nextgenerationmarvel | Old Times' Sake (Marcelo)

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Old Times' Sake (Marcelo)

WHO: Stephanie, Marcelo
WHAT: A dinner date, supposedly to discuss business.
WHERE: La Navarra
WHEN: 7:30, Friday evening (prior posted due to my being away on Friday night)

Normally, before meeting with a fellow businessperson for an important discussion of relevant things, she would rehearse whatever it was she planned to say before her assistant, Reginald, who would offer a precise, learned critique. When she had declined to do so for this particular dinner, despite it being with a very important individual, the local "big man" of Veridian Dynamics, Reginald had understood implicitly that the real business of the "dinner meeting" wasn't really business at all, and instead he'd devoted himself to tending to her stock portfolio, as well as to the management of her current, fairly extensive property holdings around the 11th Street Shelter.

Instead, she'd spent the time preparing herself more personally, getting her hair styled, nails done and spending the afternoon at a beauty spa. She'd had something of a revelation, thinking in the time between when she'd sent the text to Marcelo and today. They'd had troubles in the past with being together often enough to sustain a relationship, but neither of them were happy apart from each other. Her and Marcelo. To wit, Stephanie wanted her Brazilian prince back, and like any Shaw worth their salt, what she wanted, she would get, and in style at that. Slipping into the dress she had chosen for the occasion, she looked at herself briefly in the mirror, making sure everything was just right.

She wondered what he thought about her invitation, whether he assumed it would be a mere business discussion after all, or if she wanted to simply spend an evening together as friends, or what she really had in mind. Stephanie mulled it over for a moment and decided she liked the idea of keeping him a little unsure, surprising him a little. For a moment, a little doubt crept into her mind- what if he didn't miss her as much as she missed him after all? She shooed away the undesirable and patently false doubt. No, the mistake she'd made, that they'd made was to let things go. If she didn't think she had the opportunity to undo that nasty mistake, she wouldn't have asked him out for dinner at her favorite restaurant.

When she arrived there, they greeted her with the respect many reserved for royalty- after all, this was her restaurant, even more than the one that she and Brooke owned. She knew its space as well as anyone, the owner included, whom came out to greet her with air kisses and just a slight air of familiarity. She was their best customer, after all. A very special prix fixe menu with wine pairings (and a selection of their favorite spirits for pre-dinner and possibly post-dinner cocktails- and as they were in an entirely private part of the restaurant, they would even be able to smoke cigars if they wanted, public smoking laws be damned). Decor brought in specially from a company that had done similar services for the President, the British Royals on their last American visit and Tony Stark. No expense, no preparation had been spared.

Now, though, all that there was to do was to slowly enjoy a pre-dinner drink and wait for Marcelo to arrive. 1966 Domaine Boingneres armagnac, to be precise. Bold, but smooth. A complex flavour with a hint of mystery ...

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Friday came to Marcelo faster than he thought. After teasing Stephanie about the Loose Lips column, he ended up with a date. Though what kind of date, he wasn't sure. Friendly nostalgia. The business of social advocacy. Something more...?

He wasn't sure. And as he stood in his closet, he didn't have anything to greet that jumble of emotions nor that Stephanie hadn't seen before. He wheeled around and headed out with a slight limp. Marcelo had been casing clubs for drug activity. He had found some and had gone out as Vesper. It went a little rougher than expected, but he was mobile. His movements were a little tight, but he could manage.

He managed to purchase some new clothing that he hoped covered all possibilities. He wore a gray double-breasted cotton-and-velvet jacket, a red cotton shirt, a white cashmere tie, and wool trousers. He didn't have to spring for the black socks and leather shoes because those were on his feet before the clothes purchase.

Marcelo stopped by a florist on his way to La Navarra. He had money to buy the biggest bouquet, but he opted for the simpler pair of yellow tulips. He reminded himself to breathe outside the restaurant. He could handle staring down drug lords, but one Spanish business woman may be the death of him.

He adjusted his tie, straightened his shoulders with a small wince, and went into La Navarra to figure out what exactly Stephanie had planned for him.

