9052/The Drink's the Thing

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The Drink's the Thing
Date of Scene: 12 December 2021
Location: The Empire Club - Lounge
Synopsis: The Empire Club plays host to a good time for numerous patrons.
Cast of Characters: Dane Whitman, Roland Livingston, Achilles, Oswald Cobblepot, Janet van Dyne, Peggy Carter, Daniel Sousa, Michael Erickson




Dane Whitman has posed:
The Empire Club has a reputation.

Even one who has well and truly been off the map for over a year will have heard of a place that uses historical artifacts as decoration, and such is Dane Whitman. The cultured and well built gentleman of origins vaguely uncertain has found his way here after recently showing up out of the literal blue.

Dane's penetrating gaze sweeps over the club, lighting periodically albeit briefly on objects of note. Ultimately, he isn't here to dance or gawk however. The man in pressed suit and turtleneck is here to enjoy a drink and decent music. So he finds himself a seat in one of the booths, tipping the waiter handsomely to ensure that he gets a seat with breathing room for his peace of mind.

He also promptly orders one of those classic martinis to start himself off right.

Roland Livingston has posed:
Despite belonging to the club it's not usual for Roland Livingston to find his way inside unless there's business to take care of. Today, however, is an exception. The young Englishman is in the mood to relax and do a little drinking, perhaps find some company to chat or smoke a cigar with.

As he enters the lounge area from the outside he scans the interior of establishment for a few seconds before making his way towards one of the padded leather chairs off to the side of things. The waiter is given a polite greeting as Roland orders himself a Scotch and settles into his seat, leaning back and taking one more glance at the other patrons. They'll get nods from the young Englishman as he waits on his drink.

Dane Whitman has posed:
It is entirely possible that someone who doesn't know him for his nom de guerre will still recognize him. Dane is the owner of a transplanted British castle, after all. The somewhat notorious but certainly ancient Castle Garrett. This sets him in a rare echelon of aristocracy.

Dane accepts the drink brought his way and thanks the waiter as he steps away, accepting a menu in departure. Dane mutters to himself,"I know what sort of place this is, but damnit what's wrong with an all American burger..."

A voice that few are likely to see the origin of, and even fewer to recognize, replies from the seat next to him,"What's the matter, nephew? Feeling peckish but crammed in with all the nonsense of theater?"

Dane mutters his reply,"Nate? I don't remember inviting you."

The shade of Nathan Garrett replies,"I got bored and invited myself. You're looking properly bitter."

Achilles has posed:
    History. History means different things to different people. To some, it is all about finding artifacts that give them a feeling of a connection to the past that they cannot possibly have ever experienced.

    To a select very few, such as the name who is currently going by the name of Angelo Tampambulos, it is more amusing to look upon the artifacts, and read the misinterpreted meanings people give them. He's been walking the earth for a few thousand years. He's no Vandal Savage, but he's one of those who has been made immune to the concept of death by external means. One of the world's first 'super soldiers'.... He goes incognito about that unlike some, such as Thor or Herakles... but yeah, he finds himself in an expensive tailored suit of gray so dark it is almost black, along with a beige vest and a crisp white shirt and a tie that is basically gold and black diagonal stripes.

    What? He likes dressing up and looking good. In his hand however, is a glass filled with ice and a clear liquid. It's water. Come on, it's barely noon. But he is examining a sword that is on display, and a faintly amused smirk rests on his face. He knows that the description of the weapon is totally wrong, but if it gives some comfort and happiness to the owner, why dispute it?

Roland Livingston has posed:
As his drink arrives Roland thanks the waiter and takes a sip, nodding his approval immediately afterwards.

Settling in his seat by putting much of his weight on one arm, he looks quite contemplative when he seems to recognize the other chap that just arrived. Just not who the man seems to be talking to is. Rather curious, Livingston gets up from his seat and approaches where Dane is sitting to greet him with a smile, "Good day. I haven't seen you here before and thought I'd introduce myself. My name is Roland Livingston." His accent is as upper class English as it gets. "Might you be the fellow who owns the castle? I've got one back in England, but it's completely in ruins."

That's when he notices Angelo's presence and lifts his glass at the man, "Finding anything interesting? There's always something I seemed to have missed on a prior visit that catches my eye."

Dane Whitman has posed:
Nathan would at first be irked to have been noticed, then amused as he replies,"Seems your misery has drawn company, I'll leave you to it..."

With that, the spectre fades forthwith leaving one very miffed Dane in his wake. The very living gent in the booth clears his throat then and replies,"Good day to you as well, I am indeed. Dane Whitman's the name, care to join? I haven't ordered yet."

He then glances over, following the collective gazes to offer a polite nod in their direction at Angelo.

Oswald Cobblepot has posed:
Oswald Cobblepot has business in a lot of places, and the Gentleman of Crime has managed to secure membership - or at least entry - to a lot of elite clubs - this one through his old aristocratic lineage. He doesn't know about the other business the club conducts - the posh atmosphere is the draw. Leaving his heavy coat with the cloakroom attendant, Oswald wanders in, sans guards for a change, trusting at least enough in the club's security for his purposes.

That he has criminal contacts to meet here goes without saying, otherwise why would he be in New York? They are late, he notes disapprovingly, looking at a pocket watch for a moment before tucking it back into his suit pocket and making for the bar, leaning heavily on his umbrella today.

Achilles has posed:
    Glancing over, Angelo lifts his water glass in greeting as he takes a few steps to get to within convenient conversational range of Roland. "Mister Livingston." he says, his voice retaining just the tiniest hint of an English accent. It sounds a lot like someone who is just on the cusp of losing the accent altogether. "I do enjoy perusing such artifacts. It does the heart good to see them so well preserved." A pause and he adds, "You look like you are prospering." And he doesn't go so far as to address anyone else just yet. After all, he is leaving it to the host to introduce him. The two of them met once... it wasn't that long ago.

