Owner	Pose
Peter Parker	Peter slips out of the building, taking a deep breath. That Morgan girl was suspicious. But she was in class, and he had some time before the "pass" he is carrying around will reach the 99th minute of it's 100-minute "warranty." With that and the spoofing for the cameras, he had to act fast. He had to find the Science Wing and look for who might be the star science people in this place. He glances to the left and right, then heads along the path to the building and the labs that are supposed to be there.
Beatriz da Costa	It started with her coming out party in Gotham where the fact she was back in the biz got plastered all over television. Invites from various places to show up -- on talk shows, game shows, and one children's birthday party (an idea so wonky she almost took it!) -- started arriving. The most interesting one, however, was from the social sciences class at Happy Harbor in their segment on unusual occuptations.     The result: an hour of hormonal teens staring at her while she tried to explain the difficulties in balancing the running of a business with fighting crime.     Hormonal super-powered teens.     "Think things through better, next time," the green-haired model said to herself ruefully as she passed through the halls and out into the grounds.     Where there was a young man sneaking around.     "Are you lost?" she called out to the stranger, waving a friendly greeting. A sardonic smile scrept onto her face. "Or are you sneaking into class late? Or sneaking out of class early?"     It's quite possible to mistake her as a teacher, if only just barely. If she is a teacher the dress code is pretty ... unusual.
Peter Parker	Peter blinked and looked up, and...whoa. Kermit was wrong, it looks like it CAN be easy being green. Especially if you look like...that. Was she a teacher? She certainly didn't DRESS like a teacher. She was... Okay, Peter Benjamin Parker, ramp it down. Give her the hangdog smile that's gotten you out of many a lecture. "Hi...my name's Porter? Patrick Porter?" He holds up the hall pass with the half-life. "I'm actually on my study period. I'm a bit new here, and I wasn't able to get my uniform yet, so I got a waiver just for the day." He'd had that made up, as well. "I'm trying to get to the labs so I don't get lost."
Beatriz da Costa	To say that Bea is dubious is an understatement. This deep into a semester and a single-day waiver for uniform? A study period while going out and about? This kind of thing is why she chose an abode so close to the school. It's the kind of place that's just begging for shenanigans and she's smelling shenanigans.     None of this reaches her face. What does instead is the professional smile she learned to make at a young age. The one that activates the dimples just so. That crinkles the eyes just so. The one that made her lots of money.     "Well, why don't I help you find it then?" she asks. "That way if any security guards spot you, they'll see you with me and you get fewer hassles. In fact just one: walking along with me. I probably don't walk fast enough for you."     She tilts her head. "I'm Bea, Patrick."
Peter Parker	Peter smiled plesantly. In spite of the baggy clothing, he did have a disarming smile. Even white teeth, taken care of, nothing crooked. He nods and says, "Thanks, that would help." He didn't plan any sabotage or anything like that, just wanted to see the equipment and stuff. "I'm glad to meet you, Miss Bea." Baggy jeans and shirt aside, he does have a bit of a spring in his step. He walks very...efficiently. Wasted movement is almost non-existent. "Are you a teacher here? Or some kind of consultant?"
Beatriz da Costa	Her movements, by contrast, are not in the slightest way efficient ... except insofar as they efficiently attract attention to the traits she wishes to call attention to. Her head motions cause her hair to move in ways that subtly call attention to her face. Her hips sway ever so slightly in ways engineered to attract the male eye. Her shoulders move in a complex counterpoint to attract ... well, that sort of deal. Efficiency is definitely not a concern.     Her own teeth, similarly perfect, and standing out in contrast to her cassia skin, flash in response.     "Who, me? Neither!" she laughs, waving dismissively. "I was a guest speaker for a social studies class that was doing a module on certain kinds of occupations. I just happened to see you when I came out."
Peter Parker	Peter ohs. "Oh, okay." That made sense. He figured her for an etiquette teacher, acting. Maybe even math...if only because she had curves that made people want to take up geometry. "When I graduate, I'm shooting for the Neuroscience program at ESU." That's true enough. ESU's science programs are next-level. "I think I have a lot to offer in that area of research."
Beatriz da Costa	"Neuroscience? That's a pretty heady subject." It's unclear if this pun was intentional or not. Her face isn't giving anything away since it's seemed to have a hint of mischief in it from the get-go. Or she just has that kind of face. "And ESU is a hard school to get into. Who's your advisor/guide here? I've heard it's almost impossible to get into ESU without some kind of consultant to help you navigate the requirements, official and unofficial."     She looks around and spots the signpost that guides people through the campus. "It says the lab building is this way," she points out, briefly changing the topic before turning her attention back to Peter to hear about his tutor.
