511/Be Certain It's a Good Fit

Be Certain It's a Good Fit
Date of Scene:	14 March 2020
Location:	Avengers Mansion - Empty Room
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Janet van Dyne, Steve Rogers

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Janet van Dyne has posed:
After a couple incidents with Steve wrecking very serviceable suits, Janet had come to an inescapable conclusion-- the man simply couldn't be trusted to wear a typical jacket. Which is why she'd contacted her atellier and given him some very specific instructions, and specific fabrics, to be used for Steve's latest garment. Salving the artistic ego of Dominic Salvo had cost her a lot of time (and no small amount of money) but in the end, a mutually satisfying decision had been reached.

"You know, maybe there's a market for this sort of thing," Janet muses. She sits crosslegged on her bed with a gentleman's jacket across her lap, and speaks around a mouthful of pins with little effort. A hand-sized surger is running with a steady *clickclack* in her fingers to drive reinforced threads through the fabric. At first glance one might mistake the liner for silk but it has a certain rigidity to it that no natural fiber would bear. The fashionista looks like she's fresh from the office, still wearing a one-piece white dress with no sleeves and a pencil skirt. Gold jewelry matches a linked belt around her waist and the hot pink stilettos near the door are the power accent for the two-pattern outfit.

The measuring tape's removed from her neck and she compares the seams to some notes with a critical expression, then turns the jacket right-side out and offers it up to Steve. "Here, see how that drapes now," she suggests to him.

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Might be." The model for the suit -- rather, the owner of it given its order and specifications in his name -- stands off to one side, arms loosely folded, and watches the deft, delicate motions of Janet's surger. Steve already sports the pants and the dress-shirt meant to be worn beneath the jacket under work. The suit-vest fits beautifully over his broad chest and wide shoulders, a starker contrast against its lighter backdrop of the shirt.

When offered the jacket, the Captain is careful to shrug his arms into the sleeves and tug it into place on his frame. He turns to walk over to the room's mirror and buttons it up appropriately before rolling his shoulders to settle the lines of the suit into place. Then, with a rather grand spread of arms and hands (no, not jazz-hands), he turns and dimples at the Wasp.

"Well? What do you think, Shortcakes? How do I look?"

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet pushes herself off the bed with a flash of bare legs and nudges over a little rolling footstool so she isn't reaching over her head to work on the jacket. Her expression is a critical frown, that of an artiste examining her work.

"Quit fidgeting," she tells Steve, and swats at his hands. "It hangs like a set of Victorian drapes," she concludes with a sour expression. "But you've got the frame to pull off a double-breasted jacket, so it could be worse. I'm sure it wouldn't fit at all with a two-button."

Hands wriggle inside the jacket and tug on trusses built into the garment to help balance it on Steve's shoulders. The buttons are re-fastened, his tie adjusted, and then just for good measure she fusses over his collar a little habitually. Only then does she wheel back and give her handiwork another appraising examination.

"Okay, that's better," she concedes, finally. "I mean, to the extent I can do anything with body armor, I think that looks pretty good. Right?" She steers him to the tri-fold mirror in the corner so she can fiddle with the rest of the outfit. "Reinforced gussets behind the arms, the buttons are attached with flex cord, and the sleeves have a generous cut. Stab-proof vest, ballistic inserts in the jacket, and with kevlar shorts, you could wear this into a police shootout," she says. Admittedly, Janet does sound a little proud of her work.

"Not that you're going to do that, right? Ruin your incrediby expensive, hand-made suit?" she presses.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Quiet chuckles bubble up from Steve's chest as he holds his hands firstly off to his sides palms-out, akin to a stick-up, and then down along his hips to let Janet align the fabric correctly upon his frame. When he's shuffled properly before the tri-fold mirror, he remains still pliable if upright by stance, the better to allow fiddling.

"I think it looks great," he manages between the Wasps's thoughts. Eyebrows lift at the laundry list of protective, durable materials listed in its make. He takes a moment to extend his arms out and rotate a few times at the wrist, roll his shoulders again, and then he turns to give Janet another charming grin.

"Nobody's gonna think about coming after me, <<seillean>>, so if it ends up in another scuffle, it's because I was defending someone else. Remember? Every time, it's been somebody trying something idiotic at a gala. Can't stand back if I see something bad going down. 'sides, you think about the PR if I make it out of a fight with this suit only a little scuffed. Orders'll go through the roof once they hear who made it," he notes with a lift of brows.