    Then again, long ago or not is very subjective to someone who fought in the Trojan War.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
There is a certain vibe to every bar. It can be very overt or very subtle. Sometimes it's the decor or the music but it's just as often the patrons. What their style and sensibility says to the people around them.

The woman who enters the bar has clearly mastered the subtle language of acknowledging the rules while also flaunting them. Her charcoal grey pinstripe suit has the subtle gleam of true silk; the close-fitting trousers look like they're hemmed specifically for the Louboutain stilettos. Her suit jacket reveals an immodest amount of her sternum that veers almost to the point of being licentious. It's hardly 'business appropriate'.

But anyone leaping to that decision probably doesn't recognize one of the youngest billionaires in the world and THE fashionista for the cape crowd. Janet van Dyne sets a black-and-gold designer clutch on the bar and flashes a smile at the bartender. "I'm meeting a client. Did Bill Earstwhile leave a message?"

The bartender shakes his head negative and Janet frowns before digging her phone out. "Boomer probably can't even text," she mutters. "Well I'm not sitting around her sober. Rum and coke," she says, indicating a large volume of the former to a few dollops of the latter.

Looks like there's something interesting going on with the sword over there, and the brooding gentleman with the younger newcomer. So, that's where Janet pops up, moving the social circle's diameter to accomodate her. "What are we looking at?" she queries no one in particular, while giving the sword a critical once-over.

Roland Livingston has posed:
"Certainly, thank you," Roland replies to Dane as he eases himself into the booth. "What are you thinking of eating? I'm partial to nearly everything on the menu, but today is a tossup between bangers and mash and cottage pie. I had French cuisine last night and a bit of a palate refresher is in order."

Looking over towards Angelo, Livingston grins, "I'm doing very well, thank you. And yourself?" A look is given towards the sword and Roland smiles slightly, "I've got a few weapons at my place. Some quite old, but all well maintained and for the most part functional. I've even got a macuahuitl I had crafted for me so I could test it out. That obsidian is incredibly sharp." He stands up for a moment and performs introductions, "Dane Whitman, this is Agent Angelo Tampambulos."

His attention is caught by the gentleman with the umbrella next, "Mr. Cobblepot! Wonderful to see you again. If you've got the time allow me to introduce you to my acquaintances and get you a drink."

Suddenly, Janet van Dyne is there. Roland smiles at the woman and nods his head, "We were just discussing this sword, Ms. It's an older representation of a scimitar, probably dating back to the second crusade. Sometime around eleven fifty. Remarkably well preserved specimen."

Achilles has posed:
    Well, Angelo is certainly not dressed the way one might expect a Special Agent to dress. That's because he is on his own time today. Off the clock, as it were. He doesn't work for SHIELD because he needs the paycheck. He does it for a few reasons... one of which is boredom. But he -does- seem to have a knack for intelligence work after all. And he likes to feel like he is helping people.

    He does however, switch his drink to his left hand and offer the right to Dane in greeting. "Mister Whitman." he says smoothly before hearing the name Cobblepot. His green eyes flicker in that direction, and one brow raises.

    And then... there is Janet. Who could miss Janet? He steps to one side, to make room for the lovely young lady And his other brow raises to join the first higher up on his forehead. "Ma'am." he says politely, lifting his glass in salute.

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane may or may not be the youngest gent in the club at the moment, but he certainly seems to have found himself thus at his booth.

Then Janet is invited over and he arches his brow way up as he sees Mr Cobblepott invited over as well! He vaguely recognizes the crimeboss, but it isn't from any nugshot. He can't place it so he just mentally shrugs and focuses on responding to introductions,"Yes, I was having trouble deciding, I must admit. I'll follow your suggestion."

He then glances back up to Angelo and the approaching Ms Van Dyne, and observes,"Agent? Rather forthright. Pleasure to meet you. And especially you, Janet. It has been quite a while. I think people were still calling me an Avenger back then."

He smiles somewhat rakishly at that last point, it's something of a sore subject but has healed over well with time. Or so he reckons.

Oswald Cobblepot has posed:
The Penguin smiles with something that's a very close approximation to genuine pleasure. "Mr. Livingston, my good man. The pleasure is all mine. I'm in town for business today, but since my associates are yet to arrive, I would be delighted. Gin martini, very dry, stirred." Oswald meets the gazes of the others evenly, leaning on his umbrella and otherwise looking perfectly fashionable, save for his awkward appearance. If he relishes people recognizing him for his former(? - press x to doubt) criminal past, he doesn't let it show.

"Quite the gathering today, you seem quite the popular man."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
The corner of Janet's lips curl a bit in a smile. The touch of makeup is on the light side, just enough to bring forward a few features without slapping on a cake. "Boys and their toys," she says with a theatrically rueful sigh. A waiter brings over her drink on a tray; she accepts it with both hands and carefully steers the cocktail straws over to take a few sips while regarding the sword to see if she, too, can figure out what's so special about it besides being old.

The use of her name snaps her attention and she blinkingly refocuses it on Dane. "Have we met?" she inquires with a solicitous tone. "I guess I'm not making all the roster meetings lately," she remarks. One might find it almost impressive how she can -sound- apologetic-- even contrite-- without actually expressing an apology.

Roland Livingston has posed:
"This is usually a very good place to find fine company," Roland says to Cobblepot with a nod before placing the man's drink order. "You know how to drink a gin martini, sir. I hate when the gin is bruised by shaking it. Save that for vodka."