Peter Parker	Peter follows the directions dutifully enough. "Actually, I'm in contact with Dr. Curt Connors, a professor at ESU. He and I have been corresponding for the last six months, and he's said that if I make a good showing in the inter-school science fair, I can snag the partial scholarship and he will push the Admissions department to approve me as a student." He smirks. "With a fully-stocked lab, I think I can accomplish almost anything."
Beatriz da Costa	The emerald eyes widen in amazement. "Your tutor is at ESU proper?" she asks, incredulity tinging her voice. "That is a very impressive accomplishment. I'm so pleased to meet such a brilliant young scientist so early in his career!" Her eyes are now looking at Peter speculatively. "Might I share some advice with you, Patrick?" she then asks, lips slightly pursed in thought. "It's unsolicited advice, thus the worst possible variety."
Peter Parker	Peter chuckles. The last time someone this lovely spoke to him...well, that had been Supergirl. And then there was the Black Cat, but she was unadulterated sex appeal. Bea was more...confident experience and maturity. All of whom were so out of his league they weren't even playing the same sport. But he can tell himself they find him appealing because of who he is. Because he can lie to himself, too. "I always take advice on its own merits, Miss Bea..." <"They LIKE me better than you, Parker! That's why no one will help you!"> Carl King taunted in his mind. That had been the time he'd been tied to a light pole and he had used the Super-Soaker loaded with urine. "...even if unsolicited," he finished, a little more soberly.
Beatriz da Costa	"I've worked with all kinds of scientists," Bea says as she strolled along in the general direction of the lab building which was beginning to become visible behind the gymnasium. "And I've noticed they fall into broadly two camps: the successful and the unknown."     A stray breeze blows a strand of hair over her face diagonally and she pauses to tidy it up. It's a hopeless task. That hair seems like it's alive and living on its own terms.     "Neither of those camps says anything about competence. There's very competent unknown scientists and there's utterly incompetent successful ones. Maxine Hedrun is an example of the former. Jordan Peterson is an example of the latter." She pauses a moment to look at Peter. "Be a successful one. Your life will be easier. You will have more money. And you'll have the clout to dictate what projects you work on instead of having others push you around."     She stops a moment and starts to adjust Peter's shirt with a frown. "And the key thing that differentiates successful from unknown is public interaction. Learn to dress..." Her fingernails briefly scrape along his neck lightly as she adjusts a collar. "...learn to speak to the public..." She pulls up the shirt at the shoulder, folding back the slack and eyeing Peter's now-visible form beneath. "...and work on your presentation."     Her advice ends with her hands resting on Peter's shoulder as his shirt now approximates a properly tailored one. She licks her lips absently as she looks it over.     "You've got good bones, as we say in my trade. But your hair ... style it. And get clothes that fit better. The form under these ... flour sacks you're wearing is good. Use it to your advantage. Pick up a social coach and learn to project some confidence. Then you can be one of the big names that people know instead of some talented nebbish nobody's ever heard of."
Peter Parker	For a moment, the primping feels like something Aunt May would do. But this woman...is so much not Aunt May. He knows feeling those fingernails along his neck do not make him react in the same way. Steady on, Peter Parker. He takes a deep breath. He hopes she hasn't looked too closely. If she had, she would have seen that he's not just in shape...he's what the fitness magazines called "ripped." Looking at that would instantly call his professed interests in science into question. "Well, I don't...well, I sorta have to get what's on sale...at Goodwill. That's why I need the scholarship. I need to be able to handle bills and such." It's also why he turned down the MIT scholarship, because he could not live in Boston - Aunt May wouldn't make it through the first winter...and who has two thumbs and is responsible for that? THIS GUY. "Yeah, well, my classmates from my last school used to call me the Absent-Minded Professor." Okay. He HAS to be lying now.
Beatriz da Costa	The clothing check finished, though the power in the shoulders she's feeling does raise a mental eyebrow, Bea moves on to the hair, pulling a stylists comb out of her purse and trying a different part. And another one. "There. You don't want the mop you had. Part it on your right. The asymmetric part calls attention to the better side of your face."     The jawline is caught this time around. Strange. The kid can't be much older than 18, but he's got the build and the lines of someone older. Or someone who works out and has thus matured physically faster from the pumped testosterone. Not exactly science material. Something's not adding up...     And this time those creeping doubts make it to Bea's face, ever so slightly. The brief press of the lips. The slight narrowing of the eyes. Something's off, and she's not quite sure what it is.
