973/Down-Home Double Date

Down-Home Double Date
Date of Scene:	04 April 2020
Location:	Lafayette's Beau Cherie
Synopsis:	All is not well in the state of Lafayette's Beau Cherie. Emma and Janet, accompanied by Alex and Steve, find this out the hard way and finally -- FINALLY -- someone silences the singing animatronic gator.
Cast of Characters:	Emma Frost, Alex Summers, Steve Rogers, Janet van Dyne

---

Emma Frost has posed:
New places to eat in New York are often crowded with people trying to be the first to get the scoop on the upcoming happenings. Lafayette's Beau Cherie has only been open a couple of months, but the buzz in the city has been real.

The problem with buzz is you can't always believe it.

Dressed in a classic short-skirted a-line dress with a sweetheart cut bodice, in white, of course, and strappy white cork-bottomed high chunky heels, Emma Frost and her date wait outside the establishment for their companions for the evening. Of course, there's a reservation for four once they all step inside-- do you think Emma or Janet are savages?-- but Emma hasn't done so yet. That's probably for the best.

Alex Summers has posed:
    Given that it's date night, and, well, he wants to at least not completely embarrass himself, Alex has made an effort to dress up, wearing khaki slacks and a button up blue shirt with short sleeves under a light sportscoat in darker blue. No tie, though....he will only go so far! And it's a bit warm so the top button of his shirt is undone. He's hardly a fashion plate in that regard, but it's comfortable and looks good enough.

    In his opinion, anyway.

    "So you've never been to this place?" he says curiously. "Has yoru friend and her date?" I'm not huge with Cajun food...I mean, I like it, just don't have it much."

Steve Rogers has posed:
There were stirrings of a double date. Steve, at first, was oblivious, likely off attending on the daily doings around the mansion or keeping a healthy eye on the SHIELD interest in the HYDRA agents involved weeks back in a fellow Avenger's presidental run.

Then there was confirmation of a double date, which had Steve looking up from his dinner with a momentary strand of spaghetti hanging from his lips. "Oh, sure, sounds like a good time," he'd said, trusting in Janet to field the majority of the social necessities of getting the whole line figured out. After all, that was her long-standing forte.

Now, having been dropped off by their called-in car, a thing sleek and black that purred as it arrived and purred as it disappears into traffic, Steve offers the fashionista his arm in truly gentlemanly fashion. His blazer is a deep navy-blue almost black overtop an ice-white dress-shirt with pearl-pale buttons. Black slacks and dress shoes provide an appropriate contrast. His hair is tamed and face facely shaved. A smile hovers about his lips as he glances from her and towards the front, where he can see two people standing. He lifts his other hand in greeting as he walks, murmuring to her, "Those must be the other folks, right?"

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet emerges from the vehicle with a hand on Steve's forearm for balance. It's possible her outfit once started out as a suit; if anyone would go for that shade of electric pink with blue and purple plaiding. With the trouser hems cut off above mid-thigh and the sleeves shortened to her elbow, it is more a sop to design at this point than being something eminently practical for office wear. A midriff-baring support top with aspirations of being an actual garment is worn under the unbuttoned jacket. Rose gold accessories glitter at her wrist and ears, along with a pendant at the hollow of her throat with a familiar patriotic motif.

"Emma Frost and her boyfriend," Janet says, speaking with a socialite's smile and almost no movement of her lips. "She's a dear, we've known each other since we were sixteen."

Designer black stilettos pump Janet's height up to where she can look up at Steve's eyes without craning her neck, and she rests her handbag in her left hand where it slips around Steve's bicep. "She can be a little prickly until she knows you, though."

"Emma, darling," Janet coos, and slips over to offer a hug and cheek-kiss to the white-clad woman. "You look stunning," she says. Once they break she reaches back and slips her hand around Steve's arm. "Emma Frost, this is Steve Rogers," she introduces. "Steve, this is Emma." A bright smile fixes on her lips and she gives Alex a patient expression, waiting for the formalities of introductions.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma returns Janet's embrace and cheek-kiss, then looks her friend over. "Simply marvelous, as usual," the blonde woman says with a grin. "I'm jealous." She leans a little bit on Alex, offering her hand to Steve to shake. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Rogers. Janet, this is my boyfriend, Alex Summers." She glances back to Alex. "And this is Janet Van Dyne, one of my oldest friends. We've known each other since we were teens. She is, of course, also a member of the club."