Then he gestures to the other guys, "Dane Whitman, Angelo Tampambulos, this is Mr. Oswald Cobblepot. Easily my favorite member of Gotham's social elite." He looks at Janet and says, "I know who you are as well, Ms. Roland Livingston at your service. It's truly an honor to be in your presence. Your creativity, skill and bravery make you a force to be reckoned with in every way I can think of."

Dane Whitman has posed:
Hrming at the response, Dane shrugs physically rather than mentally this time to Janet. Que sera, he must have been mistaken. It has been a long year.

The gent in the turtleneck and suit flickers his gaze amongst the growing members of the occasion, for indeed it seems to have become one, and nods to each in turn. He then responds,"Yes, most excellent. I'm very happy to meet you all."

Dane then sips from his martini, settling the delicate seeming glass back atop a napkin before folding his hands before him and inviting,"You're all welcome to my booth. We seem to have coalesced here after all. Mister Livingston seems to hold you in regard, Mister Cobblepott, what exactly is your vocation or preoccupation? If I may be so bold, as Miss van Dyne's certainly precedes her."

Achilles has posed:
    Grinning a bit, Angelo nods his head in greeting to the other newcomers. "Good to see you making friends and influencing people there Roland." he says to the host. "I'd love to see some of your other pieces. I've got a rather keen interest in all items historic. Funny, when I was a child, I hated being told to -learn- history. But now that I pick and choose what to learn, I love history."

    "I guess I was just a stubborn kid. As opposed to the stubborn jerk I grew up to be."

Oswald Cobblepot has posed:
"I have various business concerns in Gotham City, but my primary focus is the Iceberg Lounge, one of the city's finer clubs, if I may 'toot my own horn' a bit." He smiles again, getting his drink and taking a small sip. "It's perhaps a bit more humble than most, but it's a satisfying vocation. Plus I've been looking into throwing more vigorous support behind Mayor March's urban renewal projects - the park in the Narrows he unveiled a few weeks ago was quite... inspirational."

Roland Livingston has posed:
"Well, I plan on having some people over for the upcoming holiday," Roland says to Angelo with a grin. "You lot are all invited, if you'd like to attend. I'm going to bag a deer or a boar and have a proper feast. At least that's my plan." Then he chuckles at Angelo's remark, "I don't know you particularly well, but I don't think of you as a jerk."

Then he touches himself on the chest, "My penthouse is well suited for hosting people, if I say so myself. Nowhere near as nice as the Iceberg Lounge, however. That's my favorite spot in Gotham." With a chuckle he adds, "The lunch menu there is delicious, as well."

Achilles has posed:
    "Worst case scenario, could use my back yard. I man a mean charcoal grill." offers Angelo. "And it's Brooklyn, so the traffic is a lot easier to negotiate."

    "But that would deprive Mister Livingston here of his ability to enjoy being the host."

    He grins then and takes another sip of his drink. His being water. But hey, it could be vodka or something else clear. But he shrugs his shoulders and gestures to the booth. "I don't mind standin'. Especially if the lady wants to sit." Old world values. Chivalry can't die so long as someone who acts that way can't die.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet accepts Dane's invitation with a flash of a vivacious smile. "Well how can I pass up such a civilized offer?" she inquires a little rhetorically. The petite socialite heads towards Dane's booth and waits for someone to lend her a hand to sit down comfortably. Everything about her screams an unshakeable self-assurance in these sort of casual social settings.

"Yeah, Oswald, why don't you tell us all about your current occupations?" she says, tossing the words over her shoulder. "There have been a bunch of, uh, 'ill-considered enterprises'," she tells Dane with a prim tone that somehow can't easily be called 'smug'. "I'm always glad to see another one of the founding families recovering their footing in New England."

The van Dynes might be one of the oldest European families in America, Dutch merchants who had settled a New World and become fantastically wealthy. Even more well entrenched than the more johnny-come-lately Waynes and Cobblepots of the world.

Peggy Carter has posed:
It's been a long time since Peggy and Daniel simply got to go out on the town. That whole he was dead thing for several decades, then work interferes, and then there has been a lot of life catch up. So, when the invitation came and they both ended up free on the day? Peggy insisted they go. She's in a gorgeous gold dress that looks like it was likely designed in the 1940s. It skims along her hourglass frame like a second skin and JUST fits, she looking a little softer these days than she has in the past. But it's an impressive sight. Her hair's curled up in victory rolls and she's in golden T strap heels. She's looking as classic as possible.

And, of course, her arm is laced through that of her husband's as they walk in the room. Old fashioned, clearly in love, she smiles a bit wider as she looks across the place, "Mm... we're going to get a proper dance in this time. I'm putting that new leg of yours to work." She grins to him.

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane is quietly sipping at his martini as he listens to the Penguin give his version of his business interests. He's not up for questioning it, it was an honest curiosity and this is a friendly occasion. No reason to spoil that.

The big man sets his glass aside then and waves for a waiter, he's feeling an old urge. With the smokers around, he wants to join in. Not like it can kill him any more than it would certain of his company, after all. Not like he actually wants to live forever either, so when the waiter arrives he beggars a chocolate cigar and tips the man for a hasty return.

When Janet chimes in then with her own bit of spice, he blinks with amused surprise! That was hardly his intention, but he's still not going to deny the lady her offered seat, consolidating his mild mess and scooting if necessary. Dane replies,"My uncle was old British money, and I'm told we go way back. My modesty is due to my ignorance of exactly how far back..." The Knights of the Round Table, but he's disinclined to drop that card here. "Suffice to say, I'm happy to be a trust fund socialite and erstwhile philanthropist for the time being. I've done some minor engineering projects and offered technical assistance here and there. That's my claim."