Peter Parker	Peter's cheek color slightly, but he has looked into the faces of a lot of criminals, and the science of body language. When someone is happy, angry, doubtful... ...suspicious. Then the science building is right here. Run, or go? How important is what he needs to know? In the end, he chooses to play it to the bone. He just needs to look inside one of the labs, see what they have. "Yeah, I'm...not very fashion-conscious. You know an awful lot about that sort of thing. Are you in the fashion business?" Peter keeps walking, looking to the numbers of the rooms. He's looking for one with an L next to it. L for laboratory.
Beatriz da Costa	"I'm many things, Patrick," Bea says, chuckling in ways that lead to very distracting motions. "I'm a model, though hitting the age barrier on that. Fortunately I'm also a fashion designer. Gives me something to do after I have to leave the catwalk outside of retrospective events where people get amazed at how long I've kept my looks. Or at how they've faded, depending on which way Nature chooses the curse me." You can hear her capitalizing 'Nature'.     "But I'm a few more things. Former detective." Bam! "Former spy." Bam! "Former and once again vigilante."     Oh. Shit.
Peter Parker	Peter looks to Beatriz, startled. "Uhm...I have no idea what you are talking about. You put those words together about 'faded looks' and somehow they lose any credibility when they pass your lips." Nothing about the spy part or the vigilante part. Or the detective part, although he hasn't missed any of those. Because those are things he cannot dispute. "If you're humblebragging, you really shouldn't. It doesn't suit you. If you're not...and someone sold you a bill of goods about yourself...you oughtta get a..." ...and oh, look, there's a security guy talking on a radio. Hello, Parker Luck, nice of you to show up. "...refund." Peter glances to the right and sees what he needs right now. "Uhm...sorry. I should probably...answer a call of nature, because they always call collect. Excuse me." And with that, he ducks into the men's room.
Beatriz da Costa	Bea shakes her head, currently ignoring the guard, knocking instead at the door of the men's room. "Just in case you're thinking of doing something crazy, Patrick, the windows are barred in all the washrooms," she calls out, her voice just on the edge of laughter. "It's better to just face the music. And for what it's worth, I don't think you're malicious, so I'll throw my voice in your support."     She leans against the wall near the men's room door, raising one foot to rest against it, knee jutting out, waiting for one of two things: Peter to come out or the noise of breaking bars. She fingerwaves at the suspicious guard as he approaches, fishing in her pants pocket for her JL identification and holding it up to the guard, also holding a finger to her lips.     "Patrick?" she asks.
Peter Parker	The guard steps up as the radio squawks, "...possible ID Peter Parker. Midtown High. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Slim build..." The guard chuckles. "I'll just go in. Members Only, miss." He grins, then steps inside. "All right, Mister Parker? Just come on out. You're supposed to be a smart guy..." The creak of a stall door. "...we just want to ask you a few questions. The tech guys want to know how you spoofed the cameras..." Another creak. "...sorry, Mr. Parker. There's nowhere to..." Creak. The calm confidence is gone. "...go?" Peter settled the panel of the drop ceiling in place, then moved along the crawlspace upside down until he made it to the stairwell. He peeked out after dislodging one of the ceiling tiles, and found the stairwell empty...
Beatriz da Costa	"Shit!" Bea's voice sounds really, really, really annoyed. "And I really liked this outfit too!"     The hapless guard, hearing that, comes rushing out, misinterpreting what Bea was saying.     What Bea was DOING on the other hand, gob-smacked him. With practiced haste she was undressing. The boots had already been kicked off, flopping haphazardously across the floor to crash into the opposite wall. The jacket. The bustierre, the bandana, all dumped into an ignominious pile. The leather pants were the item at work when the guard game out.     "Watch my stuff?" she asks in a sweet voice, as the pants slid off like she'd just peeled off her own skin, tossing them on top of the pile of others, standing now only in her (well DUH!) rather revealing undergarments. I mean, she's got it, why not flaunt it?     Then, standing in her place, vapourizing the remaining garments, is ... Beatriz da Costa-shaped green plasma, coalescing from a bright, roughly-shaped ball of plasma into her normal form. "I have a miscreant to catch."     And with that she's rushing to the stairwell near the entrance they came in at, taking to the skies as soon as she's stepped outside. "I have a little prankster to catch," she croons to herself, laughing. "Poor kid isn't going to know what hit him!"