Alex Summers has posed:
    Alex restrains himself from doing a doubletake at the fashion that Janet graces the group with, other than a brief blink as the two embrace and air kiss. He nods to Steve in greeting as this going on, of course, his brow furrowing slightly. Something familiar...hmm, it'll come to him, maybe he's seen him at pub over at the Hellfire Club. Lots of high society types going in and out there.

    When his name is brought up, there's that faint twitch. Huh. Well, lots of people probably...have that name...? Though Steve is getting a more searching look. Not that this stops him from offering his hand in a friendly shake. "Hey, nice to meet you Steve. And you Janet. I haven't run into a whole lot of Emma's friends yet." Then again, considering his hovering on the edge of fashion tragedy, it might be for the best. "Hey, you probably get this a lot...Steve Rogers? Named after...?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Emma Frost." The repetition of the name comes on a breath as Steve then locks the name to the feminine figure on approaching both of them. He lifts his arm off his rib for Janet to flow away to greet the other woman in white. All the while, he wears a quiet smile as he waits for the attention to move from the Wasp and to himself.

Emma's offered hand is taken and given a firm, friendly shake. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Frost."

His eyebrows do lift at Alex's question. Temptation to glance over at Janet is strong, but the good Captain resists it. Instead, he replies with an easy-going humor as he shakes the young man's offered hand, "Not too popular of a name, I'd hope? Been mine for a while now, after all. Captain Steve Rogers; nice to meet you, Mister Summers." His hand shaken then gestures towards the restaurant in all its Cajun glory. "Figure we'll go inside, get our seats? Breeze is kicking up a little." Wouldn't want anybody to get cold, after all.

This man would know about how uncomfortable it is to be cold.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet's grinning at the exchange between Steve and Alex, though more at Steve's expense than Emma's date. Who'd have guessed Steve would be the one taken aback at the lack of his own notoriety?

"You didn't tell your man here he's meeting Captain America?" Janet clucks her tongue at Emma once, and abandons Steve's arm to link elbows with the socialite so the two men can talk and do whatever it is they do to size each other up.

But after the doors are opened for them, of course. "Don't you just love this outfit?" Janet agrees, and looks down at the jacket. "This was just one of those fits of fashion, honey, I saw the pantsuit on the rack and felt like it deserved to die. Fortunately, I am merciful, and thought it'd make a kicky sort of springtime look," she remarks.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma nods in agreement with Janet, as they enter the doors of the establishment. "The pantsuit's second life is likely more merciful than its first," she says. There is an arrested giggle. "Of course I didn't tell him," she murmurs to Janet in an undertone. "And miss the look on his face?"

Though the look on his face might not be as funny as the look on hers, as she looks up from her gossiping with Janet to survey the eatery. The hostess tilts her head at the pair. "Reservations?" she asks.

"7pm. Frost, four." Emma replies in a flat, emotionless tone belying her utter horror. ...checkered tablecloths? And WHAT on earth are the waitstaff wearing? "...this isn't at all what I was expecting." At this point, Emma is expecting an animatronic snappign gator to slide out of some crevice in the wall to starting singing in a mechanical yet somehow still nasal tone.

"Of course! Right this way!" the cheery hostess replies, oblivious to the sudden mood shift.

Alex Summers has posed:
    Alex's jaw drops as he gapes for a moment, before recovering, his teeth clicking as he shuts his mouth firmly. "...well, you're certainly deserving of carrying it then." he says dryly, shooting a look Emma's way as she makes her escape inside with Janet. "Yeah, let's get inside, I don't think Emma wants to live up to her name /quite/ that much."

    He motions for Steve to follow the ladies inside, then does so himself, letting the door close behind him. Well. So Emma Frost, high society socialite, Captain America, the first Avenger...Janet, who is apparently a fashion plate and probably something else.

    He's soooo going to get Emma back later for not warning him. REVENGE!

    But for now, he just checks out the place as he follows after, pausing to tug out a chair for Emma as they reach the table before taking a seat himself as he raises a brow at Emma's tone. "...what exactly were you expecting for Cajun cooking?" he says amusedly.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve moves to open the doors after he's yet again abandoned to social mores and the questioning of what qualifies as fashion. Admittedly, he's of the opinion that fashion, like art, is in the eye of the beholder. There is a part of his heart wishing for the familiar comfort of his combat boots rather than the glossy Oxfords on his feet.

