Owner	Pose
Wanda Maximoff	People of wealth, power, and influence. Does she fit the bill? Surely every guest or member considers that when dandling a drink from their fingers at the eleventh floor bar. The mere mortals flexing hefty bank accounts and secular powers in the streets below find themselves stripped of awe and influence among their peers and others. Questions spoken without words flood around, ripe for a telepath to pluck from the air or a particularly good bystander to read in body language. It would be a mistake to say Wanda Maximoff ignores those worries. That she presumes upon being here as her right, something like her brother's arrogance or the god-given grace of her father exuded over all he touches, a perverse Midas effect. She surveys things from the bar, waiting upon a drink that may come or not. The demands aren't exorbitant -- an Argentinian malbec, something not too obscure to fish from the cellars; a place to watch the whirl of dancers below; the entertainment worthy of the literal centre of the universe. That might be a step too far. Possibly? Her thumb flicks across a pendant at her throat, nothing remarkable, a hoop of worn gold. The chain that supports it likewise is unremarkable compared to the platinum, diamonds, and occasional kryptonium bauble known to pass through those doors. (Sometimes.) It turns, mirroring the spin of the planet. Those green-gold eyes watch a spat between two frenemies, their divergence in a huff out the doors. Ripples in time. Not enough to stir her to act.
Sebastian Shaw	The Hellfire Club, as usual, is littered with those possessing wealth, power, and strength, in varying quantities, and rarely all three. Down below, the lesser of the elite mingle upon the dance floor, engaged in their physical pursuits. Happy to be seen at that level, although occasionally wishing to be scene up above. Someday, perhaps, they can aspire to that. In the lounge, the most elite of the elite look down, literally and figuratively, upon those struggling to ascend. Those covetous of a position at the top. Even within the VIP lounge, there are some who are higher than others. One such, the Black King, possesses all three in high quantity - wealth, power, and strength. He emerges to stride among those who would visit his club, those who themselves are above the elite. The elite of the elite. His gaze drifts along, taking in those present. Senators. Titans of Industry. All manner of conventionally powerful. But the one that captures his eye is the one who puts all to shame in unconventional power. Slowly, he makes his way across the bar. As often, wearing a deep purple jacket of the Victorian era, lace puffing out from collar and sleeve, black breeches that come to his knee, and boots that raise to his shin. Perhaps an antiquated look, but then, he does not lack the confidence to pull it off. He approaches Wanda, a nod from him towards the bartender hastening the speed with which whatever order she had placed would be delivered. Such is the generosity of the Black King. "To what do we owe the distinct pleasure of your company this evening, Ms. Maximoff?" purrs Sebastian as he draws near to her post at the bar.
Wanda Maximoff	Are they mockeries of angels on the upper level, watching the lesser clay amuse itself, look up now and then with higher aspirations before vices drag them down? Wanda awaits the arrival of that malbec in an opulent, ridiculously large bowled glass if properly served. Time has no meaning, suspended in conversations and knowing looks. Those that flick her way might place the woman, albeit with a little more difficulty than perhaps certain others. Slicked back hair falls pin-straight, no extra ornaments except for a pair of steel pins thrust through her ponytail. The cruciform construction doesn't twinkle much, and her profile is hardly so revered to be immediately cause for concern. She's no Captain Marvel. Just a woman with red wine so dark it might be purple cupped in long fingers, surveying the sharks that circle around a white marble reef. And to be clear, they are all sharks. Some just make a better point of hiding toothy smiles and she accepts being a particularly oddly spotted angelfish or seahorse among them. Pietro, of course, would be the mantis shrimp. Pow. Her gaze lifts from the contemplation of swimming among those tables and conversations not closed off to her type, the body language hinting at sliding among them, when other fates intervene. Perhaps it was meant all along, and the anticipation comes from the hunt unfolding. "An evening well spent in dissolution exceeds the day wasted in hesitation," she says. There's a trace of the Transian accent in her, the Balkans making English exotic when the Oxfordian serials are filed off. A blink, and those green-gold eyes shift to Sebastian. They take in the costume -- again, consider the relatives, and the House of M is surpassingly lenient when it comes to fashionable. "Enjoying the hospitality, of course. You truly don't allow anyone to be left wanting, no?"
Sebastian Shaw	If this be a sea of sharks, certainly Sebastian Shaw be the great white. The other sharks bend out of his way often without even realizing it, and from time to time the less remoras cling to him, offering whatever base services are needed in exchange to the freedom to live in proximity to power. The excitement of it. But for the moment the Black King has shed himself of the sycophants, and stands alone, or as alone as he ever can be within his castle. "Certainly not," he says, offering a smile to Wanda that may or may not be genuine. "I would consider it a failing as a host." He considers her for a moment, his gaze drifting towards that pendant. Perhaps the pendant. "I would never dare to leave a woman such as you wanting, in any way." He issues a slight nod in the direction of the bar, and the bartender scurries away in search of one of his private vintage. He is a patient man, sometimes. And willing to wait. "I am sorry to hear that your day may have been less than interesting, but perhaps we can endeavor to rectify that with its night."
