857/Lighting a Spark

Lighting a Spark
Date of Scene:	30 March 2020
Location:	The Wick
Synopsis:	Happy drinks. Or a drink overdue.
Cast of Characters:	Jane Foster, Blake Riviere, Vision

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Jane Foster has posed:
It's a rare night when Jane lacks an existing appointment to schedule around. She instead takes her way from the Hayden Planetarium where she holds court among the stars to the nearest watering hole where it's unlikely anyone will start pulling out their phone to take a photograph of the celebrity in their midst. Science-geek celebrity at that, but it still gets in the way of scrolling through a journal on her phone and nursing a drink.

She really needs a better night life when this counts as the evening's excitement. Shrugging her way into the Wick, its dim interior swallows up the colours around her well enough. Almost gives a sense of a dive without the sticky floor and questionably clean glasses. "Glass of wine. Red, make it a malbec," she offers once claiming a stool at the bar not far from the titanic candle mass. Might be a nice diversion, but she looks off wearily with a faint smile over the other guests. Her gaze doesn't rest anywhere too long. The phone is palmed, stuffed in her coat pocket.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Blake had been many things in her long existence...but Science geek didn't really fall into that list. Instead, the 'young' woman had headed out to find a drink of her own and her path had taken her deeper into New York and the walls of the 'Wick'. All the candle-wax and flickering light? It brings a slight quirk of amusement to her painted lips as she pushes through the doorway and into the dimly lit space. Even in a place like this, one couldn't spend every night looking completely like Morticia Addams, instead Blake had gone for a slightly more modern look.

Wrapped in the embrace of a leather jacket that deliberately hung open over what looked to be a corset of more 'fashion' than function, the woman's leather pants and calf-high boots still didn't have her looking particularly 'normal', but then normal was probably a little overdone anyway. Absently adjusting one of the ties that held her hair in place, her path drew her towards the bar itself and inevitably, Jane's side as she orders her drink.

"Nice taste," she comments lightly, giving a little flick of a grin as she wait her own turn to be served.

Jane Foster has posed:
The occasional beep or illumination of a well-behaved phone doesn't interrupt Jane much as she shrugs out of her coat. A tug on the belt frees up the trench, a few saucer buttons wiggled free to ease the garment off her shoulders. She folds it over and leaves it on her lap rather than hanging from a purse hook, not that it would offer much by way of support. For safety's sake, considering her order, she plucks up one of the bar napkins in anticipation of a haphazard drop of Argentinian wine dripping on the fabric where it would most definitely show. Not by candlelight, maybe, but in the pitiless glare of commuting on the subway? Right, not fit for consumption by the hungry masses. The Wick has a suitably subdued vibe bordering on intimate, one satisfyingly low key enough to build up a buzz or a conversation without harsh interruption.

All well and good, but she turns sideways to catch the different discussions and assess perhaps how one socializes. Sticking her head out from her work and finding alone time is rare, and it's almost a startling matter when the woman in the leather pants -- who actually looks like they belong there, not as a costume -- speaks up.

"Wearing a coat on a rainy day or red wine?" she asks, her accent mildly besmirched by a West Coast lilt. Definitely not a New Yawwwker. It's a familiar voice from many a program, podcast, and more. "The list on that chalkboard looks half a mile long." She pulls her knees in, making it easier for Blake to pass.

Blake Riviere has posed:
"Both I suppose?" the woman comments, still offering a small smile out of the corner of her mouth as her frame leans forward and arms come together, leaning to brace herself against the very edge of the counter. Blake's accent? It was decidedly lacking in those 'New York' notes, in fact? It carried the tone of a more classical 'Queen's English' about it. A tourist perhaps? Or maybe the accent had simply lingered for yet another resident?

Her own jacket remains in place, but the woman who'd intruded on Jane's solitary time doesn't quite move on yet. Instead, perhaps frustratingly so, she seems intent on lingering a little longer. The bartender comes, her own request is a little more...plain than one might expect. "Berry Cider," she requests, "something with strawberry if you have it."

