16640/No Ducks were discussed...

No Ducks were discussed...
Date of Scene:	08 December 2024
Location:	Club Lux, Melville
Synopsis:	Blueblood met Larry Morningstar's partner. Things happened.
Cast of Characters:	Sinister, Blueblood

---

Sinister has posed:
The Lux was the scene of some activity earlier today, that end of year Prom for the uniquely attributed types.

So, after such events there is the necessity of clean-up. That's what is mostly going on in the Lux at the moment, but right at the front entrance, there's activity in and out -- trash collection, restocking, all that good stuff. The doormen are only slightly on duty, but mostly they are simply helping move things around, because doormen tend to be quite large individuals and the one overseeing all of this action, is NOT one to simply get in and lift a finger to help. That's what the help are -for- after all.

Sinister, wearing dark sunglasses and a notably human face, is speaking quietly into an earpiece as he directs traffic with occasional gestures. This is only strange, in that sometimes the garbage bags are not going to the skips. They're going to a large white van.

Odd. Right?

Blueblood has posed:
Blueblood participated at the party, chaperoned. He figured a few things: a) he'd earned an extra beer, and b) nothing going on between tired teens or hoarse, tipsy instructors was going to further his career. So he haunted the bar as the janitors worked, in a sportcoat and a kilt. He nods appreciation for the grounds-crew, not being so high on his horse as to make extra work for them? The man uses coasters. He's not a psychopath.

Sinister has posed:
It might not have been noted to most that attended this party, but the barkeeps... a lot of them are not human. Sure, they LOOK human, but that's because the proprietor of this particular establishment is keen on keeping up appearances. Those that make messes might not like what happens when the barmen clean house.

But that's beside the point.

Maybe it's the kilt that eventually drew the gaze of very grey eyes over the lower lobby and dance floor. Eventually, that weight becomes an individual.

Heinister approaches, nods to the barman. "Hurricane," so very english. So very upper class. So very the blueblood, if not the 'Blue Blood'. He looks over at the fellow that remained. "You were there earlier. Chaperone, yes? You do realize the good little kiddies have all gone home, yes?"

Blueblood has posed:
Blueblood *waggles* his bottle. "Just tying the last one on. Dessert." Tradesman by the looks of him, spent too long in the sun or hunched over a clogged toilet. More sun, or smoke, or liver damage than the upper class. But not yet desperate, or homeless, or without pride. "... you know, we've got to give the kids positive examples. The sort of thing my generation didn't have growing up."

Sinister has posed:
"Positive examples actually have a proactive approach," Sinister opines, "...from my observations." The hurricane is set down, all fruity and tall glassed and covered in half a rainforest of fruit.

"Your generation just had detached parentals. Now, they're all helicopters. But that's what you get when both parents have to work." He sounds like he's a little disapproving of this. "You one of the TAs at Xavier's little experiment?"

Blueblood has posed:
Blueblood shrugs? "Aspiring, maybe. I had my turn at the crimestopper... circus. It wasn't 'a positive example.'" A rueful smile. "Maybe I'll get recognized if I show up enough, huh? Get myself one of those unstable molecule jerseys-- the real McCoy."

Sinister has posed:
"One of Hank's creations? Oh, but they're so very... blah..." Sinister wrinkles his nose at this, watching the man down the bridge of his nose, because the man is actively -tall-. Like nobody has any busines being six foot five in flats. In a world where there really are giants, there's still a few legitimate tall fellows that impose anyway. He seems to occupy his skin and his space like everything in his vicinity could or does belong to him.

It's a Sinister thing.

"Why would you require molecular elasticity in a suit?"

Blueblood has posed:
Blueblood flexes his fingers in series as he goes to pick up his beer, and he's grown a sixth finger. He drops the emptied bottle on 'the location of his toes' to demonstrate he'd removed them while adding the finger! "'Temu Reed Richards stuff,' maybe, but no mere Homo sapiens sapiens."

