3386/Life is a ball

Life is a ball
Date of Scene:	16 September 2020
Location:	Metropolitan Museum of Art
Synopsis:	Champaign showers and Egyptian wishes at the Met during a charity ball
Cast of Characters:	Marc Spector, Heather Danielson, Slips

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Marc Spector has posed:
The Met is having one of its famed charity balls, full of glitz, glamor, and outrageous dresses that belong more on the set of some futuristic movie than actually worn out in public.

What charity this event is for doesn't matter to Steven Grant. He doesn't care if this is for the whales, dogs, cats, or to save the last remaining dung beetle of some unknown South American country. No, what matters to Steven, or perhaps Khonshu, is where the event is being held...the Egyptian wing of the Met and the priceless treasures that it holds.

Having already arrived, the multi-millionaire is dressed in a bespoke tux, white in color with an alabaster shirt and black tie with matching shoes. He carries with him a glass of some liquid, champagne perhaps, as he studies one of the statues of one of the old old Egyptian gods, the canine-headed Anubis.

Heather Danielson has posed:
    New York Metropolitan Museum of Art. What a mouthful. There is a reason most locals just call it the Met. Today finds Heather Danielson, member of the Titans based out of Metropolis, and one of the young woman whose name has become synonymous with the term 'supermodel' of late. I mean sure, every few months you have that list of names change but.. it's difficult to get off of that list when you manifest super powers on a photoshoot and have it live-streamed on facebook.
    Yeah, so here she is, made up with extra kohl about the eyes, a bit more blush than usual. All in an effot to restrain the nordic blondeness that is her birthright. She even has a black wig on showing straight locks down to just above the shoulder. She's not trying to be Cleopatra, but she -is- thematic for the event. Her top is a simple linen thing that fastens at the neck and curls under the arms and thus leaves the shoulders bared, along with what is basically a front and back flap skirt that is more of an exaggerated loincloth with gold thread embroidery. But she is schmoozing for the whole charity work, here representing a Make-A-Wish group. Four young girls that she has been spending the evening with, catering to, and generally entertaining as well as introducing around to the hob-knobbers of New York Society.
    So it is that she gets a small break. It's not that she doesn't like the kids. She just needs a moment to grab a water and catch her breath. So she finds herself taking a glass of punch since.. she is not legally allowed to drink being almost nineteen yaers old herself. But she approaches the Anubis statue by utter coincidence right about the same time as the rich philanthropist. "Egypt always had interesting iconography, yes?" she asks.

Marc Spector has posed:
Steven glances over towards the voice, breaking him out of whatever thoughts he was having about the god of death. Quickly plastering on a smile he turns to address the young lady, "Of course. While you can find more unique descriptions of some of the other pantheons of gods of different cultures, not many that I am aware of use the animal-headed avatars you see in Egypt. But, if it wasn't for the Egyptians and there iconography, specifically their hieroglyphs where would be today?

Heather Danielson has posed:
    "Well, I am no expert on ancient religions. But I will say that every ancient culture contributed to what we are today. Some more, some less, but without any one of them, who we are would be vastly different." She grins and shrugs, "At least that is what Ms. Dennigan, my old mythology teacher told me once. It always made sense tome. It's like if I was missing one finger, my whole body -would- be different.... maybe not noticeably at first, but different."
    She takes a breath, then a sip of her drink and gestures about the place. "You know, asking the next question I had in mind might sound like a pickup line. So don't get upset when I ask... do you come to these events often?"

Marc Spector has posed:
Steven chuckles, glancing back to the statue of Anubis for a moment before turning his body, and attention, fully towards Heather, "Well, maybe I have that backwards. I think it was the Rosetta stone that allowed us to translate the hieroglyphs, and not the other way around. I'm not a scholar myself, so forgive me if I have my facts messed up."

The philanthropist lifts one of his shoulders up into a shrug, "Why would I get upset? I mean I am obviously out of your league dur to age alone, but otherwise it would be flattering if that were the case." He chuckles, looking around at the growing crowd. "Only when I have to. Since I donated a few pieces of my collection here, I figured I should make an appearance. Truth be told, I don't even rightly know which charity this gala is for..."