Opening the door emits a grand wafting of...fried...food? Breaded food, at least, and the bouncing twangy strains of...guitar music -- no, Steve knows guitar music well enough, he has an instrument of his own.

Banjo. It's banjo music.

He does follow both ladies in, leaving Alex to close the door behind them all. It is, with a inkling of awe at the profound juxtaposition of hopes verses reality in his expression, that he scans the place. High dining, this...is not.

Emma checks them in and he does minutely rock forward and back on his feet, hands slung at his pockets in projected calm nonchalance at the whole affair. The waitress is given a polite smile before they all duckling along and arrive at the assigned table. Overhead, the ceiling fan stirs up the air and allows some cooling effect as well as the spread of all of the scent of delicious...cuisine. He too pulls out a chair for Janet, gently tucks her to the table, and then seats himself.

"It has a...homely kind of charm," the Captain allows as to Alex's comment, his smile unable to be helped and showing partially.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet turns a slow look to Emma, flat-eyed with the unamusement a feline might express at their claws being clipped. "...Interesting choice, Emma," she says, and leaves an entire mini-tantrum expressed in those three words.

Steve's smile gets a flickering look, too, lest he dare let it become a knowing smirk!

She accepts his hands and settles into the seat he pushes forward, legs twining to the side to tuck one ankle under the other. Her handbag's draped from a convenient chair hook.

"Mm, smell that deep-frier," Janet says, and pastes a vapid smile on her face. "I can feel the coronary settling in already."

A busboy comes over to pour water from a plastic jug(!) into plastic cups(!).

"Can I get you anything before your waitress arrives?" he inquires, timidly.

Janet's already examining the drink menu. "Cubra libre, make it a double, and have another one ready for me in two minutes," she tells him.

Emma Frost has posed:
"What is this..." Emma skims the plastic-coated menu, flipping to the drink section while trying to touch the menu as little as possible. "A hand grenade? That sounds blissfully strong. Bring two." She shoots Janet a Look, before leaning over a bit and murmuring "people at the club who have been here said it was good!"

She lets out a soft sigh, still keeping an eye out for suspicious animatronics, her expression as icy as her surname.

This is probably somehow Loki's fault. This seems like the kinds of shenanigans he would pull.

Still, company and all. Emma forces a half smile and glances to Alex. "Look, they have..." she frowns. The French names of several of the dishes on the menu are misspelled. She doesnt finish her thought, blinking furiously at the menu.

"Make them both double whatever is in them," she grates to the waiter.

Alex Summers has posed:
    "Ah....I'll have....a Coke." Alex says slowly, eyeing the two women, then gives Steve a look of 'we're totally carrying them home later, aren't we?' before he picks up the menu. "Well...maybe the food's authentic at least?" he says hopefully. Not that he speaks Fench, so he's not quite aware of how badly the menu is mangling the language of love.

    But, yeah, seems super kitchy, and in his experience that usually isn't a sign of good food. Good food doesn't need posers pretending to be authentic, it just is.

    "So...ah, it's a pleasure meeting you both." he says, sensing that conversation might need to begin riiiiight now before Emma and Janet stew themselves too much. "I know you Steve, I know a bit about you Janet. Was looking forward to fixing that a bit." He leans back in his chair, crossing his legs at the ankles absently. "Dunno what Emma said about me, but I'm a geophysics masters over at Empire State University. Among other things."

Steve Rogers has posed:
"Your darkest beer on tap, please," chimes in Steve to the busboy, offering him too a pleasant smile as if that might ameliorate any uncertain nerves. A glance towards Alex and very, very minutely shrugs. Maybe?

The others place their drink orders and while they do, he scans the place once more now that he'd seated and less distracted. It all seems...indeed homely as he'd stated up near the front check-in desk -- functional -- overdone and mincingly proud of it.
His sigh is heard as he shifts in the chair, all the better to read the menu tilted up in his hands. While Steve knows French, it isn't as fluent as his Gaelic; however, even //he// knows that's not how you spell that particular item's name...or its ingredients. Dernier had gone on enough about it when bored between missions and commiserating around the fire.