He smiles modestly at this, accepting the cigar and accompanying match.

Daniel Sousa has posed:
Daniel is dressed in a classic tux that looks the same vintage as Peggy's gold dress. Like his wife he's smiling broadly and looks at her with undisguised affection.

"Sounds fair, the thing's been gathering dust since the Army ball a few months ago," he says of his new leg. "So right to the floor or we want to pause for a drink first?"

Roland Livingston has posed:
"If I host I can show off my toys," Roland says with a grin at Angelo. "Some of my antique weapons are in great shape. I actually put one of my warhammers to use against a home invader not terribly long ago, in addition to some maces."

Standing up, Roland offers a hand to van Dyne to assist her in taking a seat, "Allow me, Ms. My mother would roll over in her grave if I didn't make the attempt at being a gentleman."

The newcomers to the club are given a polite nod by the young man before he finishes off his glass of Scotch.

When Dane orders a cigar he does so as well, "Romeo and Juliet, please. And refill on my drink."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"...As *tempting* as just dragging you out there is, it's probably polite to say hullo to a few people first. And a drink would be lovely. Maybe I can get someone to make me one of those shirley temple matters..." Then people hopefully won't question why the Chief of SHIELD isn't partaking in alcohol which she generally is quite the whiskey woman. She gives a small nod in the direction of the group that's gathered across the way. "Angelo Tampambulos. He.... fought with us in the war. I don't know if you ever encountered him. A good man. He's with SHIELD now. Janet van Dyne... I've owed her a lunch for far too long. Dane Whiteman, also with SHIELD. I didn't expect that many of us here."

Dane Whitman has posed:
No sooner is Janet invited in, than Dane's watch goes off. The agents present might recognize the ruse. He is being called away.

The man tosses back his martini and grabs his cigar and match before sliding out the other side of the booth to avoid blocking Miss Van Dyne's entrance, then rises to excuse himself thusly,"I must beg pardon, I'm being called away. Please enjoy yourselves, I trust we'll meet again soon. And...do send an invitation my way, if you would be so kind?"

A wink is flashed, then Mr Whitman rounds on heel to make his way.

Achilles has posed:
    Making space for Dane to make his exit, Angelo nods to the man. "Hope to bump into you in the future." he says to the departing descendant of Knights.

    And then he looks back to Janet, and everyone else. But seriously, when the group at the table includes such a young lady, who else draws the eye as much?

    He smiles her way and is about to say something when he hears a voice that is familiar. The fact that Peggy's accent is still present helps. So.. he turns his head and his smile turns to a real grin. "Pardon me a moment." he says to Janet, et al.

    Then he turns to approach the happy couple. "Hey Chief. Let me buy the two of you a round?" he asks as he approaches and waves to the bartender to let him know that Angelo will be covering this round.

Oswald Cobblepot has posed:
There's a little flash of murder in Oswald's eyes as Janet gets smug at him, gone fast enough that it's easy to think it was never there at all. He's gotten much better at self-control in his years of being 'legit,' and, well, she isn't exactly wrong. He tightens his grip on his umbrella for a moment, then relaxing, having another polite sip of his martini.

"Yes," he says after careful reflection to avoid snapping off at van Dyne. "The Cobblepots have been Gothamites for many generations. I can only oversee my humble slice of it - perhaps not so glamorous as I may have intended in my ill-spent youth, but maturity brings self-reflection and a satisfaction in doing what I can." It's terse and diplomatic nothing-talk, perhaps, though in some cobwebby corner of his mind Cobbelpot believes it.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet just smiles back in the face of Oswald's deceptively cool demeanour. There's something a little hard and glittering in her eyes, catching the light like the diamonds dangling from her ears and wrist. New England society is a knife-fight and Janet isn't above fighting dirty. "To self-improvement," she suggests, and lifts her drink at Oswald in a toast that is in no way perceptible as mocking.

Dane and Angelo abruptly excuse themselves, and Janet's blinking confusion is set aside when she recognizes Peggy and Dan entering.

"PEGGY!" Janet raises her voice over the quiet murmur of patrons, with no look of shame, and waves at the spymaster. "I'll be right back, boys, I have to say hi to someone."

She slips out of the table and walks over to Peggy and Dan, skip-stepping the last few strides. Peggy's offered a warmly familiar embrace and a cheek-kiss; Dan the same, and Janet's gracious enough to position herself to lead him into the courtesy without any stumbling.

"What are you two doing here?" she asks of the pair. Her eyes flicker around with a wary surveillance and she drops her voice minutely. "This place isn't the Hellfire Club, but it's not exactly Dave and Buster's," she murmurs. Janet has a talent for speaking quietly even through a photo-ready smile. "You looking for someone?"

Roland Livingston has posed:
"Take care, Mr. Whitman," Roland says to the fellow as he departs. Then he looks towards Oswald, "You seem like a genuinely good fellow, Mr. Cobblepot. Whatever you may have done in the past is in the past."

"Gotham is a hard city in many ways, but the philanthropy of people like yourself makes it easier for the citizens there to get by," the young guy comments. "Would you like a cigar as well? The selection here is fairly good."

Janet is given a nod as she excuses herself, "Certainly. Feel free to invite your friends over as well, we can pull up a chair."

Oswald Cobblepot has posed:
Oswald raises his glass to the toast, but is relieved when Janet's attention is turned elsewhere. Roland, at least, gets a pleasant smile. "I endeavor to rise above past shortcomings to a brighter tomorrow," he says cheerily. "Gotham is not without its many problems, but slowly we'll find a course that will bring our city back into prominence and the days of rampant crime and masked vigilantes will be a thing of the past."

