18038/It's a Club of Fire

It's a Club of Fire
Date of Scene:	23 May 2024
Location:	Lobby - Hellfire Club
Synopsis:	Reed locates Sue at the Hellfire Club and asks to her back to Freedom Plaza.
Cast of Characters:	Reed Richards, Susan Richards

---

Reed Richards has posed:
There's a new meaning to Parallel Parking outside.

Of course there wasn't easy parking in front of the Hellfire Club: that's normally valet with all the bells and whistles, no doubt. But there was no chance this car would be taken by a valet.... and also, no NEED for it to be.

So, the Fantasticar is currently parked //above// another car on the street. It just floats there serenely, while passerby gape and stare at it sitting there. The car isn't usually just out in the open like that, not regularly. So it got a bit of confusion for being a UFO before the giant '4' logo is spotted.

Because, yes, the Fantastic Four have that flying car, don't they. Yep.

Reed himself has come inside, in a comfortable stroll. He isn't fully in his Fantastic Four gear-- though the blue suit is underneath other clothing at the moment, gloves loosely hanging out of a pocket. Reed is looking well enough, his hair trimmed and clean-shaven, a gray knapsack over a shoulder containing some things he didn't want to leave in the car. He's currently making friends with the front desk in a polite, calm way: No, he isn't a member. But if they could contact Mrs. Richards, that'd be a great help...

Susan Richards has posed:
"Knight takes rook," a quiet, certain voice counters. Susan Richards is in the VIP lounge, a (second) glass of wine almost completed. She's dressed in white; a form fitting dress hugs her form, accentuating the bits that are still in form, mitigating those bits that are simply beginning to succumb to gravity. She wears the silk and sparkling dress well, her blond hair curled in rolls around her shoulders.

"Queen takes knight," comes the counter, a touch of amusement gilding the tones of her unseen opponent. "I thought you might sacr-

The phone rings behind the well-stocked bar, and a softly spoken conversation is had, ending with the bartender's eyes rising towards the table holding the two women. "Mrs Richards," the words sound almost apologetic, "There is a Mr Richards downstairs." Mind, he doesn't ask 'what would you like us to do?'.

Susan exhales in a long breath and takes hold of the stemware to finish the wine before rising to her feet, setting the king down on its side. "I'm coming."

Squaring her shoulders, Susan walks to the elevator, the one reserved for the VIPs, and takes it down to the first floor. The door opens, revealing the woman in white, the employees there incline their heads as she passes in some vague gesture of respect.

"Reed," the word sounds distinctly unhappy, and she continues, "What are you doing here?"

Reed Richards has posed:
"Sue," Reed greets. He had been happy to go wander the lounge and look around at things, like up at the specialized lights in the lobby. If he weren't who he was, it'd be weird behavior, as if he were some kind of structural inspector taking in the safety of the building for his notes. But Sue arriving brings attention immediately out of THAT quirky little situation.

"I wanted to see where you are spending such a great amount of your time," Reed says, with a cheerfulness he often has in the lab, but even more commonly when they are directly in public and being stared at. He would never air any tension or issue in front of others to damage any of her public reputation. Always respectful of that. Things like that make sense to his tactical mind.

"If I want to discover who you are these days, that seemed like an excellent first step," Reed adds. He moves to one of the lobby chairs, as if testing it for comfortableness. But it also draws them away from immediately being overheard (well, other than the bugs in the ceiling or wherever else that Reed is pretty sure are there).

"Is that the best first step?" Reed then asks, more quietly.

Susan Richards has posed:
Sue pauses, and if she was going to say anything more that could be considered contentious, it fails, lost in the moment. It's taken her a little aback, disarmed her from any defensive posture or position she could possibly have. While he's calm, cool and collected, there have been times in the past where she had been anything but.

Her shoulders drop, and she follows his path into the vestibule with her eyes before she shakes her head. She doesn't want to go back in, she doesn't want to sit down there. Suddenly, there's only one place she wants to go.

"Reed," and the word holds less unhappiness and more surprise, as realization begins to dawn on her, showing that first light that the man is in front of her, not buried in the lab.

Here. As in, here. Right here.

"I..." suddenly she's a little self-conscious, and her hands rise to tug at the dress a little, shifting it.

No," she says finally, her words just above a whisper. "Take me home, please?"

