nextgenerationmarvel | Text To Brooke (And Subsequent Thread)

"I don't recall any food fights during my time there, but from what I hear, the recent crop of girls is a little wilder than the last." She actually remembered things being fairly genteel. And were she privy to Brooke's thoughts, well, it was possible, but most likely they simply had different values. Ones she didn't understand as well.

"I've seen the running of the bulls once. Not participated in it, though. Dreadfully improper for a good Catholic girl." Stephanie laughed and took another sip of her wine, which was topped off as if by magic by a passing server. "As for La Tomatina ... never. I get disgruntled enough when I spill something on my clothes, nevermind having a giant tomato fight."

"Wilder? You have a snow rat ragamuffin, Wolverine's daughter, and the one who organized the shelter thing the other weekend." She paused. "They're uncouth."

Another pause, as she helped herself to more sashimi. The maitre d' was right. This did taste ridiculously fresh.

"We should take them to La Tomatina," she finally said. "Well, you know, if I wasn't in danger of being brutally attacked by them."

Edited 2012-11-24 22:35 (UTC)

"Only if we have full-body wetsuits on underneath our clothes. I don't feel like having to scrub tomato juice off of myself." Stepanie laughed, and helped herself to more of the sashimi, which was really the best she'd ever had.

"I wonder if they have fish in the kitchens that they prepare to order. This certainly tastes fresher than most any I've had before." As Stephanie spoke, the poor salmon finally expired in the kitchens. As the sashimi started to dwindle down, their glasses were topped up and another course came out, a dish organized around the finest grade of milk-fed veal.

"They probably do," Brooke said. "I'd imagine it was part of their special menu for their more worthy guests." Not that those who dined at Languedoc weren't worthy, but once in awhile you'd find some pathetic refugee from the Jersey Shore who'd saved up enough to have an appetizer or something.

"I'll pass on the La Tomatina thing. I'd rather not be forced to wear a Jaclyn Smith design from K-Mart out in public for any event, even if it is to waste the product. I'm sure I'm allergic to anything lower than Bloomingdale's." And really. Bloomis was the lowest that Brooke would ever go.

She gently poked at the veal. "It's possible they have their own farm right outside town."

"I consider that quite likely." Stephanie for her part got right into the veal. "It's delicious." As for the crowd at Langudoc, she doubted that someone with those sorts of shady credentials would even be allowed to dine there. She'd certainly heard of people being declined from service there. They took exclusivity rather seriously here.

"Rest assured, I won't be taking you to La Tomatina." Stephanie chuckled and sipped her wine. Once the veal disappeared, it was replaced by an intermezzo of sorts, a selection of vegetarian dishes made from rare and exotic ingredients.

"Okay, enough talk about vacations and food," Brooke said, waving her hand as if dismissing the topics. "Let's get to the juicier stuff," she said, "Like dating." Which, again, not really something she could discuss. There were not many men at the school who were dating material, but Stephanie usually had a choice man or two on her arm.

Marcelo notwithstanding.

"College men are singularly unimpressive as a lot." Stephanie replied swiftly, smirking faintly. "They have great expectations of women, but fail to meet any of my own." She sighed. She'd tried dating a few men, but they were sad specimens indeed. Truth be told, it made her sometimes wonder if she'd really made the right decision with Marcelo, even though realistically it just hadn't really been possible.

"I'd ask if you were having better luck, but from what I've gathered, there are few eligible young men of any type at the Mansion, impressive or otherwise." There'd been a better ratio when she'd gone, not that she'd really been interested in any of them.

"Not that I would date anyone there, unless they passed muster," Brooke replied. "The only really eligible one would be a Worthington, but they're in short supply." Yes, she had standards. Yes, they were ridiculously high. Did that surprise anyone?

"Besides, I don't..." she shrugged. "I think I need to figure myself out before I try to figure out a relationship." Especially with that sociopath thing looming over her.

