1911/Does the Rain in Spain Stay Mainly on the Plains

Does the Rain in Spain Stay Mainly on the Plains
Date of Scene:	31 May 2020
Location:	Madrid, Spain, Europe
Synopsis:	A much-needed vacation to Madrid, Spain starts off with a thunderstorm. That's not enough to keep Janet and Steve inside!
Cast of Characters:	Janet van Dyne, Steve Rogers

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Janet van Dyne has posed:
Madrid is one of the great cultural capitals of Europe. Much like Paris, there is a constant tug between the modern and the ancient; traditional and progressive. The lack of industry makes it a huge center for the arts, for fashion and cuisine in particular.

Steve and Janet had scheduled the trip to Spain weeks in advance, and the flight from New York to Madrid was made all the more pleasant for a luxury aircraft with a comfortably appointed stateroom and all the amenities a person could want.

Once in Madrid, a few hours of touring and sightseeing had to be cut short as an unseasonable storm rolled in. It drummed heavy pellets of rain on the windows and thunder rumbled overhead.

Janet and Steve had left their phones behind, and her valet had been given strict instructions not to interrupt them even if the world was ending. The hotel conceierge sent up a small army of waitstaff to dote on the two Avengers hand and foot.

Janet pauses in front of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows; the room lights are low, backdropping her shadow against the looming thunderstorm outside. A high-waisted pencil skirt in black is a hairsbreadth for being inappropriate for work, and married to a puffy blouse in jagged slashes of pale cyans, reds, and greys, casually undone nearly to the black-satin banding of her skirt.

Wine's sipped from a glass and she curls it to her shoulder, watching the stormclouds rolling in from the west. Motion at her peripheral vision catches her attention, and she looks to Steve with a smile. "You know, I can't remember the last time I saw weather like this in Spain," she admits. "Mostly the rains stay down in the lowlands."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Have heard it said that the rain in Spain stays mainly on the plains."

This delivered with that singularly-reserved amusement he takes in witticisms as Steve walks over to join his other half by the window. His arm slips about the small of her back to rest his palm at her hip as he casually makes to stand beside her. The line of his thigh and hip touches hers in turn, he in a pair of jeans and that t-shirt becoming such a familiar sight around the mansion: black, fitted, with the gold lettering of WASP across his chest.

The Captain too has a glass of wine and though he doesn't sip it, the translucent sheen of the drink on the inner curve of the glass means he's at least tasted it. "So much for the sightseeing. Maybe tomorrow morning, after the rain's cleared out. A dinner in seems like a wise idea too." He glances down at the fashionista, wearing a small smile. "Never made it out here when I was working with the Howlies." The Howling Commandos. "'s'an amazing place so far."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet turns and looks at Steve with an expression of adoration. It melts into an eyerolling tolerance at his terrible pun; still, there's a quirking of her mouth that belies the rebuke, and she leans into him with a melding of soft curves against his firmer outlines. "There's some amazing old castles in Madrid, and some gorgeous art museums. You see a lot more of the classical masters here than you would in New York, even," she says. "Here in Spain it's mostly Romanesque, the Impressionists never really got the foothold that they did in France," she explains. "You'll see a lot of it after the Hapsburg era, except for Goya, of course, but it didn't originate here. Still, this is the epicenter of Picasso's work," she tells him. "Modernisme in general, like Dali or Miro, too. Why am I telling you this? You've got an art degree, don't you?" Janet says, blinking suddenly. "This probably isn't news, then. Though I guess Picasso was really the talk of the town up until you went under the ice."

Steve Rogers has posed:
A mouthful of his wine is appreciated by the subtle movements of his mouth, all while he listens, eyes upon her face. It brings him to smile, her expounding upon the art scene, though at one point, he does laugh once quietly.

"No art degree, <<Seillean>>, but 'm honored you'd think it. Knew about Picasso back when, yep. More of a fan of Dali, I think. He's got a piece called 'Lobster Telephone' that's...pretty singular," Steve decides as the correct way to explain it. "His paintings make you think, 's'not all straight-forward 'nd true to life. Figure we'll have to stop at an art museum while we're in the city."