His attention rises off the menu and to Alex as the young man speaks up. "Geophysics. Complicated field of study. Almost done with your thesis then?" The menu is laid down. He's made his decision on matters: the gumbo. Surely that can't go wrong?

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Nothing on the menu seems to appeal to Janet's epicurean tastes, so it's set aside and a few inches away from her. While Steve speaks, she worms her fingers into his hand and squeezes.

"She did mention the geophysics," Janet reassures Alex. "In fact, she wouldn't stop gushing about you," the socialite says, and shoots an impish look over at Emma. "I'm an Empire State Alum, too," she reassures him. "I graduated with my MFA in '17. Different part of the campus from STEM, I'm sure, being over in business and art," Janet allows.

She glances over at Steve when he sets his menu down, and inquires with a flickering nonverbal dialogue about his choices in the matter of food. When drinks arrive, Janet snatches up the cuba libre the second it hits the table, bites the straw in her back teeth, and starts gulping it down as rapidly as decorum allows.

Emma Frost has posed:
If the tacky plastic neon yellow and orange tiki cups Janet's drinks came in weren't bad enough; Emma's arrives on their heels: one neon green, one neon pink, the base shaped vaguely like a hand grenade with a tall cup sticking out the top. Brightly colored neon straws are in each "glass". Emma blinks and takes the pink one, taking a long draw.

"So," their waiter chirps happily, "What can I get for you all?"

Emma looks at the brightly colored, misspelled plastic menu without touching it. "So, about the jambalaya--"

"Jam ball ayy yuh," the waiter 'corrects' her.

Emma blinks rapidly. "The..." She fights the urge to reach into the waiters mind and force ably correct everything wrong in it like a teacher with an abundance of red pens and a class full of dunces who have turned in late papers. "Yes. That. I will try that."

She goes back to draining the horrid plastic piece of kitsch. "I'm going to need another," she points out as an afterthought.

Alex Summers has posed:
    Oye. Okay, even Alex caught that one as he looks at Emma with a commiserating expression. "Jambalaya, no shrimp, just chicken and sausage." he says, gleefully ignoring the waiter's pronunciation. "And and an order of the boudin for the table." It's really hard to screw boudin up, is his theory. No doubt he will be deeply disappointed.

    He'd order a po'boy but his tingling sense of self preservation suggests they would, in fact, be able to mess up a po'boy. It's only partly deep fried after all.

    "With the...mack...choy...." He pauses, realizing it's actually written that way. "...the macque choux on the side."

    He's gonna try to get a good meal out of this, darn it!

    He smiles at Janet. "Hey, degree buddies! Yeah, I'm finishing up, hopefully this May, which is...good because my life got a bit complicated. So being out of school will at least cut down on stressors. I do a bit of archeology on the side, it's my minor, but that's more for fun, I just like digging in the dirt. Never know what you'll find."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Feeling the slink of thin, familiar fingers between his own, the Captain gently squeezes back. He's a beacon of calm composure at the moment, glancing over to Janet and then at the others as she speaks. Janet will likely note the subtle tap-tap on the plastic-sheeted menu indicating which food item he's going to risk -- er, enjoy -- tolerate: the gumbo, touted in print to be 'chockful of all the goodness of Naw'leans here in the Big Apple'.

His drink arrives in its plastic pint glass, a cheery sky-blue color with dancing crawfish lifted on its sides, and he lifts it to his lips -- and then pauses. Wait. He said a //DARK// beer. A sniff proves this to be Bud...weiser. Oh god. It's the darkest beer on tap.

Behold: the fabled Rogersian 'Disappointed Face', eloquent in its disenchantment.

Steve recovers enough to place his order benignly. "I'll take the bowl of gumbo with a side of bread," says the man to the waiter. Alex's extrapolation of his minor has the man giving him an interested look.

"Find anything good lately?" Yes, there's a vague little self-effacing smile, proving Steve ready for the potential of the age-old joke about either being a fossil or being recovered like one.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Another expressive dialogue is exchanged with Steve, and it culminates with a dance of Janet's eyebrows and a theatrical eyeroll. When even Steve is disappointed in the fare, it speaks poorly for a restaurant's potential. Still, after two years of a relationship with Janet van Dyne, fine dining is more the norm than the exception in her company.