He mulls over the idea of a cigar, but defers with a polite wave. "A temptation, to be certain, but perhaps for later. I still have business to attend soon and I dare not aggravate the congestion that comes with the season for me." He seems disappointed not to indulge, clearing his throat with a slight 'weh'.

Daniel Sousa has posed:
"Fair enough," Daniel smiles to Peggy taking in the crowd as she names names. "Did we walk into an op?" he whispers before first Angelo and then Janet come to greet them. "Angelo, good to see you again," he says with a smile. "And a scotch would be great."

As for Janet, Daniel worked Hollywood in the 40's he's used to that sort of greeting and takes it well. "Good to see you Janet," he says before nodding at the quiet whisper turning so only his group can hear him. "Got invites, came for a night out, we walk into something?"

Peggy Carter has posed:
It's like Peggy summoned them. She knew they wouldn't get straight to the dance floor, too many familiar faces about. She gives Dane a little wave as the man ducks out but isn't going to draw attention to his suddenly needing to go. "Angelo, it's lovely to see you again, though I will admit my husband has tabs on the first dance with me." Peggy winks to him, some old, happy memories behind her eyes of previous times on a dance floor. "No op this time, though. Just a fun day out... I think. I hope." She levels eyes between him and Janet, now a touch suspicious. Especially as Dane just disappeared. "Oh, a drink would be lovely but...Just a ginger ale for me. Perhaps with a touch of cherry juice in it." Now people will probably think it's definitely an op, if the boss isn't drinking.

And then she's leaning over to kiss Janet's cheek warmly. "I was just telling Daniel I've owed you lunch for a long, long time. It's good to see you and...honestly? We just wanted an afternoon out. I finally have my husband back, properly, and for good. Why shouldn't I enjoy taking this man out on the town and showing him off a bit?" Peggy states with a wide grin, looking back to Daniel for a moment with a gaze on her face that is utterly, completely in love. They have the sort of love that is out of story books, even for the sometimes stony, very British Director of SHIELD. No one has seen her this happy before, when he was still gone and dead. It's like a fire has been resparked in her.

Roland Livingston has posed:
"Should you come to my holiday festivities I'll have a few good sticks in the humidor for you," Roland says to Oswald with a smile. He then tends to his own cigar, pulling a V-cut cigar cutter from his pocket and quickly snipping into the end of his smoke. The cutter goes back into his pocket before he produces a torch, holding the cigar to his lips and taking a few seconds to light it properly. As he exhales some smoke he orients his face away from everyone else even though the room's fans do a great deal to take care of the smoke. "I don't smoke often, but I enjoy it when I do. It's no good for the lungs, after all, though it's quite relaxing."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Op?" Janet looks back and forth between Dan and Peggy, and when the brunette confirms they are OFF duty, Janet beams approvingly and claps her hands. "You two are -adorable-," she informs the pair. "Like right out of a noir book. I wanna drape you both in old-school pinstripes and some wide fedoras. And machine guns! Bonny and Clyde."

She makes an abortive sound, both index fingers rising and laying parallel to each other just in front of her face. She looks left, looks right, then shakes her head and drops her hands. "Nope, I take it back, I've got dibs on that for the next costume party."

"Uh--" she snaps her fingers at the bartender, a little imperiously. "Their drinks are on my tab," she tells him. "Don't serve him anything that can't legally drive itself."

There's a momentary pause as Janet makes eye contact with Peggy. A rather substantial dialogue is exchanged with little more than a subtle flickering of facial muscles. It ends with Janet smiling, but she keeps her words to herself. "C'mon, come sit," she tells the two of them. "Have a drink, some food, whatever. That's, uh, Roland," she says, pointing. "And... Oswald Cobblepot, with him."

She looks back at Peggy and Dan with a Perfectly Polite smile pasted in place.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    It was 1983 when Michael came to the Empire Club for the first time, serving as a bodyguard detail for a particular French politico with a penchent for exploration. Had not yet shaken his country's colonial past, you see. Terrible man -- but the destination is lovely, and so Michael comes here from time to time yet still. And so here he is, manifesting in the doorway without a word, swallowed in top coat and scarf and flat cap as if having just teleported in from the Soviet-era East. Balalaikas and whatnot in the background.

    He enters and heads for the bar, choosing a spot that he prefers; though he doesn't come here often, he's managed to choose a suitable favorite spot at the alcoholic's altar. Except there's Peggy and her husband, which was not...expected. So he redirects his course to the far end, angling to go be a productive citizen downlane.

Achilles has posed:
    Giving the stink-eye to Daniel, Angelo holds that for just a moment before he grins and offers a hand, "Oh I would not -dream- of trying to usurp his claim on a dance. I just wanted to do the honors for a drink. But.. I -do- get a dance at some point I hope." he tells Peggy and Daniel.

    But then he grins as he turns to regard Roland. "Allow me to introduce our host. Daniel and Peggy Carter-Sousa, this is Roland Livingston. If you know him already then forgive me for stating the obviously known already."

Oswald Cobblepot has posed:
The Penguin smiles broadly. "So good to see such a good turnout today." He turns to Roland with regret. "It appears I must curtail this social call, however, my associates have arrived and we have some business to conduct. It has been very good seeing you, my lad, and I hope to see more of you soon."

Roland Livingston has posed:
Roland takes a break from puffing on his cigar to stand when he hears his name spoken. He turns and waves in a friendly manner and asks, "How do you do?"

He lifts his glass and takes a drink, a sort of little salute before he offers over his right hand for shaking, "I'm quite glad to meet you. This gentleman here is Mr. Oswald Cobblepot." He introduces his acquaintance in turn, smiling as he does do. "I see you've got drinks already. After I finish my cigar I'll be ordering lunch. If you're hungry there's no need to wait on me, though."

