18092/Artful Escape

Artful Escape
Date of Scene:	28 May 2024
Location:	Cloisters - Metropolitan Museum of Art
Synopsis:	Felicia takes an Uber after stealing a priceless artifact and has a very pleasant conversation with her driver on the way to the hotel.
Cast of Characters:	Felicia Hardy, Candace Hill

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Felicia Hardy has posed:
There are times when flaunting wealth is appropriate.

There are times when hiding behind a mask is appropriate.

And there are other times when one doesn't wish to stand out from the crowd.

That isn't to say that Felicia Hardy looks plain or ordinary, but stowed carefully away are the black catsuits and the formal ballgowns. Today, she's wearing an outfit that's stylish but practical: a black blouse with three-quarter sleeves (with the top few buttons undone, of course), slate gray slacks, and black ankle boots with four-inch heels.

She has a big, slouchy purse over one shoulder and her long, white-platinum hair up in a ponytail behind her, and as descends the steps of the Cloisters Museum with a kind of effortless, feline grace, she's checking her phone... for the location of the Uber she'd called.

It's perfect timing, of course.

She wouldn't have it any other way.

Behind her, in the museum, it was only a matter of minutes until they realized the Book of Hours had been replaced with a fake, but she'd be long gone by then (assuming her Uber was on time), absorbed into the crowd rather than some elaborate escape.

Not everything had to be dramatic, after all.

Candace Hill has posed:
It is a rather lovely day today. Kinda cool with a gentle wind. A perfect day to be out and about. Candace happens to be out and about. She wasn't needed at her main job today so she decided to make a little extra cash by driving for Uber. She didn't need a lot of money. It was mostly because she got to meet interesting people while driving. Sometimes the people didn't wanna talk but others, some light conversation was very nice. She was always courteous of course and respectful of the clients wishes. So talking was a give or take.

So far today, She had made a little better than a hundred dollars by driving. Not bad. But could be better of course. That's when she gets the call. A pickup at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in upper Manhattan. She took that one because usually the tips are nice in upper Manhattan. So She drove her 2020 Tahoe there with a smile. She of course was on time and ready to go for the person in question. She pulls up to the curb and stops.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
The transition is absolutely seamless. They couldn't have planned it any better even if Candace had actually been told in advance she was about to join a master thief's team of accomplices and play getaway driver for the acquisition of a priceless artifact.

Well... priceless was what the museum would have the visitors believe. Felicia was quite happy with the price she'd already negotiated for its sale.

As soon as the Tahoe rolls to a stop, Felicia descends the last step and takes the back door handle in hand, pulling it open with a smile.

"Your timing is impeccable," she muses, a warm curl on the corners of her lips as she slides up into the seat, drops her purse beside her, and closes the door. "The Plaza Hotel, if you please." As if the Uber app didn't already have that as a destination, but it doesn't hurt to be thorough. Especially if you don't want the driver sitting there trying to figure it out on their own.

"Pleasant day so far?"

Small talk, even.

Felicia Hardy is a socialite. Which really means nothing except that she has money -- lots of money. Enough money that, if one were to recognize her from her 'socialite status' (if such a thing were actually tangible), they might wonder why she was taking an Uber at all. If her reputation doesn't preceed her, though, there's always the pearls dangling from her ears and around her neck to hint at her wealth.

Not to mention her designer handbag.

Then again, it is Upper Manhattan. Who doesn't have a designer handbag?

Candace Hill has posed:
Candace smiles and starts driving. Its casual, Not speeding or anything. Completely natural. Its as though there isn't a priceless piece of art in the car right now. "Thank you, I do try." She smiles as she accepts the compliment concerning the timing. "The Plaza Hotel. You've got it." She already knew where she was going of course. Uber told her where she was taking the passenger and about how much the trip would be worth.

"Oh yes. It is a beautiful day to be driving. Don't even need the AC today. Gotta love days like this." She smiles through her rearview mirror. She makes a turn just as a few cops go rolling by, their lights flashing, on their way to the museum. "Huh. I hope no one gets hurt." She comments as she goes. "I frequent Protests and I have seen how often people get hurt when the cops get involved. Its never pleasant."

The driver girl smiles and makes another turn. She is completely at ease. Of course it helps that she doesn't know that she is an unlikely accomplice to grand larceny. She simply keeps going. One thing is certain, she doesn't have a designer handbag. She has a thrift store special handbag that cost her all of three-fifty!