Peter Parker	Peter had to admit. The woman made of green fire is impressive. She was already through the door at the north end of the building, so he dropped down after she passed by under him and headed south at a dead run. Ten seconds later, he burst out of the south side. No Spider-Sense going off. So far, so good. He was still wearing the same ensemble and the green, beat-up backpack when Beatriz spotted him on the street outside the boundary of the school, and definitely not looking like someone who could fly up 15 feet. He was walking along with the rest of the morning commuters, moving briskly. Not dawdling, but not hurrying. He was a good hundred yards from the subway station, though. But in one minute, he was going to he down the stairs and out of the area.
Beatriz da Costa	Time for the dramatic entrance. The prospect would send chills down Bea's spine if she had a spine in this form. Her mouth forms, however, in a glowing green facsimile of a predatory grin. This is going to be FUN!     Timing her arrival so nobody would be in the splash radius of her propulsion flame, she flies over Peter's head and then just plummets, guiding herself to hit the ground about 5 metres before him, providing an enormous blast of braking flame just before touchdown to give the maximum, most spectacularly dangerous-looking display she possibly can -- carefully keeping the flame from touching anything that would be hurt by it. Like, say, a certain "Peter Parker" as his name turned out to be.     "So is it Peter or Patrick?" she asks conversationally after the fireball landing, rising to her feet and tilting her head to regard the fugitive 'prankster'. "I guess I wasn't complete either when introducing myself. I'm also called Fire. Justice League Reserve."     That unclothed feminine form would be really, really distracting were it not utterly terrifying, being constructed of incredibly hot green plasma...
Peter Parker	Peter reacts immediately, recoiling back from the terminally-hot heroine landing in front of him. Other commuters, who seem to know the score, scatter to give Beatriz room. The introduction was a bit of a shock, too. Justice League? What the heck kind of school attracts THAT kind of talent? He DEFINITELY didn't get a full read on the school. And then he realizes that there is nothing to suggest she is wearing any clothing and his face reddens immediately. When he looks up, he looks confused. "Uhm, yes, I'm Peter Parker. But, uhm, Fire...have we met before?"
Beatriz da Costa	"Beatriz Bonilla da Costa, code name 'Fire', of the Justice League," the green woman says, more formally introducing herself. Then an enormous grin spreads across her face. "Bea to her friends. We still are friends, I hope, Peter/Patrick? Or do you have something against metahumans?"     Her laughter causes small jets of flame to escape her nose each time she 'snorts'. It would be adorable were it not so terrifying.     "The school's security wouldn't mind having a word with you. They're more interested in how you ... and I quote 'spoofed the cameras' ... than in punishing you. Would you mind coming back? I'm also going to have to pick up my clothing anyway, so I have to go back myself.
Peter Parker	Peter smiles wryly. "Well, I hope we can be friends, Miss da Costa. I don't have any issue with metahumans at all. Saying that, I also try not to antagonize anyone with a flamethrower accessory. But I am not sure if I can help you there. Hypothetically, I am sure that anyone with a frequency modulator tuned to the right frequency and oscillation could blur a camera to eliminate any chance of positive identification. Especially with a shifting-phase algorithm to keep the cameras from compensating." He gives Fire a smile that is almost as warm as she is. "Purely hypothetically, of course."
Beatriz da Costa	Bea crosses her arms while Peter dissembles, distorts, and otherwise dodges. "Peter," she says, her voice still friendly, albeit a little wry, but also resolved, "you know how sometimes polite people word orders as requests? I'm one of those polite people." A glowing eyebrow lifts. "I know about school pranks. Hell, I know about INTER-AGENCY pranks, and trust me, those get magnitudes more dangerous. Just please come back with me to the school. I'll vouch for you that you're not malicious, and I really do believe they'd rather just know how to defend against you than punish you."     Her head tosses in the direction of the school. "It's a pretty ... ah ... special school. They're far more interested in beefing up their security than they are in control. Because control is hopeless."     My. How mysterious.     "Please, Peter? As a favour for a new friend?"
Peter Parker	Peter looked to her face. Just to her face, because the rest of her is distracting as all Hell. And about the same temperature, he was sure. His face softens. There is a difference between having the upper hand and being arrogant about it. There was no possible way they could prove he had been in there, except for Morgan and de Costa. Morgan he didn't know from Adam. But... ...but there was something about Fire that cooled (ironic) his satisfaction. And, truth be told, it hadn't been an easy hack... "Well...I suppose I could do a favor for a friend," Peter said politely.