With that, her gaze flicks back to the scientific celebrity, but there's no recognition in her gaze as she shrugs her shoulders. "Perhaps they want people to be spoilt for choice...or it's a challenge for the more dedicated drunks, to see how much they are willing to try?" The vampiress shrugs, letting her head tilt to the side as her gaze flicks over the other woman. "Just wandered in?"

Jane Foster has posed:
"Not something I should argue then, wisely." Jane concedes the point without a trace of a stumble there, giving a lacing of a smile to soften up the statement. Her ankles cross lightly while she straightens her back, adopting something a little more proper for her posture. Not the sort ever to slouch exactly, but she doesn't care to look like an indolent louche out for an early drink when happy hour started a long while earlier. When the bartender comes by to deliver the glass on a paper coaster, she nods to him and slips over a credit card plucked out to begin a tab. A clean, easy transaction as familiar as factoring twenty percent tips, probably.

"A berry cider, a good choice there too. This seems the place where they might actually have a proper lambic." Something to consider later, since she has her own beverage to worry about already. The swirl of the liquid releases its bouquet, a scent of the earthier terroir and dark, jammy essence. Something truly lovely enough. "I could only imagine. Establishing cachet through the depth of their cellar? It seemed an intriguing place to try. Better, I grant you, than half the places strung along Fifth Avenue where you pay a mortgage for the privilege of a stool."

Blake Riviere has posed:
Jane's comments and explainations? They only serve to earn a small little chuckle from the dark-haired woman in black, another shrug of her shoulders as she watches the woman from behind the rim of her glass. "You're probably right," she muses, "But honestly? I just had a taste for something on the sweeter side tonight."

The drink was just that, sweet and satisfying enough. As much as anything that wasn't blood could really hope to be anyway. Still resting her elbow against the counter in perhaps the only hint of 'uncouth' that she might present (and entirely likely doing it for the very reason and thrill that she could), Blake finally lowers her glass to offer a lazy gesture of her free hand to herself.

"I'm Blake," she offers quite simply in introducation, "and I know what you mean. It was eye-catching and different enough to make me curious."

Jane Foster has posed:
The long sweep of the bar at the Wick hosts a pair of women who couldn't look more different if they tried. Blake stylish and forward in fashion with her leather pants and artful corset; Jane with a trenchcoat over her tailored jeans and a slim sweater, still required for the dampness that spring brings. They both have drinks, either in hand or on the way, and there share a certain unity. One happens to be wine, the other a brighter cider fizzing with promise of berries in the sweetened finish.

The astrophysicist can hide from any TVs here, but less a few smartphones. One of them most definitely is pointed in her direction, and she lifts her head fast enough to catch the patron unabashedly taking a picture. Cue a smile briefly plastered on, and a lift of her shoulder. "Hey, I'm out to hide among the gruff New York masses. You want a quote after we're done? I can oblige. But how about you leave the phone facedown and talk to your buddy, unless you belly up here?" she offers. In no way does that guy sitting in the booth look like he's ready to come out, sinking back.

"Sorry," she apologizes to Blake in earnest. "Jane. A pleasure to meet you, Blake. Feel free to tell anyone staring to look elsewhere."

Vision has posed:
A tall, slim man with dirty blond hair steps into the Wick. He tugs on quickly on the lapels of his jacket to shed a bit rain. Vision looks around the room quickly, registering a few faces and one in particular that sparks his curiousity. He hangs his jacket then walks over to the bar, wearing a light blue collared shirt and dark slacks.

Vision catches Jane's remarks to the bar patron and walks towards the bar. He sits beside Jane, just perfectly positioned to frustrate new attempts to take her picture.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" he asks the two ladies as he sits. "Forgive me, I don't mean to intrude," he adds, in his soft-spoken, accented way, and seems sincere. "I see you have enough of that."

Blake Riviere has posed:
The would-be photographer? That draws a glance from Blake, even a slight twitch at the interuption. The mark of a temper maybe, she'd had been enjoying the conversation so far however brief it had been, or maybe it was the subconcious edges of a more basic desire. If she were 'hunting' for a further drink, drawing attention away from herself was exactly the distraction that she didn't want! And yet...Jane wasn't exactly unable to fend for herself. It actually brings a blink from the woman, but it's quickly replaced by a smile shrouded behind her drink.