When Marcelo went into La Navarra, he was greeted by name by the staff, and escorted to a private room in the back, decorated with no expense nor touch of refinement spared. At the sole table in the room, slowly sipping on a glass of amber liquid was Stephanie herself, her eyes meeting his.

"Hello Marcelo." Stephanie said, any nerves she may have felt not at all showing, instead a slow, sultry smile spreading across her face. "I sincerely hope you're hungry. They've quite a feast planned for us." There was no sign of a briefcase or business papers anywhere.

"If you don't terribly mind, I thought perhaps we'd leave the business discussion for another time." Stephanie took another slow sip of her drink, licking her lips to catch a stubborn drop of the wonderful liquor.

Well, the escorting made this seem a bit different than the first time they were here. He tried to smooth out his walk by the time he arrived at the private room.

"Olá, Stephanie." He carefully walked over, trying to make sure he didn't limp. He noted the lack of business, which might have made his grin just a little bit wider. "I'm pretty hungry. Worked through my lunch again. Those peanut butter crackers in my desk drawer were not as appetizing as I'd hoped."

He presented her the simply wrapped pair of flowers. "Business can definitely wait."

She smiled warmly and took the flowers. "Thank you, they're lovely." She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, like a good friend might. Though she might've taken just a half second longer than normal to pull back and sit down.

"If you'd like a drink before dinner, they're more than happy to oblige. They have all of your favorites." She made sure of it, by purchasing some of the missing varieties of drink herself. A rather spectacular gesture, perhaps, but he was worth it. Or she wouldn't have bothered.

He took a second to look her over. He couldn't help it. Stephanie was a dark-haired Spanish beauty. "You look very... beautiful this evening."

Beautiful wasn't what he had wanted to say exactly, but it was definitely friendlier than 'sexy'. He eased himself into his chair. "Whatever the best dark cachaça they have would be fine."

He smoothed down his tie just in case it had stirrings. He wouldn't blame it, but it would be embarrassing at this point.

Stephanie wanted him to look, and she moved slightly so he'd have a slightly better angle for viewing. She smiled thinly, a Mona Lisa smile that hid more than it said.

"You're looking quite handsome yourself." Her eyes lingered on him, giving him a long once-over before taking another sip of her drink. Before long, a waiter appeared with some cachaca, normally a drink that was rare-to-non-existent in New York restaurants. Stephanie had imported it specifically for this evening.

"So tell me, how are things?"

Marcelo took a sip of his drink. One of his eyebrows raised in surprise. Getting dark cachaça in a restaurant that wasn't Brazilian was an extremely rare event. That it was also aged very well made it almost miraculous. Then again, he was sitting across from a woman who knew what he liked and stocked his own liquor cabinet with.

He brought the glass down from his lips momentarily. "I keep myself busy, but it's starting to get a bit dull. What they say about all work and no play is starting to sound very true to me." He gave her a lopsided grin and a half shrug. "A little lonely, too. I need to learn your secret to a social life."

He had not missed the part in the Loose Lips buried in the Brooke speculation about Stephanie and the college guys.

Stephanie knew Marcelo's tastes very well and had exactedly catered for them, as far as the restaurant permitted, which was quite far, since she had a lot of influence in this particular establishment.

She shook her head. "Social life? Mostly a professional one. Or my discovering that the college crowd really isn't mine." She laughed slightly. Miss Report hadn't totally fabricated about the college boys, though she'd exaggerated considerably. They'd been distinctly unimpressive and she had no interest in persuing any of them any further.

As Stephanie finished her break, amuse bouches started to arrive, a wide variety of tasty nibbles, both native to the New Basque cuisine that the restaurant specialized in (the only Basque restaurant outside the Basque Country itself to get a Michelin star) and a few more familiar to Brazilians than they would be to Basques.

"I know how to do the professional thing. Sometimes a little too well." He relaxed back into his chair a bit when she mentioned not being into the college crowd. Marcelo tried to cover the motion as relaxing for another sip of his drink.

Another sip of alcohol to screw up his courage. Then he set his glass on the table. "Steph, I-are those acarajé?"

Brazilian street food appetizers in a Basque restaurant are slightly distracting to him.

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