian Shaw back when she fixed his car. Not wanting to be alone and only having a short list of people she think would want to go she tried calling a few. Not the last of which is of course miss Jennifer Walters. She was invited to a free meal at the club slash restaurant as way of non-legally prosecutable bribe for joining Mercy tonight.

    That is why near the bouncer Mercy is waiting, in her best dress (That Sprite helped her get) that hugs her dusky skin and show off her athletic tall frame. She has her hair out of braids for a rare changed and brushed it out. Showing off just how thick her hair is and the fact it is in braids so much having kept it to a slight curve and wave naturally. Instead of the normal 'straight and smooth' way her hair likes to go. She tries to not be nervous and let it show as she shifts on her high heels looking at her cellphone. ~We can go to the VIP entrance tonight.~ Hoping that Jen is not driving and missing the text.

Jennifer Walters has posed:
Jen has mixed feelings about the Hellfire Club. On the one hand, it's -very- shady. Which means - danger!

On the other, it's -very- fancy. Which means - dress up!

On the -other- other hand, Mercy invited her. With the legal temptation of a free meal! Which means--

'DEAL!!' had been Jen's confirmation text, followed by a series of three thumbs up emojis and a winky chef's kiss.

(Really, Mercy had her at 'dress up.')

Mercy gets a reply to her text soon enough, though: 'Ooo, look at miss big shot!' enthuses Jen's message; hopefully she is not, in fact, driving. Either way--

It isn't that long that Mercy has to wait until the very tall, very prominent, very green silhouette that is Jennifer Walters can be seen on the approach, towering over the throngs of people congesting the streets surrounding the Hellfire Club. She's taken the opportunity to raid her closet to hear, dressed to impress in a purple suit and matching purple slacks and high heels. The white button-up she wears - adorned by strappy suspenders - is left half-way unbuttoned to show off green skin and the hint of black lace beneath. She's currently pushing fingers through the perfectly wavy bounty of her green hair as she notices Mercy, a bright grin flashing on her dark green lips.

"Well look at you, all fancy-like!" she compliments as she approaches, coming in for a small, friendly hug. "And a VIP, too! I feel like I'm in the presence of a high roller!"

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Finding Mercy's 'Date' is never the hard job. She smiles as the towering green woman is walking up toward her. "Heels? Really?" The mechanic amused by the fact of Jen adding more height to her frame. "Though I'm sure your ass looks amazing." She looks at herself and feels her cheeks darken just a shade. "Don't get used to it. This is so not me. And the VIP is just because I did one of their big big members a favor. They had an old car I was able to save when insurance wanted it totaled. This is the last of my 'freebies' as it were. I just figured I share the wealth."

    WIth a big smile and a mock offer of an arm to the taller woman, Mercy will escort them to the bouncer. "Mercy Thompson with a plus one." She knows they have a reservation so she doesn't say that. The guy doesn't even look at a clipboard he just looks at the women and nods opening the door for them. "Enjoy your evening ladies."

    With that the pair get into the fine dining restaurant and are escorted to a booth that had a reserved marker on it. "Thanks for coming, Jen. It was nice to have someone to come along with me here." Once they are both sitting, Mercy will cross her legs.

Jennifer Walters has posed:
Mercy's comment on that one benefit of heels after the tail end of her amused question earns a knowing wink from her accompanying Gamma Gal.

"-Exactly-."

Still, it's Mercy blushing that -really- catches Jen's attention. Her brows lift, and with the cluck of her tongue, she teases: "Sorry. I've taken a mental image of this moment. Whenever I think of 'Mercy Thompson,' I'm going to think of her just -rocking- the fanciest dress I've ever seen her wear, rather than her immense and impressive talent as a mechanic."

An amused grin lingers on She-Hulk's lips for a little while after that, but she relents soon enough, electing instead to gracefully hook her arm against Mercy's offered elbow and play the part of the grateful plus one -- even, very helpfully, thumbing at herself when Mercy talks to the bouncer. Once inside, Jen takes a slow look around, taking in the sights with a low whistle. It's not -unfamiliar- to her, but, well...

It's been a long time since she's had the salary suitable for regular dining at places like this, that's for sure.

It only takes a -little- bit of maneuvering on Jen's part to slide into that booth once they get there; the end result is the lean green lawyer machine leaned comfortably back in her seat, arms folding under her chest as she crosses one long, powerful leg over the other. Her head tilts as Mercy offers gratitude, green hair bouncing with the motion as she speaks. "Hey, any time. It's been a while since we've gotten to spend time together. And a while since I've had a good excuse to really dress up!" A smile dances on green lips, dazzling if small. "So thank -you- for inviting me. I'm happy to be your plus one to the creme de la creme anytime."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    "Oh no!" Mercy mock clutches her chest at the news of her carefully constructed outward appearance shattered forever. "Forever I will be relegated to an actual woman instead of grease stained coveralls and power tools." She gives Jen a big grin with her own antics.