Taking a moment to press a kiss to her dark hair, the man then detaches from standing beside her. Always moving, this one, and his steps take him across the room to the balcony attached to their room. He opens one of the doors to first stick his head out, squinting up at the sky. Pulling his head back in, he runs a hand back over his raindrop-spattered hair and then down his face.

"Rain's warm, at least. Tempted to see about maybe going for a run in it, get some of the jet lag out of my legs."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"You are the only person I know who works out on vacation, baby," Janet says, but is still grinning at Steve. "Fine, let's go for a jog," she tells him, and sets her wine glass aside. "We'll look like a couple of lunatics, but we'll at least be looking like it together. Plus we can at least see some of the city. It's pretty out, even if it's overcast," she says, and nods at the skyline. Indeed it's the sort of summer rain that feels fresh and clear, rather than a stultifying spring squall or a freezing falltime drizzle, indecisive about being snow. "How about the Plaza Mayor? I bet it's the only time you'll go there and not see gross pigeons everywhere."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Plaza sounds good to me. Not only will we be together, but less chance of anybody thinking they're gonna interrupt our sight-seeing. Cameras're touchy things in rain showers," the man notes with a quiet smirk. "Lemme change into a pair of shorts 'nd we'll get going. Glad I brought my running shoes." The glass of wine is set aside on a table, sure to be returned to later and the better for having been left to breathe in their absence.

Shortly enough, Steve is by the hotel room's door in a plain white t-shirt and dark jogging pants, taking a moment to stand on one sneakered foot at a time and stretch his thighs. "Ready whenever you are, <<Seillean>>," he says, looking over his shoulder for her.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet possibly brought every item of clothing she owns; the magic of those Pym particles means things like 'luggage' are an issue inasmuch as she can pack in a modest sized box. It takes her just a few minutes to get changed, and she meets Steve downstairs in a sleeveless black-and-yellow sports top that bares her narow waist and midriff, matched to knee-length mesh-and-lycra jogging pants with a yellow stripe down her hip. Even her shoes match, and the only jewelry she wears is a familiar pendant nestled in the hollow of her throat.

"This is a /jog/," she reminds Steve, and shoves him playfully with her fingertips only as he balances. "I'm not racing you across Madrid."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve, with his spare hand, half-heartedly attempts to deflect Janet's pushing at him while he stretches his leg. Little rolls of wrist, shift in momentum, all the while smirking faintly to himself.

"Just a jog," he promises. "Morning's for the long hauls. 'm looking forward to it, you can sleep while 'm out 'nd doing laps. This here's sight-seeing." They probably garner a few looks from hotel staff for stepping out into the shallow cover of the hotel front door's overhang and then out into the falling rain, but at least the intensity of the fall has lessened to something more steady rather than Mother Nature's attempt to slap one in the face with raindrops.

The Captain takes up an easy pace, checking himself to wherever Janet feels comfortable and then sticking there in a metronomic predictability. It's not terribly far to the Plaza Mayor and traffic is lower due to the weather. Steve glances over at his jogging partner. "You were right," he says, voice only barely modulated by their efforts as they approach the broad and open space of the Plaza. "No pigeons."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"I'm not breaking my rule about being seen in public before ten AM," Janet agrees, stubbornly. "You go do you."

She keeps up with Steve comfortably enough; it's perfect running weather, the rain cooling but not freezing, and no wind to batter. By the time they reach the Plaza she's breathing with a controlled and steady exertion, hands on her hips to open her ribs up more. "I've never seen it so quiet," Janet admits, looking around with an amazed expression. "No pigeons, no vendors... no tourists."

She looks around, then grins and pushes her mussy, short hair back from her face with a dashing of sparkling water droplets. "C'mon, there's a bistro nearby that serves good cafe. Let's get an expresso or something, then jog back?" she offers. Fingers curl around Steve's entreatingly and she starts backing towards the cafe with an encouraging tilt of her head.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve too comes to a slowing walk beside Janet, his hands in mirrored positions at his hips. He scans the entire section and nods agreement, taking a moment to pfft the raindrops from his lips. When her hand rises to run through her hair, he's glanced over and a fond smile parts his lips.