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Chuckling softly, Heather shakes her head. She finishes the glass of punch and uses the empty glass to gesture to the statue. "So neither of us are experts or scholars but... I always thought that Anubis here got a bad rap in modern day. Everyone thinks that a 'Death God'..." Yes, she makes finger quotes, "Is automatically evil and bad. But the Egyptians were never on board with the whole.. Death is bad and the end of things angle were they?" she asks. "In fact, I think Anubis was the guardian of the dead wasn't he? It was his job to make sure that the dead were protected." A pause before she grins, "My family is all Swedish, so most folks now-a-days don't realize that the old Norse gods embraced death too. Odin himself was a god of death."
    But then she registers your comment about age and leagues, and she wrinkles up her nose as she smiles, "Well, I did have one man's wife call me a Mid-Life Crisis on feet once.." she offers as she shakes her head, "Not that there was anything inappropriate going on. But that was just one hell of a nickname to halfway earn."
    And then she laughs and shrugs, "Well, the Met holds galas for a variety of charities. Tonight I think it is the St Jude's Cancer Research foundation. I only say that because I brought some Make-A-Wish kids tonight myself."
    And then she smiles, "There they are.. over there. The four girls posing for pictures in front of the Ben Stiller T-Rex."

Marc Spector has posed:
"Impressive," Steven says with a smile, offering over a salute with his raised glass. "You are correct, Anubis isn't evil at all. I mean, not unless your heart weighs more than the feather of Ma'at. I mean, being devoured by Ammit probably isn't everyone first choice in the afterlife and I could see having that sentence passed onto you as someone thinking it might be evil, but that wouldn't be Anubis's fault. He just does the weighing."

Steven laughs at the 'mid-life-crisis' line, taking a sip from his glass. "I've been called worse. She just saw you as a threat, so take that as you will. Some could turn that into a form of backhanded complement if they chose."

He glances over towards where the four girls are, "Oh, are you here as their chaperone?"

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Smirking, Heather shrugs, "Oh, I took it as a compliment. It just sucked because my friend is far too good for her. But he loves the hell out of that woman, god only knows why." she remarks with a shrug.
    But she looks towards the girls and smiles, "Something like that. Technically, -we- all have a chaperone. That's the woman taking the pictures. I have just been visiting those girls for a few months, and wanted to get them out and about and they wanted to do dress up for a charity gala... and here we are. Do I look the part at all?" she asks with a gesture at her faux-Egyptian garb.

Marc Spector has posed:
Steven ahs and nods, "Well, your friend is lucky to have someone on his side should things go south. Who knows why we end up loving who we end up loving, it's all a mystery to me."

Draining the last of the liquid in his glass Steven looks around for a server with a tray to place the empty on. Not finding one he shrugs and dangles the glass between his fingers by the base. "I see. Did you do the outfits yourself? They are very well done! I would say as far as accurate representation of the period, they are as close to any I have seen around tonight thus far, but I don't think most of the people were looking for accuracy. Have you seen some of the things people around here are wearing?"

"Almost as an after thought, Steven holds out his hand, "Steven Grant by the way. How rude of me not to have introduced myself earlier."

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Snickering, Heather shrugs her bared shoulders as she also hands off her empty glass to the same server. "Well, I do -some- of the outfit stuff myself. The Titans have a whole army of consultants for a lot of stuff. I think they retain an entire PR firm."
    But she shakes her head and turns to face you once more, "I told them I wanted something Egyptian themed that suited me, and this is what they came up with. I have to be careful walking though.." she says with a smirk.
    "Heather Danielson." she adds with a small giggle before reaching to accept the hand. Then she grimaces and adds, "I am contractually obligated to add that my Titans Moniker is Knockout."

Marc Spector has posed:
"Oh?! You are one of those superhero types? I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you," Steven says apologetically as he shakes her hand gently before releasing it. "Brave that you feel free to use your real name in public. A pleasure to meet you, Heather. Aren't there rules about that kind of thing?"

Steven, for lack of something to do with his hands now that they are empty places them into the pockets of his tuxedo pants. "I've always wondered what it must be like to be one of those. Is it as exciting as I imagine it would be?"