    When the wine list is offered, "Just water for me for now. But she can have whatever she wants," offering the wine list over to Jennifer. "If you need the leg room, take up my side. I'm not going to need it as much as you are. I may even promise not to admire your shoes surreptitiously." She wants Jen to be comfortable and enjoy herself after all. "I figure you could enjoy it and I've been trying to crawl out of my winter garage. I always get busy in the winter season and feel like a groundhog than a coyote come spring. So I needed the change of scenery and some top tier meat. This place is awesome and they'll do rare right. Not sure how you like it but enjoy. Not sure how well I fit in this crowd, even if I can talk shop with Mr. Shaw or spend days with Sprite without trouble."

Jennifer Walters has posed:
Wine list offered, Jennifer plucks it from Mercy's grasp and turns it over for a few moments of a true wine-lover's pensive consideration. Her head tilts, tapping her chin with one green index finger. Lips purse.

"... The Chateau Montelena Chardonnay sounds just great, thanks," she ultimately decides, pauses, decides whether or not she should ask for the bottle (she really wants to), "uhhhhhh" but then thinks better of testing the limits of Sebastian Shaw's generosity for plus ones on a car deal, "--yeah, the Chardonnay. Thanks!"

With that, Jen shifts just a bit in her seat to get comfy; it leaves her perfectly primed in a hips-wiggling position by the time Mercy floats her offer. Jen blinks. Her brows raise. And then --

"Why the heck not? Thanks, Mercy -- you're a life saver." And with a relieved exhale, Jen shifts again to take up that opposite side of the booth, long legs stretching out until green ankles peek out from beneath pants legs.

"Hey, admire all you like, Mercy. These are some of my last good heels that haven't been destroyed by evil AIM science experiments or... I dunno... hungry moloids." She frowns at the dawning revelation that more than one pair of her shoes has been eaten by ravenous mole people before swiftly moving on, refocusing on Mercy. "Well, for one thing -- the rarer the better, so bring on that top tier meat. For another... if you're looking for excuses to get out of the garage and live a little, I'm always happy to provide." She swivels her wrist a little in a vague gesture at this offering, her smile one of lopsided self-effacement. "It'll help me forget how open my schedule is."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Given their VIP status and the situation Mercy earned her offer it is very likely the staff will ASSUME it is the bottle, and more if they empty one, rather then a glass. The sommelier will take the list and promises to have it out and at the perfect temperature in but a moment.

    Mercy can't help but smile as Jen stretches out and she reaches over to give one long green calf a friendly squeeze and pat. "There. That's better! The world is not built for women of your stature in general. I don't just mean height either." It is clear that Mercy is in a very good mood. Sure the club and walla-walla is a bit loud for her ears. But the food is second to none! And she loves a good steak. "I can only imagine how hard it is to get shoes that withstand your strut." Mercy can't help but tip her head, "You can't be serious. How are you not busy? I would figure you be having your choice of cases. Given your skills and abilities and everything. Hell you're the top number for my legal savior. It's less about getting out of a garage and just breaking the rut, you know? Getting out. Doing something different. Banality is my kryptonite if anything is. Well that and beige."

Jennifer Walters has posed:
Feeling fingers squeezing around one powerful calf, a pleased little look infiltrates the big green glamazon's expression, providing her a gentle, lingering smile as she looks aside. "-Tell- me about it," she grouses, but that good-natured mood refuses to let her tone get -too- cranky. "I'm just glad the Hellfire Club knows how to build a sturdy booth."

Not that it's something she -couldn't- easily rectify with a little presto-change-o into the much less statuesque and much less green Jen Walters, but, well...

She -likes- being this way.

Stretching out slowly in her more comfortably-lounging position as Mercy speaks, Jen settles one elbow on the top of her cushy seating as she heaves a long-suffering sigh. "My swagger is just -too- strong, Mercy," she laments, (partially) jokingly. "I have to get this stuff specially made! And half the time my clothes end up in shreds by the end of the day! And not in the fun way!" She pauses, lips pursed and gaze squinted, as she ponders this last claim. "--Okay, so it's -kind- of fun." She's lying: it's very fun. Superheroics are -great-. She just likes to grouse.

But she's also happy to focus on her date-for-the-day as Mercy talks about her own rut; her hand settling into her hair, Jen rustles fingers through a thick waterfall of green locks as she considers. "Beige is -everyone's- kryptonite, Mercy." A pause. "Well. Except Beige Man." Serious superhero? Joke? In this crazy world, both are equally possible. "But fi you need to get out there and live a little, rely on your friends. I know I've been looking for more release valves in my life. We can join forces. Defeat banality and beige in one fabulous fell swoop." A wink. A pause. How is -she- not busy, though?