Turning back to Oswald he frowns, then says, "It was wonderful to see you again, Mr. Cobblepot. Feel free to reach out to me any time you're in New York. Good luck with your meeting."

Peggy Carter has posed:
That subtle little look from Janet gets a slightest warmer smile from Peggy and a slight dip of her head, but that's all that's said about that matter. The women can talk later, maybe over that lunch that the Chief owes her. Accepting the ginger ale with her free hand, Peggy gives Daniel's arm a gentle squeeze before finally letting go so she can stretch a hand towards Roland, "Mr. Livingston, it's a pleasure. Chief Peggy Carter, SHIELD. We very much appreciated the invite." Even if she's fairly certain it only came so some people could do a little information gathering on just who was running SHIELD these days. And if it's really the same woman who was running it fifty years ago. She certainly appears to be, if anyone knows their history. And the man next to her? The very same man from the founding of SHIELD as well. Time is a strange thing.

"And, of course, Angelo. I'll never turn down a dance with you. I'm just quite enjoying having my husband back and with a new leg which is *incredibly* capable of dancing. Among other things." She flashes Daniel a wider grin. Gosh, it's like watching your parents flirt! "And thank you, Janet. I don't have too many excuses to get the evening gowns out nowadays. You clearly need to invite us to more parties." Peggy grins to the woman, though her head tilts a bit more curiously at that incredibly polite smile. Pegyg watches Oswald go, then looks from Janet back to Roland, her dark eyes slightly narrowing in curiosity. She does settle in at the table, with the invitation, though steals a kiss to Daniel's cheek as he gets called away on a cell phone. "...I swear, if they pull him back to the office I might strangle one of my own people." She mutters. Teasing.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet's bristling eases when Oswald excuses himself, and the vexatious Wasp can relax her socialite demeanour slightly. Once introductions are made she slips back into the booth across from Peg so Dan can reclaim his seat when he returns.

"Yeah I wanted to talk to you and Fury about that," Janet tells Peggy. "We need to start confiscating phones from these boys. Or turn them off, like OFF-off. Steve had to leave just as we got to a show. I had box seats at the Met. It was that Cirque du Soleil show, with the water and stuff. It was so sold out that they tried to sell -my- box seats. I told the ticket manager I was going to throw a tantrum right in the middle of the stage if he did. And then I had to sit through the whole thing by myself!"

She unclasps her JVD-brand clutch and digs a cigarette out. Roland is conveniently nearby with a lighter; she lifts her chin to get his attention and makes the request for help with a polite little motion of her hand.

Daniel Sousa has posed:
Daniel steps away from the group for just a few moments talking quickly rubbing his temple as he speaks before he hangs up and pockets the phone coming back to Peggy's side. "Really beginning to think these cellphone things were a bad idea, it was bad enough when they had to call the desk to find us," he says. "So, what'd I miss?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    And /why/ does he like this place? Why does he go here? Michael wonders that only for a moment as he waits for the bartender to go down his way, because he knows the reason well enough. His father's study was something like this, in character if not in decorative details -- the nexus of aventure in the little palace his family called home, paneling of rich red veta'kaal, the ancient banners of past victories hung there. The Sarjanic League, the Principalities of B'gaal-Ahgra. Places his family helped conquer. For a moment his fingertips twitch at the memory ot tracing the scorch marks of the fabric as he would walk around the room. His father would be at the desk, of course. Or drinking himself, one of a milion potential liqueurs from a million potential worlds. The luxury of imperialism.

    But here, at least, the imperialism is just an echo, and when he orders scotch now as the bartender comes and asks for his order, he know it isn't coming from some benighted, conquered world. Just Scotland, which will self-liberate any year now and was never really conquered anyway. Michael takes his hat off, setting it on the bar, and waits for the drink to come.

Roland Livingston has posed:
Taking Carter's hand, Roland gives it a firm shake, "The pleasure is all mine, Chief Carter. If your organization ever needs a scholar of the arcane, especially historical use of magic and the study of various artifacts, feel free to reach out. I've been studying the mystical world my whole life, though I'm not a practitioner."

When Janet needs a light Roland is prepared, using his torch to ignite her cigarette. Then he returns to his own cigar, puffing it enough to make sure it's properly ignited.

Looking at Daniel he says, "I'm Roland Livingston. Pleased to meet you, sir. Cell phones stealing people away seems to be the topic of discussion at the moment." There's a grin, "I grew up with them, so I'm used to be available to anyone at any time. I, however, usually have the luxury of ignoring the thing. Unless the police need me to consult or something. That sort of thing can't wait."

Peggy Carter has posed:
A little groan escapes Peggy's lips as Janet says she wants to talk to Fury. She already is curious about what this headache might be. She gives Janet a rather pointed look, but then she winces gently, giving a slight shake of her head, "You know... neither of them would really give it up. They both want to help save their world... in their own ways. It'd be a fight with Steve, if there were things out there he could do to help and he didn't make it. He's already trying too damn hard to make up for lost time..." Peggy knows the man. She's still best friends with the man, even if there is concern knitted across her brow about how much he's working.

As Daniel returns, the world seems to work in parallel. However there is a pleasant surprise across her features as he admits he's starting to dislike the cellphones. "I mean... you aren't Chief right now, dear. You *could* turn your phone off. I just can't turn off mine... " A quietly apologetic smile crosses her lips. They haven't quite fought about it yet, but every time he's tried to convince her to put down that chain back to work, she's not been willing.