Beatriz da Costa	Peter gets a thankful nod and a smile for his reward. And a hand on his shoulder. OMG A ROILING CLOUD OF SUPERHEATED PLASMA HAND IS ON HIS SHOULDER IT'S BEEN NICE GOODBY CRUEL WOR... Wait. It's not that hot. Warmer than an average human touch, sure, but it's not painful hot. Even though the bare skin on his neck is getting a bit of a roast from the heat radiated by the top of her hand.     "You're a good kid, Peter. And a smart one. Smart enough, I think, to take my earlier advice to heart. Work on being one of the successful ones. Treat it like a science problem. Form hypotheses, design tests, evaluate results until you get what you want."     Beat.     "And it's OK to look. I won't mind."     That's the little cruel stab she added because of the loss of her underthings. Thankfully she didn't have to vaporize her favourite outfit...
Peter Parker	Peter can feel the little exothermic reaction at the nape of his neck. He figured about 10 million bacteria were headed to single-cell heaven right now. It was also a good analogy for Fire. Warm, but there was that element of danger. However, when he did look at her, his eyes never strayed below her elegant throat...dammit libido she's JL and not interested in a schmuck like you. "...Don't take this the wrong way...? A gentleman wouldn't look even if it was okay."
Beatriz da Costa	"That's why I'm vouching for you, Peter. You're an obvious gentleman, even if perhaps to a disappointing degree."     She leans in to whisper, "I didn't get into modelling because I don't like being looked at." A wink and she's straightened up again.     As the flaming green woman and the fugitive return to the school, there's more security presence. They don't look terribly happy at the huge breach that occurred. Including a meta breach. Three guards meet them. Two of them looking surly, one looking chagrined. And carrying a bunch of green clothes.     "Ooh, thank you! Could you point me to a ladies' room so I can change quickly?" Bea asks, quickly taking the clothing (without burning it!) and positively scampering off in the indicated direction. The guards look to Peter. "Comin' along peacefully son?" the one that had the clothes asks, not entirely unkindly. The other two look like they kind of hope he doesn't want to come along peacefully.
Peter Parker	Peter looked at the guard. "Why wouldn't I? I'm not someone dangerous. I'm nobody. Ask anyone in Midtown High, they'll tell you I'm nobody." There is a sobriety in that, as he he fully expects them to get the answer he said they'd get. Someone like Fire...SHE is somebody.
Beatriz da Costa	Officer Morgan looks at Peter thoughtfully. "Look kid, if you was tryin' to get popular by pulling a prank, it don't work that way. The kinda people makin' ya do stupid pranks to 'be cool' won't think you're cool because you did their biddin'. They'll think you're someone they can use." Voice gruff, but mannerisms kind, he leads Peter to where an obviously beleaguered computer nerd is sitting, an obvious manager-type standing behind him, glaring. Not at Peter.     "OK, Mr. Parker," the manager type says. "From the top. Explain to Leroy here why your disabling of the cameras was something that shouldn't get him fired."     Behind the guards the door opens quietly and Bea, not Fire, slips in in her restored outfit. She gives Peter a smile and an encouraging thumbs-up.
Peter Parker	Peter looked at Morgan, a little flicker of irritation. Then he looked at the manager. Aligning his mental crosshairs. "Leroy...the software you are using is pretty top-notch. Adaptive hueristics. Facial recognition. A pretty serious firewall." He takes a deep breath, looking to Leroy. "However, the software has a buffer-overrun issue when dealing with a frequency-modulator capable of packet overload in strings greater than 64 KB. At that point, it basically says, 'The heck with it," and refuses to parse the incoming data and dumps it to volatile memory to be processed out. Because it knows if it tries to process it, the whole system will go belly-up. Now, as you might have noticed, the software keeps this localized, so that only the person carrying such a modulator would affect the system, and no one else." He looks back to the manager. "Leroy would not know this because the system never had to deal with such a situation, because the equipment to do this didn't exist...until two days ago. And he wouldn't know about the hack because four days ago, your antivirus software picked up a virus, killed it then sent the virus signature to the database...without knowing that the signature ITSELF was the hack."