"Somehow I think you have that handled," she muses, tilting her head to the side. "It's a pleasure to meet you Jane. Seems you draw quite the eye for reasons beyond the obvious. Is there something I'm missing?"

She'd say more, but the approach of the newcomer has her blinking once more, the woman in black looking over her shoulder and seeming to consider for a moment. There's a tilt of her head and a light inhale of a scent, but she glances back towards Jane with a smirk. "I think that's your decision," she asks of the woman who'd sought solitude and was now stuck in the middle of two other people.

Jane Foster has posed:
Jane, on the other hand, behaves so blithely about intercepting the public it speaks very much to her persona before the general masses. Considering all things, she at least needs no bodyguards or an entourage to fend off interested people. Being high profile is very different for her than, say, Steve Rogers; a Hollywood starlet; or a mobbed Kpop band. In part it could be the differences of age and sticking it with the pointy end when pushed. She lifts the glass to her lips and recovers that shimmering hint of a malbec to quench her palate. Possibly to remember the people out there she courts to build an understanding of science can't be told to sod off at the earliest opportunity.

"I am not the one in an ensemble that would make Sarah over in the McQueen workroom drool or have an apopleptic fit," she notes to Blake, the wry little smile lifted. Her brown hair is reduced to a dizzyingly dark mahogany fall down her back, pulled into the loosest of braids. The glass is hastily returned to its coaster when Vision inserts himself into the range of the photographer-insta-starkbooker, and that's not overlooked. "Oh, pardon us. Not at all, please." A swift nod welcomes him to the stool. "Party of three, good company." Putting her wrist down produces an unearthly clunk; metal, not flesh. Pushing the bracelet back is almost habit. "I am Jane." A glance to Blake lets the beauty in black make her own introductions. "Foster. Astrophysicist, which puts me out there on social media enough."

Vision has posed:
"Victor Shade," Vision replies with a polite smile for Jane and Blake. "Pleased to meet you both."

There is something odd enough about the man's demeanour that it takes a moment to place, and perhaps does not register consciously at all. It is the complete lack of the 'male gaze'. There is a polite curiousity and warmth in the man, but nothing of the awareness that he is sitting and speaking with two truly striking women. "Astrophysicist? That is impressive, especially these days," he says. "As impressive as your sense of style," Vision compliments Blake, but again without any of the... Advance. "I'm just a climate activist, I'm afraid. But I promise I won't preach."

Blake Riviere has posed:
A soft 'Ahhh' of understanding, Blake's glass is lowered as she listens to Jane's explaination, another little smile of some thought or fondness shaping her light-glossed lips. "Wonderful, interuptions aside, that people are actually paying attention to such things these days. It was really only recently that most science was written of as 'dry' and 'boring' by most people, now they're actively seeking to be seen with an Astrophysicist socially." A beat, she chuckles softly. "Lucky me."

Vision's complement? It brings a shrug from the 'young' woman, a gesture to herself with her free hand. "Wearing something you enjoy wearing is kind of the point, isn't it? One likes to be seen and leave an impression too certainly...but it's good to like that impression." Talk of careers, fields and specialties seems to have kept silence from Blake so far, but then the answer tended to shift depending on time and place.

Jane Foster has posed:
"I spend my days among climatologists and meteorologists of the astro, geo, and paleo varieties." Jane raises her hands in a yielding gesture to Victor, then, her lips tilted higher still in a warm smile. "You will have no protest from me, Mr. Shade. Though I bow to my company's preferences about venturing deep into any topic." Her hair strays a little from its braid in a cascade of wisps, something requiring a definite effort to control and she tucks another dark segment behind her pierced ear.

Perhaps something registers but she lets that slide apart. "Science became the hot thing when certain attractive people -- myself not included here -- started parading around any screen, and the public got to see how those fun toys worked." Or, you know, the invasion of New York a few years back.

"It still doesn't win free drinks." She chuckles softly and adjusts her position a little, the better to speak with both of them. She glances askance at her female companion again, and taps her wine. "Like a drink, get what you enjoy best and question anyone who doubts you for selecting it. Rather all about personal tastes, isn't it?"