"Probably a good idea." Stephanie replied evenly. "Even the best relationship is a potentially complicating factor. We've both got some time before we really need to concern ourselves with it anyway." And well, Brooke's being a virgin? Probably made it easier for her. She didn't know what she was missing.

It was at that time that the main course arrived, a more elaborate variation on the theme of surf and turf, which seemed strangely conventional. Though she was reasonably sure it wasn't beef per se, but likely some other similar creature. In truth, it was reindeer, and the particular lobster species the tail came from was endangered.

No, she only had a romanticized idea of what she thought she was missing.

The truth, when it happened, would be a heck of a shocker to her.

The reindeer was shockingly good.

Not that she'd realized she was eating Rudolph's cousin.

"So I suppose that means you aren't considering a certain Brazilian?"

"Aren't the medallions lovely?" Stephanie suddenly spoke up after a pause that was about a moment too long. Marcelo wasn't really something she wanted to talk about a whole lot, not even to Brooke. Mostly because she still wasn't sure if they'd made the right decision or not. It'd seemed so impossible and she'd been sure of it at the time, but she missed him terribly.

But Brooke, well, Brooke would surely notice that she was clearly trying to avoid the topic.

"I don't know." God, even the words were hard to get out. Partly because of what they meant, but also because she hated acknowledging that she didn't know something. She was supposed to be the all-confident mistress of her destiny.

"Yes, they're mouthwateringly succulent and absolutely delicious," Brooke replied without skipping a beat. There was, of course, a raised eyebrow as she twisted her lips into something of a wry, knowing smile and waited for Stephanie to bring the topic back to her ex-boyfriend...which she did.

Though perhaps not in the way Brooke would have expected.

"Not that I have the most - or any - experience in this, but frankly, maybe this was for the better." That she was irrationally a non-fan of Marcelo was no secret. "Plenty of other more eligible fish out there. Maybe we should throw a Hellfire Club members-only singles mixer."

"Maybe is the operative word. I'd even go so far as to say "probably". But that's the funny thing about love, it's not logical or rational." She practically had to bite her tongue in order to not say anything vulgar after that. Because she really hated that, really fucking hated that. She had ambitious plans and even for a girl with one-third the normal need for sleep, time was a precious commodity for her. She was grateful for the near-invisible server that topped up their wine.

"Have you been to a Hellfire Club function lately, Brooke?" Stephanie raised an eyebrow. "Here in New York, it's practically a ghost town. Father was the heart and soul of that place. The really important people don't go anymore."

The truth was that she considered the Hellfire Club a hopelessly antiquated concept.

"If we could find some means of gathering all the important figures in the mutant community for some manner of gala ... now that, that would be useful." Not specifically to find an eligible bachelor. Her usual spirit seemed to return a little as the conversation drifted towards ambitions and work.

"It'll have to happen eventually. Especially when my plans for the 11th Street Shelter come to fruition."

"The last function I attended was in London, where Manuel introduced me as his Red Rook," she said. "There's been no movement on anything here, as far as I'm aware." She took a long drink of wine and stared into the glass, swirling the red liquid around. "We should start planning it right away," Brooke said. "Preferably before your nephew tries coming up with any plans of his own," she added. "Honestly, it's too bad we can't simply toss Alice in Blunderland down a rabbit hole to Mojoworld or something."

"Alice in Blunderland. I'll have to remember that one." Stephanie replied with a faint smirk as their plates were carried away, and sorbets were brought out as a palate cleanser. "There is no time like the present, agreed."

"You know, if we spread the word to Jeremiah ... it would be pleasant if we could get a representative from Avalon. I can think of a few of its inhabitants that would be rather agreeable company." Stephanie smiled slightly at Brooke. No, she hadn't forgotten that Brooke seemed awfully fond of Lucas once upon a time.

Brooke suddenly seemed very interested with her raspberry-mango sorbet, the way she concentrated on it. Stephanie would, of course, see past that and notice the faint blush creeping across Brooke's cheeks.