The comment about having to be careful while walking gets a smirk in reply, "Stairs are going to be your worst enemy here tonight, and for the love of the gods whatever you do, don't trip. The cameras will not be forgiving."

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Rolling her eyes yet maintaining a grin, Heather shrugs, "Well, I can wish that maintaining a secret identity were possible, but..." she smirks a bit, "When your emergence with powers was live-streamed worldwide while you were doing a bathing suit photo shoot... it is a bit difficult to put that particular genie back into the bottle. So I figure... if you can't beat'em, embrace it, right?" she asks as she broadcasts a beaming smile.
    "And one of whats? Metahumans or models?" she asks as her grin changes to a rather sardonic one. "Either way, the Titans have welcomed and embraced me and made it easy for me to live both lives. My family is protected as best they can be, and here I am."
    Glancing down at her *ahem* loincloth, Heather shrugs, "Well, it's not as if I didn't plan ahead. I will say that all that would be revealed were I to stumble would be something more modest than most bathing suits I've modeled. But you may assume that I have had my fair share of experience being in front of the camera."

Marc Spector has posed:
"Superhero," Steven offers with a chuckle. "I don't think I could ever pass as a model, even on my best days. Not that I can pass as a hero either, but at least that one wouldn't be as much of a stretch."

"The millionaire nods, rocking back and forth on his heels as a way to expend the extra energy he would normally be using his hands to do, "Well, that's good at least," he says with a bit of a flush coming to his face. "I've seen some unfortunate wardrobe malfunctions at these things before, and the paparazzi just goes after that like...insert some metaphor here that I am not smart enough to come up with on the spot."

"I'm glad that you are able to live your life as normally as you can. I've always wondered what that must be like. So, as I mentioned I am ashamed to say I have no idea who you are. What is it that you do, exactly? I mean, hero wise. I get that you are a model. Knckout you said your name was? I can draw conclusions but I would prefer not to just assume."

Heather Danielson has posed:
    "See, that's just it. Everyone assumes you have to be flawless to be a model. The truth is... all it takes is the right outlook and attitude." offers Heather with a smile. "That is not to say you are ugly. You... I'm just puttin' my whole foot there in my mouth, aren't I?" she asks, her midwest accent showing as she rolls her eyes at herself.
    "Anyway, yeah. I work very hard to avoid such malfunctions. And a part of that is planning ahead and not wearing anything that could easily explode or whatnot. As for my ... hero stuff."
    She shakes her head, "I kinda hit the super power lottery I think. I heal faster than I can usually be hurt. And the worst part of that is.. it doesn't -not- hurt. But I got shot four times in the chest on my photo shoot, and stood up like four seconds later, healed. And apparently the super healing lets me push my muscles harder because I can lift several tons now. But that's it. I heal and I'm strong."

Slips has posed:
So close, so close.  A tray floats past Arya, the persona Slips has leaned back most since she's arrived in the area.  The young woman is wearing a green number, nothing veering outside of the dress code.  Lured by the champagne, her hand follows it through the air as she reaches, leaning, snagging her prize, and abruptly being knocked off her center of gravity...

'Oh fucks,' she thinks, because one fuck isn't enough.  Heels.  She'll get over her Bambi legs soon right?  A familiar face rushes toward her as she loses control over her champagne in a turn.  WHAM!  Her heel hits the floor without snapping somehow and she sticks the troubled landing.  Hands shoot up triumphantly...and reflexively as she looks back over her shoulder a beat later to spot what carnage is in her wake.

Marc Spector has posed:
"So, which is it? I'm ugly or I am not ugly?" Steven grins, joking around with Heather. "I might be able to find some chocolate sauce around here for that foot. Might taste a bit better."

Steven is about to continue to talk to the young woman when somewhere in the back of Steven Grant's mind, Marc Spector acknowledges the flying flute of champagne. A brief subconscious conversation occurs where the outcome is inevitable, yeah the Moon Knight could very easily deflect the glass from him, but Steven Grant wouldn't. A sigh escapes Steven's lips just before the inevitable happens and the glass of champagne hits his chest, spilling its contents all down his front before falling to the floor and shattering.