Vision has posed:
Vision smiles and quietly orders whiskey while the ladies speak. He nods in agreement with Blake and shifts slightly to turn to into the conversation. "I suppose it is," Vision agrees with Jane. "The joy is in the variety. It would be much less interesting if we were all the same. I'm new to New York, actually and looking forward to something different. I have always heard it's a city like no other. Have you both lived here long?"

Blake Riviere has posed:
Living here long? That might almost have made Blake laugh, it it weren't for the fact that she'd developed a little more of a 'poker face' over a couple of centuries. She leaves the question answered with little more than a shrug of her cloaked shoulders. Perhaps one might simply guess a negative from the clear 'Queen's English' of her accent.

Instead, her focus remains on the words of her female company and she lifts a hand, a sharp 'click' of her fingers punctuating her words. "-Exactly-," she nods to Jane, "why be miserable to make a stranger happy? It's not a loved one, not family, just another person who'd prefer to cast judgement that tends to pout or protest."

Back to the topic of science and its disappointing lack of free drinks? She leans lightly forward to the bartender to try and catch his gaze. "Another round then, for my educated company. My treat..."

Jane Foster has posed:
"About..." Jane has to stop and do the math. "Longer than I thought. Almost eight years, now? New York has a way of getting into your veins and making you feel like a native. Soon you will be wandering the streets and unhappy about the tourists who gawk at the buildings or think Times Square is a unique experience." She has a West Coast lilt to her words, squaring her up strictly in the Pacific Northwest to those who can hear it. Nothing of the received pronunciation there, not entirely. Though there are influences thanks to the heaps of settlers originating from the British Isles, and probably for her too, given that surname. There's no cloaked sound there otherwise to pick up, though her phone protests. "We all get to be impatient with a bit of time," she assures Vision. "But it's a splendid place. Diverse, always something going on. Do you like it so far?"

Her nod to Blake proves emphatic. "Oh, I like you. I was going to offer, so mine is next." She hasn't put down the wine in whole. "A difference between choosing something as a compromise or collaboration. Obviously wearing an offensive shirt with an unbecoming slogan in public goes beyond, but deciding you are happiest in heels dizzyingly high is not harmful. We get wrapped up too much in worrying about what other people think, and not always in a healthy way. Kids thinking they'll be bullied because they sound too smart, or someone afraid to stand out for fear of rejection when embracing that choice really makes them happy."

Vision has posed:
Vision listens and watches the two women intently. He smiles his thanks for the offer of a drink to Blake. His glass moves to his hand, the counter, held in both hands while he listens. He just shakes his head slightly at the bartender when she looks to him. He has still not finished his first drink. The chord struck between the two women catches his attention and he looks to Blake with a hint of expectation and curiousity, taking in the little expressions and details of the two talking.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Another drink, Blake has one at her hand to replace her drained cider and she brings the cold glass up to her cheek with a sigh while she listens to the words of the other woman explaining the city. Perhaps she hadn't quite managed to absorb the nature of the city to the same degree, or that she had once spoke of a certain city in Europe with likeminded excitement and passion.

The complementing praise from Jane has Blake chuckling, glancing sidewards towards Vision and then reaching up to lightly brush at one of the deep red ribbons securing her black hair. "Absolutely. Perhaps aside from the most prudish of prude, I very much doubt I'm horrifying people for wearing leather."

Jane Foster has posed:
The wine glass of malbec is sure enough refilled, since the bartender is invited to bring along another. She drinks so slowly that Jane rests in little danger of being purely intoxicated, but of the three, it's the most likely to settle upon her. Her conversational skills weave Vision back in as often as he might prefer, guiding matters where she can to sweep him up. Looping her fingertips lightly around the stem of the glass gives a rhythmic pattern.

"You can be surprised in this city. I saw someone the other day wearing one of those white beaked masks you see in Venice, the plague-doctor types." She shakes her head. "Trust me, the wonders never cease."

Vision has posed:
Vision's attention is caught briefly by Blake's ribbon but returns to the conversation quickly.

"With plague-doctors wandering around, leather wouldn't draw much attention," Vision agrees with a smile.