Wanda Maximoff	O the army of the king, the army of the king, some are dressed up to the nines, and some dressed to be seen. A variation on a children's rhyme comes to mind and fades away, almost hummed if she were to pause overlong. Wanda instead sips the wine. A potent red that lacks the tarry vitality of a supertuscan has other qualities instead, if a touch more subtle. Maybe something shared in spirit with her. Either way, a taste found to her apparent liking keeps her quiet and watchful in the transaction of a possible jest with the Black King. Not a bad start for the night. "Not common about here, even for those who have everything," she finally observes. A tilt of her head extends the compliment. The motion is easy. Predators know other predators and the danger they present, and Sebastian most definitely is that. Courtesies smooth out the posturing and minimalize the risks from other VIPs. The pendant is a ring, hardly anything to speak of. A simple hoop without engraving, worn slightly by time but untarnished as gold will never be. The design hardly counts as memorable, the band a touch too wide to be contemporary or suited for her proportions. Old, then. She laughs. "A day spent idle might be a loss for me but a gain for everyone else. Rather like stockbrokers and hedge fund managers, isn't it?" Manoeuvring about the bar slightly, she faces him more directly. "An evening full of promise, quite another. Though surely you've more substantial matters than me, and I would be guilty if I kept you from them."
Sebastian Shaw	A slow smile spreads across Sebastian's face. "Of course, there is much truth to that. Eschewing my own gains, in a way preserves others from loss." Sebastian inclines his head towards Wanda, in recognition of that. "The same would naturally hold true for you. There is something to be said for the tranquility afforded the commoners when a force of nature declines to press upon their day." His gaze remains respectful, drifting upon that pendant to meet Wanda's gaze. There are some with whom he would allow his more rapacious habits to dictate his behavior - the Scarlet Witch is certainly not one of them. "Any matters I may have can certainly wait until such time as I do not have far more interesting potential lain before me." There is a twinkle to his eye. "While you may indeed be guilty, it would not be for keeping me from any other matters."
Wanda Maximoff	The lift of the glass salutes Sebastian about as well as any word would. In lieu of 'salut' or prost or whatever cheers one could pick. The grape blooms, the bouquet sins, the dark soils of the pampas fed by Andean rivers traced across a turbulent wave settling on her lips. "Now, that's overblown. How many dangers do you avoid walking down the street, crossing Fifth Avenue? A thousand explosions contained in flimsy metal boxes passing by right now, and not one damaging the windows," she quips in kind. An ease there to conversation that could bely being a little more on alert than not, for all that she's the sort to practice yoga and occasionally face civilization-ending forces on at least a biannual basis. And Shaw, well, verdict is out on what he grapples with. Lex Luthor's personality and the egos of the VIPs are probably civilization-ending forces on a daily basis. Especially when it comes to seating arrangements. She can cut him some slack, all said. "Maybe we live in a world of calculated risks and those who think about that and see that do well to exercise their ability to enjoy life all the same. Of all that could happen, strive for the best. Thus, we can toast to schedules suited to our own choosing and the best ends."
Sebastian Shaw	His own glass of wine arrives in timely enough fashion for Sebastian to raise in salute back to Wanda. "To schedules of our own choosing," he echoes, before taking a sniff, and then a long sip, savoring the feel of the wine on his tongue. "The world is yet a different place, however, for beings such as you and I. Those who understand the risk around us, but also have a way to rise above them, and focus on the truly meaningful." He takes another sip from his wine, and then places the glass down on the counter. "I have found that frittering away the inconsequential claimants upon my time has, sadly, taken longer than I would care to see, but the day comes soon when that shall be the case. I do hope that you are able to achieve that, as well." His smile broadens. "What burdens weigh upon the head that bears your crown? Or have you shed responsibility for such things?"
Wanda Maximoff	Wanda swirls the contents of the malbec around so the faint trails of sediment dance around the glass. Another sip, though the contents don't ever quite diminish. For the pleasure of the scent and taste are commingled, best then not to rush. Her gaze moves for a moment to see who comes or who goes. Then once more, it returns to Shaw. "What do you find most meaningful of late?" Best to be the audience, given to listen instead of hanging on every word in hopes of self-promotion or fabulous gains. That's not her reasoning. "You sound as though you found an assistant to screen those querents more carefully. Rather like the oracle at Delphi not taking every last petitioner climbing up the laurel-lined slopes." A hint of a smile there, if he's quick to catch it. "Burdens? I am not quite beset, unless strategizing on entertainment is something to be a heavy care. My sister is the one who deals with bureaucracy. I chart a different path."