"Yes, I think that Jeremiah would be great to have onboard," she said. "His boyfriend and sister go to the Institute with me. If you can't get in touch with him, I can use one of the two of them to do so." Probably Topher, all things considered.

Well, it was a tasty sorbet. And Stephanie didn't press further about Lucas, because it would have simply been mean.

"I consider it vital, actually. He's established himself, however unwillingly and coincidentally as a leader." She smiled faintly. "Oh, I remember Josephine well enough. She's very ... enthusiastic about just about everything." And really, it was just nice to hear that Jeremiah had found a boyfriend, because well, few people worked harder for the interests of their people than he did.

It was then that the last savory course arrived, sizzling hot, with elaborate printed silk napkins on the side. The ortolan, the piece de resistance of the secret menu. The maitre'd helpfully explained the ritual of eating the ortolan.

Whole. With a napkin draped over the head, to fully capture the flavours and aromas of the dish. To, according to legend, hide one's sins from God. Practically, because it was probably not a beautiful site.

It was presented as a holy sacrament of sorts, the summation and climax of all culinary art. It was also a fat little songbird that was supposed to be eaten whole, served with a small snifter of Armagnac for afterwards, the same beverage it had been drowned in.

Brooke stared down at the plate and then back up at Stephanie. She was used to a lot of the things their society did, knowledgeable about how barbaric it could be, some practices reminiscent of the horrible things that people did in ancient Roman times.

But Brooke, Brooke was a lady - or at least she tried her damn hardest to be one - and a lady didn't cover one's head and savagely at a bird.

Then she stared at the maitre d'. "This is some ridiculous way to get back at me for the eucalyptus oil comment, isn't it?"

The maitre'd looked stonily at her, though it was quite possible for Brooke to read that he was insulted. Stephanie for her part took the preoffered Armagnac, pounded it like a sorority girl and looked directly at the maitre'd. He finally muttered condescendingly that he would send the dishes back to the kitchen.

"The bill." It sounded archly dismissive, coldly annoyed in a manner that betrayed more than a little bit of her roots as a Shaw. "We'll pick up something nice for dessert in the District. There's plenty of lovely cafes there."

No, she didn't feel like becoming goddamned Caligula because a restauranteur felt it would be some sort of culinary experience. And if they didn't eat there ever again, well, it would become their loss.

And her and Brooke were part of the rising elite of the one-day inheritors of the Earth. They were not going to be talked down to by some petty server.

"You know what?" Brooke asked, watching him go. "No more culinary surprises for me. The only surprise I want now is finding out that the wine I'm drinking is a better vintage than I had originally imagined." She arched a brow. "Who owns this place? Because I say we buy it and change some things we don't like about it." She glared at the maitre d' as he returned. "Such as the help."

"It is enough to want you to stick with menus, isn't it?" Stephanie considered it for a moment. "It would make for a wonderful revenge, wouldn't it?"

She drained the preoffered Armagnac in one long sip. "At least the Armagnac is good."

She raised an eyebrow at Brooke. "You know, this place isn't that far away from the shelter. And wouldn't it be nice to find some up-and-coming mutant chef to give our patronage to?"

Brooke grinned a catty grin. "I'm sure there's a good chunk of mutants out there who dream of being world-famous chefs," she said. "I'm sure there are some whose genetic gifts make them amazing at that profession, too. I think we'd be doing those at the shelter a favour as well." Since, you know, mutantkind in general had to stick together.

"Not to mention countless little songbirds who deserved better than to be drowned in brandy." She then smirked faintly and raised her wine glass.

"To us. Making the world a better place for mutantkind, one step at a time." Her smirk turned into a brilliant smile.

"To us," she agreed. "I really do think it's time our community saw some sweeping changes - something that would do better for us than simply trying to get humans to see that we're not that different from them. Because so far, that's been somewhat of a fail."

Text To Brooke (And Subsequent Thread)

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