"I mean," she stumbles, "it's fine! It's just -- getting a solo practice off the ground is really tough."

Jen's a -great- lawyer. At business, though? Ehhhhh.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    "Be honest, how man bras have you snapped when you sneezed?" Mercy laughs as she offers her first thoughts about how Jen seems to have built in clothing destruction powers. "Clearly you are the woman to go to if ever charged for indecent exposure then. Miss 'In-a-fun-way.'" She keeps offering a more then human, but still not likely able to hurt Jen, strength calf massage there for the legs beside her.

    "Be honest, if -anyone- has beige super powers it's some Karen 'mom' with that hair style and demanding to speak to everyone's manager." She nods her head and pauses as the wine Jennifer ordered brings it over to their table. "I do that from time to time and hope to get a trip to Diana's island sometime. That will be something. But seriously how you aren't fully booked is beyond me. I was sure I was going to find out I needed to ask you out last month for a dinner tonight.

    Worried she'll stress Jen out with shop talk she will consider a topic change. "So are you planning on dancing tonight or just having a good meal and then we slip out before our angel wings get too dirty?"

Jennifer Walters has posed:
"Oh god." Mercy invokes the dread b-word, and Jen's world comes crashing down. She palms her face. Her -whole face-. In -sheer embarrassment-.

"More than I'm drunk enough to admit to right now, I'll tell you that much," is the green-skinned lawyer's answer, breaking out into a little, awkward laugh. "I've just come to accept that a sensible underwear budget is not in the cards for me anymore. This one, though? This is -solid-. Great quality. Great support. If it goes, I'm going to kill everyone and then myself."

She should really just get rich enough to afford unstable molecules for literally everything. That's the dream...

She will, for now, settle for skillful massages from someone with superstrength, though. Green eyes hood as she stretches that leg against Mercy's touch, relaxing beneath the plying knead of those fingers as a contented little sound slips past her lips. "Look," she begins, with teasing helplessness, "I am what I am. And what I am is a woman who lives for excitement. And leg rubs. Definitely that, too."

It's a snort of a laugh that slips past Jen's lips, though, as Mercy talks about the horrifying superpowers of a Beige Karen. "The dread scourge of TikTok, Beige Karen!" She-Hulk proclaims with a bright grin as her wine comes. She blinks at the bottle, but -- well, she's not going to argue about the promise of enough alcohol to give her a semi-deceny buzz, that's for sure. A mouthed, sincere 'thank you' offered to the server, and she brings her glass to her lips, swirling it once or twice as she listens to Mercy.

"Themyscira is really something. I'll keep my fingers crossed for you to get to see it for yourself soon." As for her schedule, well... this time, her hapless expression -is- genuinely hapless -- which is why she's quietly grateful when Mercy provides an out. "Well... either way, I'm never to busy to make some time for a friend," she declares, and one dark green brow lifts. "And I'm -definitely- never too busy for dancing with the fanciest-dressed mechanic I know."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    "That's the spirit," encourages Mercy about throwing caution to the wind for one night! Is that not a bit of the Club's reputation after all? Mercy's hands are not the softest by far. They have some callouses from her job, but she's strong and turns wrenches all day. That means her grip is actually pretty powerful when she uses it. Knowing she can't hurt Jenny means that she's willing to really chase any knots she feels. Squeezing and rubbing hard on those green games. Least until the bread comes.

    "Tell you what. If you want after the meal we can go to one of our places and I'll see what I can do to rub any tension out of you. If you want me to at least." She's not above doing something nice for a friend after all. True to promise the wine is at the prefect temperature and they got he a She-Hulk sized glass it seems. "How many mechanics besides me do you know anyway, Jen?" Mercy laughs and shakes her head. "I'm not that great of a dancer. Coyotes are know as the prairie singer, not dancers. I'm all for having some fun though and shaking a tail."

Jennifer Walters has posed:
"Mm." Sinking into the booth just a bit in relaxation, those tension points just melt beneath Mercy's vigorous touch as the mechanic speaks.

"You drive a hard bargain," she murmurs at Mercy's offer, intent to enjoy that attention until necessity - and good food! - compels it to come to an end. "But... you've got yourself a deal. Like I'm gonna say no to this magic touch..."

She-Hulk is impressed. She's -also- impressed by the extra level of care HFC staff went through to personalize her experience with a premium Hulk-Sized wine glass. She quietly marvels at it, muttering a, "jeez, for a bunch of seedy old money dudes, they really do think of everything," before she samples that wine with a languid, satisfied sigh. Oh, wine. How she loves thee.

Her little love affair comes to an end, though, with Mercy's teasing question. "Look," she begins, reasonably. "--Shut up." And then she drains the rest of that wine with all due, gamma glam grace. "I know for a fact in this and every other reality, you are my favorite mechanic, and that's all that matters. I can probably get Reed to prove it. Like... with math." Still -- setting her drink aside, she straightens just a bit so that she can offer Mercy a wink, and a finger gun.