Felicia Hardy has posed:
"Even in New York traffic?" Felicia asks, humor dancing in her eyes.

WWWWEEEEeeeeeooooo

WWWWWEEEEEEEEEOooooooo

WWWWWWWEEEEEEEEEEOOoooooo

Felicia glances over her shoulder as the police cars go screaming past, sirens wailing, and rolls one slender shoulder dismissively.

"I guess I got out just in time."

It's a casual enough statement, easily overlooked, though it has just the faintest hint of an ironic smile that threatens to bubble up into laughter.

"Oh?"

Sirens passed, Felicia settles into the seat and crosses her legs, lazily draping one hand across her thigh and bracing herself with the other so she can have the combination of Candace's profile and her reflection in the rear-view mirror to look between.

"You're an activist? Or are you just a shrewd business woman who hangs around protests because you know they're going to need rides?"

That smile curls a little more -- dangerously playful, a sharpness in her eyes that's almost predatory.

Candace Hill has posed:
"New York Traffic is New York traffic. Its never good but ya just get used to it." She cuts someone off to get in the next turning lane. The tell tale sounds of the city resound from the car behind her. The horn blares a few times before the guy accepts that someone just cut him off and there is nothing he can really do about it. Candace sticks her hand out the window and waves in thank you.

"Yeah it looks like it." the dark haired girl responds to the comment of fleeing the scene. When the topic turns to to activism, she smiles. "Yes I am an activist. But sometimes being on the job helps too." She laughs. "I actually have another job these days. I'm not restricted to just doing Uber thankfully. Now its a side gig and that is a nice thing." She smiles and keeps driving. Another turn and they are on the right street for the Plaza Hotel. Traffic however is quite bad here and they come to a full on stop. "Bah! New York Traffic at its finest."

Felicia Hardy has posed:
There's a soft chuckle from the backseat. No wince or worry about the blaring of the horn. It's just New York. Here, it's actually expected as a valid form of both traffic etiquette and social interaction. You can check all kinds of boxes just by pulling out of a parking spot.

It isn't long before the car comes to a complete stop, though, and Felicia relaxes a bit more against the seat.

"Fortunately, I have all the time in the world."

She pulls her purse closer, digging around for a moment.

"Well, since we have some time, we might as well fill it with something other than silence. Two questions. What sorts of issues do you protest? And what else do you do, besides Uber?"

A compact mirror and a tube of lipstick are fished out from a pocket of her purse, and she takes the time to check her makeup, dabbing faintly at one corner of her lips before starting to reapply.

All while listening, of course.

Candace Hill has posed:
"I tend to protest for human rights for mutants, aliens and the like. That's my primary focus when protesting. I occasionally go to other protests and such but mainly the human rights ones." Candace pulls forward a little and blows the horn at a lady in front of her who happens to be sitting there with a large gap in front of her. "Never change New York. Never Change." She laughs a little.

"She smiles a little and glances in the mirror. "I am a little bit of an artist. I do digital art and sketches mostly. I tried selling my art but it just wasn't in the cards. Currently I'm a driver for Kord Industries. I drive the big boss around especially while his driver's license is suspended." She laughs a little. "Where else am I going to get to drive a Bugatti around?" She shrugs and grins. "I have a hobby I'm wanting to get into but I have a lot I need to learn first. Oh and I need to find a place to live that has a garage. I wanna build a car and actually race." She smiles happily.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
"Teddy Kord."

The is named purrrred from her freshly colored lips with a snap of her compact.

"That's interesting. We met once. I doubt he'd even remember."

It is interesting.

It's interesting that, out of all the Ubers in the all the city she could have gotten at complete random, she happened to get Theodore Kord's talkative personal driver.

Who says Black Cats are limited to BAD luck?

Oh, she's not so tactless as to start launching into questions about which doors he leaves unlocked or whether or not he hides a key under the mat. But there is a little smile.

"So, anyway, you have a heart, then." Back on the activism thing, apparently. "As opposed to the soulless parasites who promote fear just so they can assure themselves more votes -- as if mutants and aliens could ever simply stop being part of our existence, now. I pity the small-minded."

A soft sigh, then, as she slides the compact back into her purse.

"Your art, though... do you have any samples with you? I have some friends, and I'm always looking for unique pieces to invest in."

Or steal. But, in this case, invest.