"Espresso sounds like a treat, sure," he says as he finishes enacting the braiding of their fingers. Despite the jogging of some distance, he moves with a lanquid comfort beside the Wasp as they walk towards the cafe through the downpour now falling a touch lighter.

"Whose treat then? Left my wallet back at the hotel room." There's an equally charming tilt of his head back. "Only got the keycard in my pocket."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet just blinks at Steve, then gestures at her sleek running suit. It clings to her lines like a second skin, flattering her physique, and water runs in rivulets down lean and firmly defined muscles in her bared stomach. "Do I /look/ like I have room for a credit card?" she asks, finally. "You're the guy, you're supposed to always carry that stuff, because girls never have /pockets/."

A beat passes, and then Janet sighs with fond exasperation and reaches to the small of her back. A fragile looking plastic billfold is pulled from a pocket there. "Thank god you're dating someone with some common sense, at least. You know you're technically supposed to always have your passport on your when you're abroad." Janet extracts an obsidian colored credit card from the little wallet, bops Steve on the nose, and swings her hips around to walk towards the bistro's door.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"<<Seillean>>...'m Captain Steve Rogers, a passport's a bit null after anybody curious about to nose into my business realizes it." He grins regardless, not repentant at all, and follows behind her. After all, the view is nice from behind because, indeed, the running suit in two pieces does fit rather nicely.

Entering the little bistro is warmer than outside, drier and scented heavily of coffee as well as goods baked freshly that day, and Steve lingers by the door given he's got the greater volume of rain-soaked clothing.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet exchanges fast and courteous Spanish with the proprietor; the Bronx inflection is hard to miss compared to his smooth Castillian, but the fellow seems to appreciate the fact she's chattering at him in a native tongue instead of broken English. The credit card is swiped and he hands her two neat shots of dark espresso with steamed milk floating atop them.

She stirs brown sugar into each with a small spoon and walks it over to Steve, handing him one and holding the other for herself. "Not quite what you'd get in Little Cuba, but here's a cortadito," she tells Steve, and sips hers. "Cafe con leche, here. You're /really/ gonna need to learn some Spanish, honey, unless you want me playing translator for you forever." She grins up at him with an unrepentant expression.

Steve Rogers has posed:
The warmth of the espresso shots, admixtured with milk and the brown sugar, is friendly on his fingers as he takes the small cup. Steve considers it before glancing up at his other half, brows lifted.

"Cortadito. Hmm, cafe con leche," he echoes, doing a fairly good job of the pronunciation. Then comes the coy little smile. "<<What makes you think I did not try to learn a little before we got here?>>" The question is, of course, in standard Spanish and its inflection non-native without fail. The Brooklyn accent will always out. Regardless, he then takes a small sip of the espresso shot and makes a noise of appreciation as well as approval.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet probes the inside of her cheek and slooooowly narrows her eyes at Steve. "You are not as cute as you think you are, buster," she finally tells him, and pokes Steve in the chest with an extended index finger, hand curled around her espressor shot. It's sweet and strongly flavoured, and warms the chest from the inside out.

Her own's thrown back after another sip and she puts it aside on a clear spot on the counter.

"Glad you like it, though. Ready to head back? I'd offer to call a car, but I left my cell in the hotel room," she says with a wry tone. "We might be taking this 'disconnect' thing a little too seriously."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"No? I thought it was a wise idea." Steve continues half-smirking, pleased with himself. His cafe con leche is also disappears with an easy tip-back and swallow. Still damp around the edges, it's delightful to feel his innards heat from the shot of coffee. His glass joins the other on the return-spot of the counter. A flick of his tongue against his upper lip is unconscious approval of the drink even as he walks towards the door, glancing over at Janet again.

"Didn't bring mine as well. Intended to jog back anyways, even if I had. Most of the jet lag's gone, just a bit left now. Dunno about taking the disconnect too seriously though. Kind of nice to be able...able to breathe," the man decides as they exit out onto the sidewalk again. The rain has all but abated, its intensity lessened to something more like a mist than drops at all.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"I've literally never been without a cell this long in my life," Janet complains. "I knew how to text before I was in grade school. You can probably get by without it, but I am sure I'm blowing up with people demanding to know where I am. I don't even know how we're gonna find a good discotechque tonight if I can't even text my friends."