Janet and Emma are both getting 'looks' from around the restaurant; it's a family place, largely populated by blue-collar workers who like their food deep-fried and heavily salted. Janet's outfit alone could pay a month's rent for a sizeable New York apartment.

Her near-undress certainly isn't earning her any favors among more conservative diners. "So who all is on the guest list for the gala?" Janet murmurs, pitching her conversation at Emma so Steve and Alex can continue their conversation. "I assume it's not just the club's VIP list."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma shakes her head. "Typical for the spring gala, it's open to anyone paying the ticket donation towards the cause. And then of course the hope is more folks will open their checkbooks that evening. Genosha needs rebuilding, and that requires materials and manpower: which as we both know, costs." She drains the pink cup and begins sipping from the green. "Shaw insisted on changing the charity for this year after the incident. I think it was an excellent idea, personally."

She glances over at the men, and a slight smile comes to her lips. "I am looking forward to it. I may have to see if Shaws assistant will forward me the current list of confirmed attendees, however. I am not on the planning for this, though I've been threatened with handling November's this year." She sighs. "As if I don't have enough going on. But that's part of being raised to the board I suppose."

Her voice pitches a little quieter. "There are benefits though. I'm in my own place now, finally, one of the apartments on the 6th. It's nice not to have to have roommates or Father and Mother around for once." She frowns a bit. "Do you think the men will mind if we do dessert literally anywhere else?" she murmurs idly.

Alex Summers has posed:
    Alex sighs. Well, this won't be memorable for the food, definitely. But hey, Captain America. And Janet, who seems cool and dresses memorably. Could be worse?

    He shrugs a little to Steve and smiles faintly. "Not lately...dissertation pretty much has eaten up all my time until recently. But I'm seeing if I can get in on a dig around here maybe for the summer for a week or so, it kinda depends on what my schedule ends up being." Which Emma has thrown off, but in a good way, so...keeping things open.

    "So are you coming to the gala as well? Emma suprised me asking me to go...it kinda kicked off us dating with more small dates first, honestly."

Steve Rogers has posed:
Steve sips at his beer and doesn't make another face, at least while he's attentively listening to what Alex has to say. His thumb, rested atop Janet's thumb in their shared hand-hold, soothingly metronomes back and forth. Even if the action isn't actively noticed, the Captain hopes it acts as long-standing sense of comforting support. He knows the Wasp is out of her usual element here in spades and plaid alike.

"More'n likely coming to the gala, yes," the man shares to Alex. "Don't think Janet would let it slide. Good to start off slowly though, don't rush things too fast." Alex gets another small smile. "Where're you thinking for the dig site? Locally or in another country?"

The man glances over towards the kitchens, wondering just how long it'll take to get the plates arriving.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet looks over when she hears her name and flashes a bright, charming grin at Steve. The gentle sussurance on the back of her hand has indeed gone mostly un-noticed, though it's visibly soothing her. The act of looking at Steve makes her realize what she's doing, and her fingers curl in his hand again before she focuses back on Emma.

"We're coming," Janet assures Alex (and Steve). "I've been a Club member for years. Plus, it's a great charity option. I know Queen Lorna through some mutual friends; this is a great opportunity to donate some funds to help get people resettled and start rebuilding Genosha," she tells him.

Two more drinks arrive; Janet hoists hers in salute to Emma and bites on the straw again to start sipping greedily. "I don't think the boys will mind at all. How about Cosme? I'm dying to try that cornhusk meringue, it's supposed to be the hottest new thing for desserts," she suggests.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma nods. "Anything would be better than this," she says in an undertone to Janet. She looks up and gives Alex a bright smile that is entirely not actually a smile at all, but an almost-identical facsimile thereof that a smart man might be able to recognize as...

Dangerous.

More drink time. Emma drains half her hideous drink quickly. "The gala should be simply wonderful this year. I think it will be better than Novembers was by far." Another long sip.

The food arrives. Emma stares at her plate of what looks to be white rice with seasoned shrimp and... is that Canadian Bacon? ...Emma is not by any stretch an expert in southern cuisine, but this seems off.

Alex Summers has posed:
    "Well," Alex admits. "I was planning things back before I met Emma. I don't think I'd want to be gone for long, or perhaps a short trip I could commute to and from maybe easily." He glances over at Emma, just in time to see her down most of her drink in one go. At which point he copies Steve, reaching up to quietly cover Emma's hand, as his own meal arrives.