Heather Danielson has posed:
    "I do like chocolate." mutters Heather as her cheeks flush a bit. But she shakes her head and looks back towards the T-Rex to see the girls still enjoying themselves. Of course, it is as she is looking that way, that the Champocalypse happens. She hears the scuffle and whirls to face the oncoming attacker.
    That is when she realizes it's not an attacker so much as a spill. She rushes forward and holds up her hands towards Slips. "Are you okay?!" she exclaims.

Slips has posed:
It's hard to care about her victim when Ari is whirled upon.  She wobbles again after listing to the side a little, but that was hardly noticeable right?  "Great, yeah."  She flushes from the sudden spike of adrenaline.  "Where did my champagne go?"  She asks cavalierly as she plucks another one from a passing waiter who slows down for her this time, then taps him on the shoulder for a second one.  The difference in an attack from a blindspot or head on can make, right?

Arya glances Heather up and down, looking for damage to the woman's outfit.  Then she leeeeans to spot the man she doused.  "There's my victim.  I'll join you two."  She offers Heather a warm grin and slips past her.

"I'm supposed to be on my best behavior tonight and I've been banished from ordering beer.  Sorry about that."  Ari offers one of the glasses to the older gentleman.

Marc Spector has posed:
Just staring down at the now wet shirt and jacket, Steven look over to Arya with a sigh and shake of his head. Shrugging a shoulder, he takes the offered flute of champagne and lifts it to his lips, "It could be worse. It could have been red wine. At least this shouldn't stain."

Using his hand, the millionaire attempts to wipe off the front of his shirt to the best of his ability, which only leaves the now almost see through material clinging wetly to his chest. At least it was me you got, and not her..." he says as he motions to Heather, "I had just gotten through with a conversation about her and wardrobe malfunctions. At least the paparazzi couldn't give two shits about me in wet clothes."

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Snorting, Heather shrugs, "Yeah, it would have sucked to have been proven wrong about being prepared. Though... I -am- wearing a minimal bra so..." she shrugs then with a small grimace on her face.
    But then she tries to take the conversation a different route. "First time in heels that high?" she asks Arya. Then she offers a hand, "My name is Heather. And this is apparently Soaked Steven." she offers along with that hand.

Slips has posed:
"Yeah, dodged a bullet," Ari says in a softened tone as Heather rejoins them, following up with, "I'd offer you my gown but you're not my size."  By now the reactions, looks, and residual mumblings of the witnesses has died down.  Arya's gaze drifts slightly.

"Oh.  Um.  No.  It's just been a really long time.  I've been able to get away with it."  Arya glances to Steven and turns.  "Heather and met, but who did I baptize in the name of France?  That's where this is from right?"  She takes a sip as if she might be able to tell.

Marc Spector has posed:
"Yes, France," nods Steven as he brushes his now damp hand on a dry spot on his jacket. It's already wet, so what is a little more going to do to it? "Though my French friend would probably find some objection to it. Anyway I am Steven. Steven Grant." he offers as he places his hand out. "I would say it was a pleasure, but..." he grins with a wink. "Just kidding. No harm, no foul."

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Apparently, ehr joke fell flat, and Heather chuckles at her own humor since nobody else will. "Well, could have been worse for sure. Maybe you should stick to dry goods for the time being?" she asks, trying to get a smile out of Arya.
    "And maybe you could share your name with us? Just so we don't start calling you the Champagne girl y'know."

Slips has posed:
"I win," Arya declares quietly enough.  "it's impossible to please the French anyways, right?"  It's rhetorical, but said as if automatically making anyone or no one complicit in her words.  Probably more the former.  Arya noticeably hesitates with a flash of a grin before shaking Steven's hand, a shake without reserve or respect for feminine propriety.

Arya's gaze darts to Heather with a smirk.  "Touche.  I guess it's cereal and bread and muffins for me.  So all bread," she concludes.  "Champagne Girl does have a nice ring to it.  Rescues the bored and helpless with waves of bubbly booze?"  A beat, a sip, a grin.  "Arya Joshi."