Roland gets a more interested look as he admits that. Her head tilts, "You know...I don't suppose you've ever considered going into service? SHIELD has a magical division that could use more experienced people, in fact... You'd have access to allies and information unparalleled around the world." She pauses a moment to look around, "Though... considering this place and your status, I suspect you don't needi t."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet leans over to accept Roland's assistance and nods thanks at him. She takes two drags off her cigarette, holding the smoke in. She looks at Peggy and startles at some thought. "Oh shit," she apologizes, and exhales a lungful of smoke directly at the slow-moving intake vents overhead.

"Hey I'm all for Steve saving the world," she objects. "Just not on date night. I /hate/ going to shows by myself." She stubs out the cigarette in an ashtray and crumbles it down into a little wadded pile of unburnt tobacco and paper.

She looks at Dan and Peggy both, eyes narrowing to slits. "I think the problem is that both of you are in on it," she tells them, and wiggles a finger around. "The Bat-Signal goes up and you guys are having arguments about whose turn it is to stay home and who gets to go do cool-guy stuff. You do know it's legal to have a -life-, right?" she inquires of them with a high, good humor. "You are allowed to go have fun once in a while. I think it's in the Constitution."

Daniel Sousa has posed:
"Good to meet you Mr. Livingston," he greets their host smiling as Peggy makes a recruitment pitch to the man. "It is definitely an adventure," he agrees before nodding about the phones. "I know I can turn mine off, I just forgot this time, but seriously I'm considering dumping both of our phones in the Hudson," he jokes with a smirk for Peggy. "But seriously, Peggy's right, even if I did turn off my phone I'd be powering it up every five minutes to make sure I didn't miss some emergency." A smile then. "A life?" he asks Jan and then looks to Peggy his smile becoming a grin. "What's that?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    But of course, it's all memory. And Michael downs the scotch as his phone buzzes, whatever message displayed upon its surface getting his attention. Rising, he pulls his flat cap back on, tucking the phone in his pocket, and moves to take his leave. Driven away from the comfort of yesterday, focus returned to today.

Roland Livingston has posed:
"I have no objection to consulting for SHIELD, Chief," Roland says to Peggy with a smile. "I like helping out /and/ showing off my encyclopedic knowledge of the arcane." There's a pause, then, "I could certainly make use of more information and contacts, as well. It's hard to have too many friends." With a chuckle he adds, "I'm also trying to do more good for people. Been working and donating at Hope House and other shelters. Giving some more time to keeping the world safe, aside from the monster hunting I already do, might be nice."

When van Dyne puts out her cigarette Roland looks at her for a moment, then sets his own smoke down in an ash tray on the nearest unoccupied table. His eyes scan the others with him as he takes a drink of his Scotch.

Peggy Carter has posed:
While Peggy never asked, there is a small trace of relief on her features as the smoke disappears from the table. She gives them both a slightly apologetic smile, "...you'd think I'd be used to the stuff after the fifties and sixties. People had hourly cigarettes at their desk and it was considered the most productive way to work! But I just never managed to enjoy the things after the war... if it wasn't a stolen cigarette off the back of a convoy, it... Never felt the same." Peggy admits with a little chuckle, the momentary nostalgia on her features a strange admission that there is a part of her that still *misses* the war. Even all these years later. "But noted, Mr. Livingston. Here... when we *aren't* on a social date afternoon, you will have to come to my office and we'll speak work longer." Peggy reaches into her little clutch purse that had been over her shoulder and pulls out a card, sliding it across the table. She really is always prepared to work.

Then Daniel is getting a smirk as he asks what a life is, "A life? It's what we pledged to SHIELD when we started this whole mess 70 years ago. We just happened to pledge it to each other as well, but we both knew what we were getting into. Still... we might manage a life outside all this work yet." She squeezes his hand below the table.

Then she's looking back to Janet, giving the woman an accusing little glare. "Oh, Miss *Wasp*, deep down you rather enjoy saving the world and doing what is right as well. I know your secret. If you didn't, Steve wouldn't be in love with you. You just need to keep up appearances of being rich and careless or people will think your heart is too soft."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet laughs merrily at Peggy's observation, and shakes her head at the couple in utter bemusement. "Careful Roland," she bids the man. "I'm pretty sure these two are in cahoots on some scheme to steal everyone's weekends and hide them somewhere."

"I'm not gonna pretend I'm some noble paragon of self-sacrifice," Janet corrects Peggy. "I'd say it's more..." Janet toys unconsciously with the patriotic little pendant at the hollow of her throat. It's nowhere near as fine as the rest of her jewelry, but clearly worn much more frequently. "More that I've got that New England upbringing to 'aid the public trust'," she quips. "And it just so happens I get to beat the shit out of bad guys and be super famous for it," she adds. "Don't forget the merchandising. Tony's not the only one who knows what brand awareness it."

She grins impudently and takes a long sip of her rum and coke. "Steve just loves me because he's a hopeless romantic with a secret thing for party girls."

Daniel Sousa has posed:
"And smoking lost it's allure when I found out they stopped making Lucky Strikes," Daniel quips with a smile. "All that time getting me hooked on the things in the army and they're not waiting for me in the 21st Century."

Daniel laughs taking a sip of his scotch. "A thing for party girls huh?" he asks with a smirk sent Peggy's way though the question is aimed at Janet. "Oh, do tell."

Roland Livingston has posed:
Taking Peggy's card Roland gives it a glance before sliding it into a jacket pocket. When his hand comes out he's holding three cards of his own. Fancy metal ones with his name, an email address and a phone number. Each is offered out, "You three are welcome to reach out to me. So far you've been interesting company. I'm going to throw a party for the holidays some time soon, so make sure I can get you invitations."