    Annnnd crawdads were added. Instead of shrimp. And there is no chicken or sausage to be seen in his jambalaiya. The boudin are shaped like hamburger patties and look like they have been enthusiastically fried. The corn dish...has corn and okra. And that's about it.

    Alex sighs, waiting until everyone has gotten their food and their enthusiastic waiter has left, then says. "So....ah...does anyone want to really risk eating this stuff, or would we rather grab a hot dog from the cart down the street, which looks safer and also more authentic?"

Steve Rogers has posed:
Subtly nodding his head, Steve seems to communicate to both Janet and Alex confirmation: we are, in fact, coming to the Gala. He glances over towards the Wasp at the name drop of another restaurant entirely.

"Why not," he murmurs in agreement to dessert elsewhere, giving the refined fingers interlaced with his own another gentle squeeze. All will be well, his entire mien seems to radiate.

His attention briefly returns to Alex just before the food arrives. "Maybe a dig on the mainland then, a quick train ride or a puddle-jumper to be home on weekends."

Handed off his steaming bowl of gumbo, the man takes a moment to steal back his hand in order to settle the crispy white paper napkin provided across his lap. He takes up his spoon and after thanking the waiter, goes to scoop. And pauses. And frowns down at the bowl. "...y'know, thought gumbo was supposed to have rice in it? Thinking this bowl of it might be an impasta."

Because Dad Jokes and egg noodles are a perfect dish.

Unrepentant, he glances up with his spoon now buried beneath the oily sheen of the gumbo's surface. A look around the table includes both women. "If we're being honest, 's'better'n C-rations, though not by much," he replies quietly.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
Janet slooooooow looks to Steve with an expression of flat unamusement at his joke. Holds the gaze. Slooooow pan back to Emma.

She doesn't even reach over to steal any of Steve's food.

"I need to powder my nose. Emma, come with me?" Janet prompts her, and gets to her feet. "Honey, why don't you settle up the bill, and we'll go get a proper New York meal and then pick up dessert somewhere."

Her handbag is slung on her left forearm; Janet waits for Emma to get up, and the two of them head to the restrooms, looking to the doors labelled 'Cowgirls' and 'Cowpokes'.

Discarded nutshells crunch under their designer shoes. In that, all things are equitable in this restaurant, it seems.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma doesn't even speak to acknowledge Janet's request, she simply tosses back the last of her drink and heads towards the ladies room with Janet, eager to get away from the travesty that is whatever they are serving.

As the shells crunch beneath their feet, a loud, goofy mechanical laugh comes from the far side of the place.

The overly enthusiastic waiter spots them and interrupts their escape. "Oh, ladies, Gary the Gator is about to sing for us! Stick around for a few minutes! This is the best part!"

Emma's expression could freeze a volcano. She reaches inside the man's mind and yanks something. Probably not critical. "Excuse me," he mumbles considerably less bubbly. "I must have mistaken you for someone else. I've got to go turn off Gary."

Alex Summers has posed:
    Alex lets out a snort of laughter at the pasta joke, then quickly covers it as death glares are aimed Steve's way, covering it by taking a drink of his...cola. Which is mostly carbonic acid, not much actual caramel, and tastes...yeah, he's not going to drink that. "...do you think Janet is chewing Emma out for picking this place?" Alex says with a sigh, leaning back in his chair.

    he goofy laugh is met with alarm, his eyes widening as he glances towards the stage, then looks relieved as it seems to be a test. It was only a test.

    Though, it /would/ have been worth it to see Emma's face, really....

Steve Rogers has posed:
There is indeed a puckish sliver of a smile on Steve's face as he returns the dead-fish look he gets from his lady. Months -- years -- for SO LONG, she's putting up with his one-liners and, yet, still she's around. Magic does happen!

"Tough crowd," he murmurs to Alex after Janet's left the table, vastly more amused at the reaction garnered than at his actual joke. Tapping his spoon off on the side of the bowl, he glances to the young geophysicist. "'m not privy to the mysteries of the powder room 'nd never gonna be, so couldn't hazard whether or not anybody's getting chewed out. But, 'm not as picky as the gals, so 'm gonna ask about getting my gumbo to go." The hellishly cheery chortling of the animatronic reptile has him freezing in mid-rise to stare in the direction of the creature. A quick glance towards the women finds them finally unmolested by the waiter and the kid, now appearing a little more vacant, moving to some alcove on the side of the restaurant stage.