Reed Richards has posed:
It IS a little weird to come outside after long stints in the lab. Perhaps some of Reed looking around could be part of that. But another part of it could just be a mild defense that would allow him to just pleasantly smile and leave if she had required that of him, too. That would have had a different aftermath, though, later.

He does spare her him staring at her as she collects herself: that's more what he's doing. He's not staring her down for an immediate answer with any force. Because he did get concerned that randomly showing up could cause irritation -- if she were in the middle of something. It's not fair to assume he can walk in on her things any more than she can on some of his more crazy experiments.

Though yes, he is there: both mentally and physically. The problem with the lab is he's there physically AND his mind is off in theoretical land, having left the room entirely!

"The car's just outside," Reed supplies calmly, but his smile is full of a quiet relief or hope. He would have gone inside to see her play chess, or whatever else, since his real objective was to have some time with her today.

Susan Richards has posed:
She //wanted// to send him away, to say to the bartender, 'tell him that I'm not coming down'. But the reality was, is, that she //understands// what it means for him to leave the confines of his lab. Without knowing specifics, there is probably a handful of experiments all in random statuses that he could be working on, that he was working on before the decision was made to come here.

Where she is.

Sue nods, looking in the direction of the street and takes note of his parking job. She can't help it, can't help herself, but she laughs, the sound genuine, "That's a new twist on double parking."

It's short lived, however, her expression turns back to the worn, though to glance at Reed and his smile? Her lips press together in a hint of a smile at the sight of that handsome visage, made moreso with his smile.

"Perfect."

Reed Richards has posed:
"Well, that's emperically impossible as I am certain it could be improved, but I appreciate the ten out of ten parking rating, subjective as it is," Reed answers, sensing that she may welcome humor now, and starts to shift that way. She is far more socially adept than he is, and always has been, but they can align on the same wavelength easily enough when Sue gives him good cues -- and he's paying attention to get them. It does take two.

"Bye," Reed warmly gives his farewells to the front desk people, who feel obligated to wave back, due to the overwhelming 'dad vibe' of it. Reed has a knack for shifting into dad-figure status for all sorts of young people.

"I'll open the car door for you, see if we can hit an 11," Reed offers to Sue, answering her laugh with a softer, low-key one. And he would-- though he starts with the door out of the HFC, with only minimal power usage in the wrist.

Susan Richards has posed:
Echoes of the past. Susan can hear the younger Reed in the words; some things never change. The quiet, confident explanations the moment he's comfortable is one of a myriad reasons why she'd fallen in love with him. And here it is again, under the stars, under the lights of New York City.

She doesn't say goodbye to the staff behind her; she's leaving it behind, at least for the night, and she's not about to look back tonight. No. Instead, her heels *click* on the floor, the door opening before her before she can summon her own version of a door opener. "Thank you."

If he can hit 'an 11'? Brows rise as she pauses at the double-stacked cars; Reed's offered to open the door and she'll see about that 11. "That's a tall order," Susan returns softly, her tones starting to find that echo of his own, though there is still a little to go. It's definitely a start, however.

"We'll have to leave quickly before we get a ticket."

Reed Richards has posed:
"I haven't seen this dress before, have I?" Reed asks, curious. He may have. He may not have. Dress recognition is not a Richards strength, never has been. But it does mean he is looking NOW, so there's something in it anyway.

The 'tall order' comment doesn't elicit a laugh, it just brings an open welcome to what he intended to do: which was to shed his coat in one neat motion off with the knapsack into right hand, to allow a full torso stretch and coil neatly around Sue, supporting her with practiced security. The joke about opening a car door was ridiculous: it auto-opens when it senses them near, and is more of a sectional cover than a 'door' in any case.

"My lady," Reed teases her with formality befitting a gallant gentleman and a carriage, as he sets her down in her spot and recoils like the weird rubber band he can be towards his right hand that has slung up towards his own spot in the car.

It's a bit like they are on a parade float, because all of this is in full view of New Yorkers on the street, though Reed has only vaguely acknowledged they are there. He likes people but this wasn't intentionally a show.

Susan Richards has posed:
"No," Sue shakes her head quickly, the curls in her blonde hair swinging. "No I don't think you have." Usually, when leaving the house, she waits until he's ensconced downstairs; like a thief in the night. It's not lost on her that he is noticing such a thing, but before she can say anything, she's lifted into the car with a gentle care that is Reed. He is so familiar with his ability, his strength, and with her that it's easy. Comfortable. Usual.