"Not to worry, Mercy, you're in good hands," she assures. "I happen to be an -amazing- dancer." She's... okay. But. She's got confidence in spades. And that's what matters!

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy laughs at the 'magic touch' comment. "Pretty sure I don't have -that- kind of magic. Funny if I did but this is just experience from having to get cramps out after lessons." Mercy doesn't mind as she'll even help flex the ankle some and stretch those muscles. When it comes time to order Mercy doesn't even look she just orders the porterhouse special at rare.

    "I learned one thing about this place, is they know luxury and decadence right. Just don't ask how much, because if you have to then you can't afford it for sure." She laughs, not caring if it is 'too loud' to be polite. "Okay. Let's not get math involved tonight. That's fighting dirty Jen." She is all smiles back at the digit armed green woman. "Good. I'll hold you to that and we can have as much fun as we can stand. Though I got a lot of stamina, not that I think you lack that either at all."

Jennifer Walters has posed:
"Fine, figurative magic touch. Whatever it is, it works." This is Jen, coaxed into agreeableness by quality care. This is how you get on the good side of a Hulk*.

*Jen advises against people massaging the Hulk. You never know which one you're gonna get.

Ankle swiveling with that urging, her attention only diverts when the club staff comes to take their order. She considers for a moment, but ultimately, "Hmmm. I'll have the same as her, thanks," ... she goes with what she decided on before they even got inside. Mercy invoked the power word of steak, and now Jen can't get it out of her mind!

"Pffft," is the glamazon's little, amused snort as Mercy talks about the services provided here and the price tag involved. "Right?" she wonders, a grin dancing at her lips. "It's usually a little highblood for me, but... it's not bad to indulge every once in a while. Especially if I don't have to think about the bill." Leaning her side comfortably against the booth, strands of green hair cascade over one eye as she hefts brows in response to Mercy's concession. "Yeah. That's right. I'll drag boring genius stuff into an argument. I'm not afraid to go with the nuclear option, baby." It's what makes her a -damn good- lawyer.

But it's Mercy's final observation that makes Jennifer regard the other woman with a teasingly critical eye. "Is that right?" she wonders, and the corner of green lips tug upward just so. "Then we'll have to put that to the test. Not every day I get to party with someone who can keep up with me!"

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy asks, "You sure Jen? Didn't know you liked your steaks rare. I get my fairly rare." She grins showing her teeth to suggest why that may be the case. But other then that she won't protest and admire what Jen orders. They get the full sweet of sides being all kinds of fun things like spiced corn, glazed carrots, whipped potatoes in bondage gravy, and some other things.

    "My first time here I was really unsure what to expect but I had a really nice meal with one of the higher members here. We got to talk classic cars and he didn't once seem to look at me weird when I was on my fourth steak that night." Mercy laughs a bit and says, "how many foolish people out there really think they can out argue a lawyer? I mean I could out annoy you for sure and prank you to submission maybe. But I am not dumb enough to try and get into a math debate against you."

    "I don't show it Jen but I got a huge competitive streak. Remember who my foster family was?" Mainly a bunch of alpha male werewolf types. "I may not party as hard as you, or bring the house down. I'm not near as attractive as you. But I can bury the energizer bunny." Mercy holds up her water to 'toast' with Jen as she gets ready to really enjoy the night.

Jennifer Walters has posed:
Is she sure?

Jen blinks. Her brows climb. She rubs her chin.

"I mean, I'm not a -blue- rare person," she remarks off-handedly, "... but yeah. Rare's great! I used to get 'em well done but after the whole..."

And here, She-Hulk makes sweeping inward gestures at her whole... besuited She-Hulkness.

"... A lot of my tastes changed around. Nothing quite hits the spot like a good rare steak."

And here, she offers a one-shouldered, blithe shrug, like a wordless 'whatcha gonna do?'

Amusement twinkling in green eyes, a dazzling, white-toothed grin at her lips, Jen plucks up her glass of wine as Mercy talks about her competitive side.

"First of all," she begins, "anyone who gives you a weird look over four measly little steaks isn't worth your time anyway." These are Shulkie's Food Facts, Featuring She-Hulk! "--Secondly... don't sell yourself short, Mercy. You're hot as heck. Remember? With the dress? And it forever remaining in my memories?" And -these- are Shulkie Hot Facts, Featuring She-Hulk! "And -thirdly-... I went to UCLA. And Harvard! Competition's been burned into my blood even more than gamma rays."

And here, grin remaining, anticipation stoking, she brings the lip of her glass to Mercy's, toasting with the softest crystalline chime.

-tink-!

"It's -on-, Ms. Mercy Thompson."