"Right. If 'm not back from settling the check by the time the gals're back, I'll meet you outside of the front doors," the Captain says to Alex before he departs for the main waiter station tucked back near to the kitchens. One can see him begin speaking to the head waiter and gesturing, expression empathetic and a touch woeful -- so sorry, need to vacate the premises abruptly, here, allow me to pay, and can I get a to-go container? ...what, no to-go containers? At this point, Steve just hands over his card patiently. Sigh.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
The ladies return a few minutes later, arms linked; Janet breaks from Emma and moves to wrap herself around Steve's bicep, smiling up at him adoringly. "Looks like we're all settled?" she guesses. "C'mon, let's go get some dessert then," she prompts Steve, and tries to tug him towards the exit. Given the sheer differential in mass, it's a comically disproportionate effort; Janet seems to be relying on Steve's compliance in lieu of having any real ability to move him around.

"Emma! Get your man, let's go get some dessert," she orders her friend. "At this point, I'd settle for some Carvelle."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma slides in next to Alex, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of mischief and something not quite easy to define. "Dessert! we should have done that first," she agrees, her hip bumping up against Alex. "You want dessert, right? What about that place with the shiny cake? The very, very shiny cake." She takes a deep breath in through her nose, surveying the table with a frown. "Yes, shiny cake would have been a much better answer."

She looks towards the drooping, unmoving gator across the restuarant. "Oh. They killed it. So sad." She starts moving towards the door. "Let's go."

Alex Summers has posed:
    Alex raises a brow at the hip bump and the false sympathy for the tragic lost of Gary the Gator. Truly a moment of silence for the creepy ass animatronic. One of the things he probably wouldn't have minded /accidentally/ melting when no one was looking.

    "Sure. The shiny ones." Alex notes, taking Emma's hands as they walk after Janet and Steve. That bit of mischief has him slightly on guard...because it means Emma is up to something. And presumably Janet is up to hijinks as well. "What's Carvelle?" he asks quietly.

Steve Rogers has posed:
Blessedly sooner than later, Steve's card is returned to him with the check and he signs off on it, adding a fair tip for the sake of the staff. He feels no need to punish them for working for a decent wage. Slipping his wallet away and giving the head waiter a polite nod, he then joins the others by the door.

"All settled," he confirms to the fashionista on his arm. Her useless pulling doesn't make him move at first, given he's visually checking upon both Emma and Alex -- they appear to be fine and in agreement with the plan -- and then the well-built Captain leads the way as they exit the restaurant. He takes up an easy pace, partially out of habit for Janet, but also not to leave anyone behind.

"We'll call in a car, get us there faster," he says for everyone's benefit even as he's pulling out his phone. "You holding up?" His question is pitched for Janet's ears alone; she's getting one of those knowing side-eyes where he wonders that her spritely shift in demeanor might not be purely physiological.

Janet van Dyne has posed:
"Iiiii am doing /fine/," Janet informs Steve with a singsong voice. The look she directs up at him is one of dreamy adoration, quite a shift from prim unamusement from just minutes prior. "C'mon, let's go get something to eat," she prompts him as they get outside. "Real dessert, real food. I don't even care where, just tell the driver to pick something good."

"Or... wherever we can get shiny cake for Emma. The poor darling," Janet pouts, and reaches over to give Emma's fingers a squeeze. "You should have seen her at prep school. Like... like Anne Hathaway, in that one movie. Gave her a makeover one day, and--" Janet makes jazz hands around her own face. "Which goes to validate what I've said for years, makeup's a snap if you know what your colors are."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma flushes a little at Janet's comments, and quickly changes the subject. "Yes. Real food, good dessert. But dessert first," she insists.

It isn't too long before the car arrives to take them back into the heart of the city... away from theme restaurants, singing alligators, and noodly gumbo. Perhaps something good will be made of the night after all.

Alex Summers has posed:
    Alex looks...curious, as Janet brings up Emma's makeover. And files it away. Something to poke around at later, maybe. He's seen that picture she has in her apartment, after all.

    But at least, shiny cake will be had...and some food, and then....well...maybe the next date will go a little bit better.