pyroprincess (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pyroprincess) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nextgenerationmarvel2013-01-10 05:32 pm
pyroprincess) wrote in nextgenerationmarvel2013-01-10 05:32 pm
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 ...
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 ...
no subject
"Tell me when you're ready."
no subject
"Alright, querida, come on in."
The room had all of his Vesper gear in it. His suit was on a mannequin nearby. The wings were actually out and spanning across the room so he could smooth out any bullet dents. There was a bench along one wall with gadgets and gizmos over it in various states of needing work on to get incorporated into his gear.
no subject
"Oh my God. You're ..."
Not just a vigilante superhero. He was that guy. Vesper. The one who had lectured her at one point and then "rescued" her from a convenience store situation the other.
"That must have been really awkward when I was hitting on you at that party."
There wasn't a lot else that she could form the coherent words of right now.
no subject
"It was... an interesting experience. Being hit on by a woman who had almost decapitated me one point." He had to admit it. That wasn't an every day thing.
no subject
"It has to do with your mother." Now that she had the pieces, it was easy enough to put together the puzzle. "Does your father know?" It was good right now to ask simple, logical questions. Not dwell on some of the more serious ones.
Like that he wasn't built to handle that kind of punishment, not that he wasn't strong ... she resisted the awful thought for a human, but ... he didn't have superpowers of any sort. And as impressive as the gear looked, she had the impression it was hardly like the Iron Man armour.
no subject
"I didn't tell you until know so you'd have protection. Legally, at least. Not like the men I go against can hurt you, but you have goals you're driven to. I wanted to make sure that knowing me wouldn't... it wouldn't mess up your plans for your future. If you still want to live here with me, I figured you should know."
no subject
"I understand why you didn't tell me. Honest. I ... I'm just worried. About losing you. I don't want to lose you." She took a breath. "When does it end? Is there a time where you can say mission accomplished?"
no subject
"Ideally, it ends when there are no more drug-running gangs in Brazil, but that's more a cooperative effort with the police getting the credit. Here in New York, it's accomplished when America is no longer profitable for Brazilian drugs to be on the streets here. With my surveillance and tip offs to law enforcement, I'm trying to keep the drugs routed through New York, so I have something to do about it."
no subject
"I hope that one day that will happen. I think I'll always be a little afraid of losing you, but I'd rather take the chance and be with you than do the safe thing and not be with the man I love."
She looked at him seriously.
"If there's any way I can help. I don't expect you to make me your sidekick or anything, but I've contacts, resources. Quiet ways of helping things along."
no subject
He did laugh softly at the mention of sidekick. "If I took you on patrol with me, I'd get overshadowed quickly. But if I need something else, I'll let you know."
no subject
"I'd be a terrible sidekick. I'd always be wanting to take your mind off of patrolling or whatever." She grinned and tugged at his tie. "But this room's not the place for romance."
no subject
"Let's get out of here. We can look at the future and then you can massage your poor old yet new boyfriend." He kissed her cheek. "You should have kept the receipt, querida. Unless you were going after a couple parts that work really well."