Beatriz da Costa	Leroy looks actively relieved, more and more sure of himself as Peter's explanation took hold. The manager, who clearly doesn't like Leroy, looks less and less happy. Leroy keeps his job another day. A warm, not hot, hand rests on Peter's shoulder and squeezes as Bea moves up behind.     "I had a chance to observe the suspect up close, Mr. Baugh," she picks up, continuing the narrative. "I would be willing to swear that he intended no actual harm to this institution. Even in court if it comes to that." Testimony on Peter's behalf from a JL member? That would sway a jury for certain. Mr. Baugh knows there's no avenue for satisfying his ire in that direction now either.     "Suggest a higher IT budget, Peter," she breathes into Peter's ear, so close her breath warms under the earlobe and along the neck. "Leroy can't. But if you do, he can save face and make it sound like his idea to the board."
Peter Parker	Peter realizes that it is a superhuman effort not to shiver at the feeling of Miss da Costa's breath along his neck. He forces himself to look at Baugh. Mentally cocking the hammer back. "Now, your IT people might have picked up on the hack if the software was properly supported. However, the schedule for updates was downgraded from every 24 hours to every two weeks. A cost-saving measure. This time, it allowed a student to get a look at the layout of the science wing. What'll happen next time if you continue to be penny-safe and pound-foolish with the IT budget?" He gave the merest trace of a smile. "It's B-A-U-G-H, right? I'll make sure they spell your name right in the DAILY BUGLE." Target destroyed. And oh, the carnage...
Beatriz da Costa	"Let's not be too hasty, young man!" Baugh said, eyes widening in panic. "I'm sure we can make some sort of arrangement. Perhaps you and ..." He can't hide his distaste as he says the name. "... Leroy can work out a plan to submit to the board for approval?" There's a cringing, whining, pleading tone to his voice now.     And Bea giggles. It's a soft one, but it makes the body that's next to him move in a way that makes Peter aware of WHAT is touching him. That would be the part that had one of its major supports burned away recently. "Well done, Peter. You're good at being bad. Keep that up. Girls love a safe bad boy."     Leroy, sensing for the first time that he might have the upper hand in an abusive relationship, nods in agreement. "I think I would love to work together with Mr. Parker. I think his specific knowledge of the hardware and software in question is something that is worth a definite consultancy fee."     Baugh flinches.     "But none of that will help if there's not enough staff to execute any new plans in the future.     Baugh practically collapses.
Peter Parker	Peter smiles pleasantly. "The going rate for consulting, only. $50/hourly rate, no more. I'm sure I can type up a full report, complete with step-by-step logs, in no more than four hours. Including a risk assessment for not following the plan...with estimated dollar amounts." He smiles to Leroy. He never meant to get the guy in trouble, and if he can make his life easier, then he's made up for the trouble he's caused. This makes him feel good about the whole thing. Peter reached into his pocket and takes out what looks like a matchbox, and a USB key. "Here's the modulator, and the files on how it was made and the best suggestions for setting up a defense against it. No charge."
Beatriz da Costa	The rest of the negotiations go quickly. Baugh has been roundly defeated, and it's not helped by the fact that the security guards themselves don't seem to like him either. Eventually everybody winds up outside except Baugh (who's gone to his office to cry) and Leroy (who's scurried off to the staff lounge for a celebratory drink--and rumour-spreadng). Then the guards walk off (after checking Bea out when they incorrectly believe she isn't noticing) leaving Bea with Peter outside the front door.     "Well, it seems my estimation of you was right, Peter," she says, eyes twinkling with laughter. "You aren't malicious and are a gentleman. Thank you for that."     And then the touchy-feely Brazilian in her does the touchy-feely thing, kissing Peter on both cheeks.     "It was a pleasure meeting you. Remember what I said about success too."
Peter Parker	Peter is blushing furiously, even though he does know that Brazilians do that sort of thing. So step back, maintain control, and realize she is just being...friendly. Just friends. "I'll...try to keep it in mind." He doesn't sound completely convinced. Maybe because he'd tried success, and he had lost everything. He needs to start walking away. He's done a stellar job to avoid looking foolish, and no one has asked about how he got out of the bathroom. So wave to the model/detective/spy/superheroine, and get to the subway station... ...and try to forget.
Beatriz da Costa	Bea looks after the departing kid, chuckling to herself. "Poor guy's gonna get eaten alive when he hits the big bad world."     She raises an eyebrow as he walks away. "Pity about the age. We could have made great music, danced really well together." She shrugs. "Well, someone else will land that fish and be fed for life."     She walks away then, heading to her apartment, a slight dance in her step.     "That was fun."