Candace Hill has posed:
"Yup that's him!" Candace smiles and looks in the rearview mirror. "I think to be remembered by Ted, you'd need to be an automaton." She laughs.

She then thinks about her role as an activist. "Yeah, I can't stand People who want to strip away the rights of people who are just like the rest of us. Its so wrong. Its even worse when those who are in power get the police involved. I've been pepper sprayed before. I definitely wouldn't recommend that to anyone."

She starts moving again. Another car cuts her off. She blows the horn again and throws her hand up in a 'wtf' gesture. Thankfully no single finger salute at least. "Never a dull moment in this city I swear." She laughs a little and shakes her head. She keeps rolling. "Just about there."

Felicia Hardy has posed:
"Pepper spray." Felicia says the word with a frown. "I can't imagine that would be pleasant."

Neither was getting hit with Shocker's gauntlets and then riding him into the sky like some glorious, hooded, human rocket last night. Or nearly getting shot in the face. She could have done with a bit more of Spider-Man, though. Too bad the sapphire next door to all that destruction was on its way out. She might have stuck around to tempt the Itsy-Bitsy-Spider into more shenanigans.

"Brave of you to endure it, though."

There's more driving ruckus, and then a _Just about there_.

"I'll leave you with my card."

More rummaging in her purse, and she produces a sleek, high quality card -- black stock with white lettering. There isn't much on it except for her name and number, but it doesn't need much more than that. It has a very classic, sophisticated, black-tie feel to it.

She sets the card on the center console so it can be claimed at a safe and convenient time.

"If you'd consider selling any of your art, I'd be interested in setting up a time to see it. And, if you're interested in other driving opportunities... well, I don't have a Bugatti, but I do have a need to get around town. It's so hard to find competent people."

Horns and 'wtf' gestures aside. Or maybe especially because of them.

"Maybe you'd consider texting me your information... in case I needed another ride."

Candace Hill has posed:
Candace smiles and accepts the business card. "Thank you. I may take you up on that." As the car comes to a stop again, She grabs her phone and pulls up her favorite art piece that she did. Its an image of a girl, surrounded by a bunch of faceless people. The face on the girl looks like fear... or hope? The faceless people look like they are on fire. All in all the image is intense to say the least."That's my favorite one that I've done. I've got a few more on my phone but that's the one I like most.

Candace smiles and nods, "Yeah finding competent drivers in this city is like trying to find a needle in a hay stack. I've been driving since I was Sixteen and am still going. I'm looking to start driving between New York, Metropolis and Gotham. See if I can get more business that way." She smiles.

The car rolls just a little further before she pulls up to the Plaza Hotel. "We are here. Thank you for your business. I hope you have a lovely day."

Felicia Hardy has posed:
Felicia leans forward so she can see the phone's screen better, and she's quiet.

"Powerful," she says softly. "I think we've all felt like that. Alone as the world burns around us." Pause. "I hope you will."

Then her eyebrows are lifting.

"Private, long distance trips. I -- "

She was just starting to gather herself up when her phone started ringing.

"Sorry. Excuse me."

Then she withdrew it from a side pocket and tucked it under her ear with a smile.

"Hello, darling... no, it was absolutely purrfect."

A soft laugh escapes her lips.

"I'm just pulling up now. I was having a _very_ pleasant conversation with my driver, who's an activist, an artist, a mechanic, and a race car driver." Another quick laugh. "Yes! Uber. Can you believe it? And get this, she drives for Ted Kord." Pause. "I know! What are the chances?"

Once more, Felicia rummages in her purse, and this time, she pulls out a slender wallet. Artfully manicured nails dip in, doing a quick count, and then extract some cash.

"Well, I'm trying to convince her to show me some more of her art. We'll see."

Finally, she sets the cash on the center console, where she'd put the card. Five bills. All hundreds.

"Thank you, Candace. You were wonderful." Her name and picture shows up as the driver of the Uber. Doesn't miss a trick, our Black Cat. Slips her purse over one shoulder just as one of the valet attendants opens the back door, and she still has her phone to her ear, though it's muffled against her jaw. "Good luck. I hope you get your race car."

"Good afternoon," the attendant offers.

She simply smiles her sly, playful smile at him, but a wink is given towards Candace. Then she's out and striding for the door of the hotel.

"Which room are you in?" Felicia can be heard asking as she fades into the crowd of guests, and then attendant closes the door of the Tahoe.