"Anyway, who would like something to eat? I suggest we put in our orders and perhaps take a spin on the dance floor. I'm not much of a dancer, though I can rock back and forth with the best of them if anyone is in need of a partner."

He looks at Janet and chuckles, "I'll be very wary of them. I'd hate to stop having to live a life of leisure. Though, from what I know of spies, and I learned from James Bond so I'm certain it's accurate, is it's a life of vodka martinis, Aston Martins and beautiful women with only the constant threat of violence as a drawback." He pauses for a moment, "I wonder if it's legal to install some less lethal accessories in my Bentayga."

Peggy Carter has posed:
Peggy's dark eyes drop to the charm around Janet's neck, head tilting a little. She gives the woman a long, thoughtful look. "...We really do have to catch up over lunch," is the only commentary in response, though. "And no, you aren't all self-sacrifice. We could all probably do with learning a BIT more from you. And enjoying a show the whole way through, now and then." Then she's giving her husband a little bit of a glare as she sees him staring questioningly at Janet, "Oh, his penchant for party girls was far after our little tryst, I promise. I was nothing but proper, straight and narrow my whole time at the SSR!" She insists a little too firmly. The lady is protesting too much, by far.

Then she looks back to Roland, "Oh hell, yes, food would be...wise. Ah... steak? We're out fancy, let's have steak. Unless you recommend something else?" She will wait for his recommendation, before waving down the waiter to put in whatever Roland does tell her is best here. She trusts the experts. "And then a dance, yes. Forgive us if we show off a bit. Making up for more than a few lost years."

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Oh Peg," Janet says with a dejected droop of her shoulders. "If only you and I had gone to the same boarding school. I'd have absolutely ruined your reputation. It would have been a -ton- of fun."

Peggy's glance cues Janet to her unconscious behavior and she lets the pendant drop from her fingertips to rest against her bare sternum. "I'm just saying, if you want like, a, uh..." she searches for the word. "'Paragon' of good behavior, talk to Diana," she suggests. "Her and Steve in the same room is a feedback loop of good behavior." She looks to Dan. "C'mon Dan, back me up on this," she urges him. "It's way more fun to fight bad guys during the week if there's a *rager* of a party on the weekend. You gotta blow of some steam!"

The waiter looks to Janet and she glances once at him. "Two ounces of the ossetra," she requests. "And a plate of those truffle chocolates," she adds.

Janet shifts in place, crossing and recrossing her legs. "I don't think they're gonna play my music here," she tells Roland with a wry expression. "Steve's kinda taught me how to do the, um, swing dance, but I just look terrible next to--" she flickers a hand at the Carter-Sousas. "They tore it up at the military ball."

Daniel Sousa has posed:
"Of course," Daniel smirks to his wife with a wry chckle, "Certainly how it was in the war," he tells Jan about fighting bad guys and partying hard. "But I'm not twenty-four anymore, I turn one-oh-two in February," ignoring that he skipped about oh...65 years or so of that. "But a little fun now and again never hurts," yep, he's a bit of a nerd our Daniel. "Just want to not reget it the following week of getting bad guys."

As for the dancing? He smiles. "We promise if we'll go easy if you want to get out on the floor and swing a wing, there Jan."

Roland Livingston has posed:
"A steak sounds quite fine, actually," Roland says to Peggy with a smile. "They do know how to cook them here." He looks between the members of the married couple, grin still in place on his face, "You're more than welcome to show me up any time you'd like. At least on the dance floor." There's a cheerful wink.

When Livingston looks at Janet he shrugs his shoulders, "There's no sense staying off the dance floor just because you're not good at dancing. It's meant to be fun, after all, and if you look a little absurd..." He chuckles, "It's just more memorable that way." He glances around and then says, "They play waltzes in here sometimes, if I remember correctly. I can teach the box step in a matter of moments if you want to surprise your paramour next time he takes you out."

Peggy Carter has posed:
A husky, warm laugh escapes Peggy's lips as she hears her husband's defense of having fun now and then. "Despite Daniel's occasionally stiff shirt, he *does* rather know how to cut loose when I encourage him. Maybe I am a bad influence." Peggy winks at him, grinning wide. And she *does* order the steak without apology or shame. She is a woman who knows how to enjoy her food, especially if she's not enjoying her whiskey.

"Well, you both are welcome to join us, though I suspect Janet is one of those who, if she can't be perfect at it, isn't going to tackle the matter at all. It's alright. I promise you we won't stare." Peggy teases her friend, perhaps knowing that sort of dismissing challenge is more likely to get Janet up to prove herself. But Peggy isn't going to be held back any longer.

Food now ordered, she nods for Daniel to scoot out of the booth and smoothly follows him, "Come on, handsome. Let's show these kids how we used to do it." Peggy slips her hand into his, confidently walking to the dance floor but letting him take the lead the moment later. She doesn't follow in many things, but in dancing, she is excellent at listening to the lead of his body. They really do dance well. Even better than the military ball -- apparently they've had some time to practice on Daniel's new leg between now and then.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"I didn't say I am a bad dancer, I said I'm not as good as Steve," Janet says with a tone of mild indignation. She gets to her feet and rests her fists on her waist, one hip cocked out with her weight over that foot. "If this place was playing salsa music, I could burn the dance floor down."

She looks at Roland with a raised brow and tilts her shoulders to the dance floor. "You coming, hero?" she inquires with a lilting amusement.

Daniel Sousa has posed:
Daniel follows Peggy to the floor calling back to Janet. "Big words, come show us what you've got," he says getting into the teasing before his eyes fix on Peggy as he takes the lead in their dance. After a few steps Daniels finds himself falling easily into the same easy space they occupied as mission partners, each reading the other and reacting accordingly with the same measure of success.