Sinister has posed:
"Oh, good grief..." what he's saying that to, isn't clear. Sinister frowns at the polydactylism on display, arches one eyebrow and follows the gaze to the foot where there's a lack of toes. "Interesting. Physical polyfascial metamorphing. Do tell me that it isn't limited to just your digits? That... would be such a goddamn waste."

For some reason he glances up at that epithet and smirks brief, looking back at Blueblood. "You don't have any clue who I am, do you?"

Blueblood has posed:
Blueblood *squints.* "You move in a lot of skilled trade circles? A big guy in the IBEW local?"

Sinister has posed:
"Strangely enough... no. But I do own my own contractor company. Real estate development. And other things..." Sinister seems amused by this, judging by the sparkle in his eye.

Blueblood has posed:
Blueblood ahs. "Then you're right, no. Maybe you emcee the club." He corrects course: "... own it. But no, I came to rub extra elbows with the X-Men at their party. I did not check to see who owned the venue, although I had a look at your wiring and your people do good work." He nods a seal of approval.

Sinister has posed:
"Thank you," Sinister replies to that last, giving an incline of the head with it. He clicks his fingers. High up on the columns in the main bar and dancefloor area, tiny little lights switch on. Then, a few moments later the cleaning staff and the barkeeps are briefly looking around as the whole area takes on holoimagery, much like a transparent Danger room scenario, images superimposed over the regular furniture. "Oh gosh, no, not post-apocalyptic trauma..."

Another click of the fingers and it seems like a bustling otherworldly marketplace, instead. The computing for that and the lighting wiring must be extremely high end.

Blueblood has posed:
Blueblood's raised eyebrow and obvious skepticism are wordless? He can't help himself: "Weird fuckin' dancefloor. Even for a rich guy."

Sinister has posed:
"Has its uses. Very helpful when the Host is trying for a particular theme," Sinister replies mildly. "I installed it for him. It's tied into the cameras..." And he does not expand that at all. Somehow the way he said 'host' the capital H was obvious.

Blueblood has posed:
Blueblood says, "I said I looked at _some of_ the wiring. I think the 25 year guys can do holograms. They get those lapel-pins and, y'know."

Sinister has posed:
"Oh, they give lapel pins to electricians these days? How quaint..." Sinister muses this with a cluck of the tongue, looking down and up and over Blueblood with his head cocked just so. "So you are homo mutens. Hmmmm."

Pause "...why are you attempting to court the X-men again?"

Blueblood has posed:
Blueblood heaves a sigh. "Just thought I'd be part of something bigger than myself someday. 'Serve my community.' Who knows? I should-- get going. Probably."

Blueblood has posed:
Blueblood asks again: "Holographic science fiction bazaar-- why? The exits aren't easy to spot."

Sinister has posed:
"You don't need to be a part of that to be a part of the future itself..." Sinister shakes his head. "Productively, they end up reacting over and over, not proacting..." Glancing around at the bazaar, he narrows his gaze at it and it becomes a far more ordinary scene of decorations for Christmas, which is coming up soon after all. Holly fronds, bunting, the whole shebang.

"Bazaar because I can. And we have had a starwars themed night here before. Cantina."

Blueblood has posed:
Blueblood *chuckles,* despite himself. "Sounds fun. 'Got to pay the bills,' eh."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister gestures at the lighting holograms. "Hence the Bazaar..." he looks over the attire one more time. "You should come by my offices at some point, run a few tests of your stretch capacity -- I might be able to provide you with a couple of prototype suits, to see how well they fair."

Blueblood has posed:
Blueblood nods. "I just might. Who should I say I'm asking for?"

Sinister has posed:
Sinister smiles to him at this one. "Doctor Essex," he replies mildly. But that name also, means almost nothing at all, except perhaps that there is a mega-corporation that shares the name. It's a small world, even if it's giant at the same time.