Still she catches up with Steve and breaks into a jog, forcing herself to stretch her comparatively shorter legs out to keep up with his casual pace. "I guess I could have told Stan to follow us in a car," she grumbles, finally. "I'm not walking across town in this weather though. We've got dinner at El Jardin in a few hours, so I hope you've got a healthy appetite worked up."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Didn't have enough to eat on the plane over, so the espresso drink'll do it until we get to El Jardin," replies the Captain. After a glance over at Janet, he again checks himself a touch to make it easier for them to remain all but elbow to elbow in their brisk loping travels back towards the hotel. "I'll be sure to take the steaming iron to my pants 'nd shirt after I get out of the shower, get 'em all set for dinner."

Shoes splash in puddles caught in concrete and cobblestone, breaking up the reflection of the sky above with its shredding clouds revealing a sky headed towards sunet. "'nd nobody's walking across town this time. We'll take the car 'nd you can have your phone on you. You're not too bad about being glued to it, 'm grateful for it."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Plane's got a private chef from a Michelin Star restaurant, and you didn't get enough to eat," Janet mutters between gulps of air. "YOu need to embrace living the large life, Steven," Janet tells him, with a significant sideways glance. "I pay a lot of money to my staff so they'll do things like iron clothing and unpack. All of your stuff is probably hanging neatly in the closet and there's an outfit for both of us for dinner tonight."

"And I love my phone. I am a digital native and I embrace it. I just love *you* enough that I don't need it /all/ the time," she teases him, and then puts on a sudden burst of speed to pull ahead of him teasingly. She cuts sideways suddenly through a wending, tight alley, where her smaller frame gives her a little advantage in maneuverability.

Steve Rogers has posed:
It's a quick little burst of speed and the cross-path of her body's diversion has Steve doing an equally swift stutter-step, the better to watch her begin to vanish down the narrow alleyway.

"'s'a good thing you don't need it all of the time, means I must be doing something right," he then laughs, just as impulsive about following her into the narrow space. Yes, that's his torso turned at a bit of an angle to avoid scraping broad shoulders on both sides of the high alley walls, but he's still certain of where his feet land, how his legs can propel him after the petite fashionista, and how the super-serum gives him the reflexes to avoid obstacles.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet gets far enough ahead to break Steve's line of sight, and then she appears atop a ledge, walking quite quickly with both arms out and her eyes focused on the task under her feet. She's nowhere near as physically fit as Steve, but the science that gave her the implants also turned a moderately fit young woman into a very athletic one. She takes four long running steps and then drops down in the street, cutting several seconds off the route Steve's navigating through. Up ahead there's a pealing laugh and the sound of Janet breaking into a mad sprint towards the doors of the hotel.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Oh, you little //sneak//!!!" the Captain says. Echoing laughter from on high and then the street below brings the blond super-soldier around the bend of the rue like a living freight train. His arms pump and sneakers do their best to keep up with //him// on the rain-bright pavement beneath his feet.

Still -- the Wasp played her cards well. She does beat him to the front doors and, frankly, Steve has to slam the brakes on with some care. A little bit of rubber is left behind on the concrete to keep him from bouncing off the doors themselves. "Alright, alright," he puffs, smirking at the Wasp. "This round goes to you."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet's bent over at the hip, arms chicken-winged out and palms pressed into her hipbones. She smile haggardly at Steve when he comes trotting up, and forces herself to straighten. A beaming grin crosses her face at his concession, shoulders rising and falling sharply. The hotel staff politely pretend not to notice anything.

"Something said for being small and sneaky, honey," Janet reminds him. A hand reaches out and fingertips jog up his sternum, and she rests an index finger against the point of his chin and applies a playful sideways pressure. "This way you'll have earned your appetitite for dinner," she promises him, and heads towards the elevator. A bellhop smiles and nods politely, waiting for the two of them to enter before closing the gilded gate and sending the elevator up to the penthouse level.