Nothing out of the ordinary here!

Pedestrians on the street think to differ, however, and there are some pictures taken in the middle of the transition. While Reed may not be concerned about the attention, as brief as it may be, Sue is very aware, and she waves once she is settled in the car. "Thank you," her words honest. She's not talking to the crowd, however, and her face turns away from the street and directed at Reed, "I'd call that 'tall', and depending on how we leave, might make it to an 11." Settling back in her seat, she nods as she faces forward.

Reed Richards has posed:
"Oh! A new one, then. Clean and chrisp white," Reed says. He really is trying to compliment the dress by very accurately describing it. As if accuracy were a way to show he likes it---, he is making the compliment in his own way. If he didn't do that, it's more a sign that he was disengaged or not giving attention. Sue will have to read between the lines a little - but that's also something comfortable, maybe. Their language.

"Seatbelts," Reed teases her. ...There aren't any, not necessary, before they go straight upwards with a smooth upwards thrust of the acrobatic Fantasticar, leaving everyone below to marvel at it's ... bathtub-shaped underside.

To the Freedoms Plaza!

...aka, Home.

Susan Richards has posed:
Sue looks across at Reed again, her head canting, and her expression softens yet a little bit more. She knows what he's saying; she understands his language. How many times she's had to translate? Many. And with the years of marriage under their belt, it's virtually on par with their primary language- common, vernacular English. "Yes, made specifically for me, too." The only thing she truly wears that is specifically tailored is her action suit; she's not one to go for the 'one of a kind'. That probably keeps her more in the public eye than a fashionista; she's 'one of them'. "When we get home, this is going into the closet."

The tongue-in-cheek reminder for 'seatbelts' does bring a laugh, and she shakes her head, "This would never pass inspection," she quips. No seatbelts. The vertical takeoff is familiar as well, though it never ceases to bring a little bit of that stomach shift. Nothing bad, nothing that would even begin to necessitate a conversation; the dampeners work. It's purely visual and psychological.

The pedestrians that are paying attention do get a show! How often does one see the Fantastic couple in the same place, unless it's out and doing, well.. fantastic things? Which, admittedly, has been a little while.

Destination, home.

Reed Richards has posed:
It is far easier to disembark from the Fantasticar once they hit the Freedoms Plaza area; the roof is made for it, a section opening up to turn with a soft song of mechanical tech to allow the car to fit nicely inside it, while the roof itself and the passengers are sheltered from rain or wind beneath the forcefield created on top.

Reed collects his things from the car, starting to slide into more of their familiar pattern, or his own ingrained ritual of things he does when he lands the car, such as keying in for the Wednesday Diagnostics on the console, and other such upkeep.

It's possible to lose him to the lab again, since so many things are things of ...habit, really. And in fact, it almost happens, except he mentally goes through what he's working on (also part of a habit), and recalls that the top item involves talking to Sue.

And so, Reed doesn't disappear off to the lab, he instead adds, "When you're comfortable, I've something to talk over with you!" It carries nothing to worry about in the tone, it would be the same that he'd use to check in about living space decor or something. Better, something he does seem to care about, but is managing to contain it.... for now.

Susan Richards has posed:
The drive through the caverns of steel and glass is as if she's not seen it before, or at least in a very long time. Fresh eyes, perhaps? Fresh perspective, absolutely. Sue closes her eyes as she feels the car come in for its landing under Reed's expert touch; she can see it in her mind's eye. Every movement, every motion. All down to the shut down sequences, and the mental checklist he goes through born of years of detailed checklists.

Once she disembarks, Sue pulls at the dress again, moving it slightly. "Another perfect landing." One they all walk away from! She's found her own voice for teasing, her tones easily underscoring that she's got the utmost faith in him, and his piloting. Between the two, there's no jockeying for 'who drives'. The answer is always 'Reed'.

The view is breathtaking from the upper deck. Again, Sue's taken it for granted, and once again, there's the feeling of 'fresh eyes' wrapped in the warmth of familiarity. Thus, there is a hesitation before she agrees, "Sure," but his tones don't convey one of those 'we have to talk'. "Let me go change. I'll be back in a little bit." With tea, for the two of them.