Sebastian Shaw	"I feel that we are perched on the precipice, on our planet, and the decisions we make now will have ramifications longer after all but a select few of us walk this Earth." Sebastian reaches out to reclaim his wine glass, taking a slow, steady sip. "As we expand our influence, subject ourselves to that from others, we need be cautious that we are seeing what is in our own bests interests." He sighs softly, placing the glass back down. "These are the worries which linger upon my mind of late." Sebastian's lips form that smile again. "I have many who can sift through that which requires my attention, and that which do not. There are, unfortunately, more that require my own specific touch than I would like, for I do not trust enough in others to achieve my level of excellence." A soft sigh. "If it is entertainment that you seek, you have indeed come to the right place. Diversion as well. All in abundance." He waves the hand opposite the bar around to indicate the Hellfire Club. "You have, I believe, chosen the far more enjoyable path."
Wanda Maximoff	"That's quite a hefty burden to carry on your shoulders." Wanda hesitates only for a breath to find the correct word she wants. Her thumb presses the stem of the glass and she watches the light play off the slanting disk of fine wine. "Not unfounded. For quite some time, certain experts have raised the hue and cry from certain corners. Rather unheard. The warnings about disparities and their impacts come to mind, and how the consequences for inaction won't be pretty. I do not pretend to know the outcomes of all those problems we face, but you wouldn't be alone in determining the time to act is now and the long shadows of those actions will far exceed our lifetimes. An unhappy truth but perhaps some comfort to know that the solitary concerns that settle on you are shared." Her quick dip of the chin comes easily, dark hair shifted off her shoulder. There are shades of familiarity in the response from Sebastian that warrant a quick smile in kind, the sharpening of knowing eyes. "No mean feat to be the one steering, is it? I believe that's the often heard concern. I hope you can find the appropriate people or processes to free up more of your time to pursue what you would rather focus on."
Sebastian Shaw	It is with great interest that Sebastian absorbs Wanda's echoes of his concerns. And a nod of his own, in agreement. "There may be enough now. I simply pray that we are not too late. And that we have the influence, and resolve, to do what need be done." He draws the wine back to him, and takes another sip. There is a smile now from Sebastian - an earnest one, as he regards Wanda. Allow himself to relax, perhaps for a moment. "Precisely. And yes, I do believe that I have." His gaze lingers upon for a moment further of thought. "I need only gain a might bit more confidence, perhaps, that I could not do the job better, and then I shall let them free." A soft sigh. "As much as I would cling to my pursuits of pleasure, my obligations and responsibilities call higher priority."
Wanda Maximoff	Wanda nods, the metal pins shining a bit. "Ever the tricky part. How to decide what needs to be done and what doesn't. When and how. Much to think about and balance on all the rest. Maybe it's easier to pursue the diversion and the entertaining." The most grown-up of statements comes with a candor split by the occasional murmur of a laugh again. Soft, but there, easing into something more like a straightforward conversation. "Confidence that you aren't the best. Oh, the woes. Spoken like a CEO or commandant of some kind. We are the products of our own paths. You would not be happy, I think, as simply a gentleman of leisure."
Sebastian Shaw	"Easier, yes. And likely more fulfilling." Sebastian sighs for a moment, an affected one perhaps, before draining the remainder of his wine. "But there is much to be done, little time, and few that I can trust. I cannot afford too much diversion." That comment does evoke a warm, genuine smile from Sebastian. "I think you are right. While I will certainly take my pleasure when I can, true leisure eludes me. And I suppose it always shall." He glances around for a moment, before meeting her gaze again. "Even were I only responsible for those within this building, and not those without, I suspect I would not have much time for leisure." He nods slowly. "Instead, I must steal what pleasure I can, when the opportunity presents itself."
Wanda Maximoff	"The jewel thief and the executive. How often do you survey what's around you in search of the pearls of wisdom and the diamonds in the rough, to pluck them and savour them before the clock strikes midnight?" Wanda looks around briefly as the confines of the club give their allure to the wealthy, the barely restrained opulence marked on every cornice and finish. "Or dawn, in this case," she corrects herself. Affectations aren't his alone. Unlike Sebastian, she can be the literal godmother and princess both. Bibbidy-bobbidy-boo goes the timeline. "A keen eye ever turned or only when you let yourself become it? There are treasures all around in this world. Do not be too late to take yours." She drops her voice, making it a touch more conspiratorial. Is that not the fun? "It doesn't even have to be theft. All the better when you notice something overlooked right there. At least that's what life has taught." She lifts the glass to finish the malbec in a long sip. "Opportunity's my..." One, two, three. "Fourth middle name. Remember to call when you're ready for it. Until then, <domnule>." A wiggle of her fingers is all that she needs to make, putting the glass down on the bar. Time, as they say, is fleeting.