"New York has seen just about everything. A very different feel from London," Vision says and looks in Blake's direction. "Everything seems so new and busy... I must sound like a tourist. I suppose I am still," he adds with a chuckle. "What do you like the most about the city?" Vision asks Blake and Jane.

Blake Riviere has posed:
What did she like? Blake actually gives a little giggle despite herself. The first signs of intoxication at a glance perhaps, but in truth it was more a humorous twist on her words. "The people," she murmers, shrugging her shoulders and glancing with a nod towards Jane. "It's such a mix, variety of peoples who tend to offer all sorts of insights and experiences...and yes, some interesting wardrobe choices too. But who am I to comment?"

Back to her drink, she gives an exhaled breath and sighs softly. "It makes for some interesting nights after all..."

Jane Foster has posed:
Truly, it's a city of miracles and oddities. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. Jane sips her wine and puts it about. "It rather is different from London. Hard to believe the core of the City is only about a square kilometer, give or take. Square mile? I never remember, but inside the dragons you can find the whole history of empire and kingdom, whereas a square mile here... a dozen kingdoms, it seems." She muses on it with affection. Clearly familiar with the City o' London and its neighbourhoods, to the point she can converse, she sits back. "You must miss it to some degree, being away."

Her conversation slips back to let Blake answer, and she listens with avid interest between Vision and the dark-clad woman. "Hard for me to beat that answer. Yes." A brilliant, beaming smile. "Excellent food choices, a melting pot of ideas. Nothing stagnates."

Vision has posed:
"I haven't been away long enough to miss home yet. I flew in just yesterday, but I'm glad I have so much to look forward to," Vision says and smiles, the first actually animated expression of the conversation. "I hope to meet a lot more interesting people. Though I'm not sure how many more astrophysicists and ex-pats I will run into,"

Vision glances over his shoulder and sees the table behind him is unoccupied now. "Thank you both, I enjoyed talking with you," he says when he turns back to Blake and Jane. He stands.

"Get home safe," Vision says with a smile before collecting his coat and making his way out.

Blake Riviere has posed:
"Absolutely," Blake muses, "there's always fantastic food somewhere if you go looking for it!" Certainly, the dark-haired girl gives another subtle smirk despite herself. Even vampires couldn't quite resist a little double-meaning now and then. With Vision departing, the girl turns her gaze back towards Jane yet again and tilting her head while she sips at her drink.

"So Jane," she finally addresses the woman with her name while she lifts her drink to her lips. "Given how much you're fending off admiring fans, I'm suprised you're alone wandering into a bar. Am I taking up someone's seat here and now?" An 'innocent' question, but well...some things were useful to know!

Jane Foster has posed:
"Kind gentleman, isn't he?" Jane states with a merriment to her features, lips turned up in a smile. Seeing Vision off, there cannot be too much regret for farewells of fine people. But whether paths cross again remains an unknown element for so many, especially when they go to bars. Someone met one day may never enter into your daily routine, or they might end up being married to you in four years. New York's no different than Boston, Tokyo, Bangalore or more than way. Drink up and smile, the world hands out an interesting fortune now and then. Her credit card received from the bartender, she tucks it away while Blake speaks, the scientist totally unbothered by that.

"Fending off fans? This is nothing. Now calling them out as trolls on Twitter, that is another story altogether." The crook of a smile deepens, woeful. "You are taking up no one's seat. Welcome to the party." What a life to lead. "Though it is getting late. Considering I start up at 7 bright and early tomorrow."

Blake Riviere has posed:
"Certainly so," Blake muses, giving a little laugh. "Odd fellow, but certainly polite enough." The vampiress muses, turning her attention back towards Jane while they exchange words over drinks. For Blake, the dim light and pleasent conversation was exactly that; pleasent. She enjoyied the conversation, she enjoyied the company and the exchange with intellectuals...but there was more to it of course.

An attractive woman certainly, but there was also the beat of a heart on the edge of her senses, the scent of blood...it was like having a delicious meal held under your nose. But well...instinct is not overwhelming just yet.

"Glad to be here," she muses softly, smirking a little and then shrugging her shoulders. "An early start?" Blake blinks. "Best to make the most of of the time then, if it is so limited..."