10152/A Night with Cirque du Soleil

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A Night with Cirque du Soleil
Date of Scene: 22 November 2019
Location: Theatre, New York City
Synopsis: It's fashion meets fanciful theatrics at tonight's Cirque du Soleil. Intrigue! Drinks! Mini quiches! A show no one's going to forget!
Cast of Characters: Wasp (van Dyne), Captain America




Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Like any good socialite, Janet has a strong civic presence and contributes regularly to the arts. The New York Philharmonic, off-Broadway productions, student arts colleges-- her contributions are varied and multitudinous.

But the dazzling display of acrobatics from the legendary Cirque du Soleil troupe never fails to get priority on her calendar, and Janet has box seats at Madison Square Garden on permanent reserve.

Janet's dressed in black, an ankle-length trenchcoat that fits her like a glove. Black suede boots, black top-hat, and smoky eyeshadow give her a mysterious air. But she is the Sartorial Queen of New York, and even that outfit she makes look like a bold fashion statement.

"You're gonna love the show," Janet assures Steve. The limo pulls up and disgorges them on the 'special access' sidewalk, where a red carpet's been laid out for various celebrities and dilettantes to make a grand show of being seen at the right places in town. Steve and Janet walk together, her hand resting on his forearm for balance; the spike heel on those boots and the sound-muting red carpet make for uncertain terrain. The overcoat's more for show than real warmth, and she deliberately takes long strides so it shows off her boots and a flash of dark-stockinged skin above them. Janet offers a Colgate grin to the photographers and mugs for the cameras a few times, using Steve as a prop/balance point. "Smile honey, keep your chin up," she says with a mystifying ability to speak through closed teeth and a bright grin. "Don't scowl."

Captain America has posed:
"You're talking to someone who used to spend hours on stage in front of the press 'nd politicians, amongst other things." Somehow, Steve's retained that same ability, his dimples and polite smile showing just enough teeth an easy mask to pull from his metaphorical back pocket on a whim. He's got a hand resting politely on Janet's lower back and does his best to keep a mild faux-amusement shining in his eyes.

Talk the talk, walk the walk, and maybe the photographers will move on to the next red carpet couple soon enough, eh?

The Captain is in a dark suit, tailored not only to compliment his height and build, but with a callback to the period of his youth. Thin pinstripes line the jacket and pants. A deeply-blue vest overtop a white shirt and black tie shows from beneath and -- of all things -- a fedora sits rather rakishly on his head.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Then why do you keep scowling at the photographers?" Janet presses. The socialite turns and grins up at Steve. Not a single muscle changes but there's a world of difference between the faux smile she presents for the press and the expression she favors him with.

Always leave 'em wanting more-- after three good mug shots, Janet nudges Steve and they head down the carpet towards the arena. Back straight, head held high, she has all the sweeping imperiousness of a queen.

They're brought inside and escorted to their box seats. Above the seething press of humanity, they're both present and utterly removed from the murmuring crowd below. Janet settles into the seat on Steve's right, holding her coat loosely with black-gloved fingers. A waitress approaches. "Yes, I'll have a cuba libre," Janet requests of the woman. "And I'll take some of those hors d'ouvers and some skewers." She wriggles her suede-gloved fingers demonstratively-- can't get this leather greasy, after all. When Steve takes his seat, she glances sidelong at him and then casually crosses her leg towards him. The coat falls away, revealing that she's wearing a rather brief miniskirt and dark nylons underneath it. Janet's attention seems wholly engaged by the food being brought over-- but she's unable to hide a smile curling her lips in anticipation of Steve's reaction.

Captain America has posed:
Might as well feed the crowd. It's the same case as Steve glances over at the petite fashionista beside him in her daring modern outfit. His smile softens along with the corners of his eyes even if a modicum of wry amusement lingers.

"It's the fall of the shadows, shortcakes, 'm not scowling. You'd know if I was: nobody's cringing right now." On that note, he takes his cue and escorts Janet away from the twinkling of flashbulbs.

He's comfortable enough in the box seat after shucking his overcoat and hanging it over the backrest. The waitress is given a small, polite smile. "Hors d'ouvres as well, please, no skewers though, 'nd whiskey on the rocks," he orders. Of course, the Captain's not immune to the length of the skirt -- or lack thereof. True-blue eyes fall and surely Janet catches the working of his throat in her peripheral if she isn't looking full on at him. Shifting in his seat can be heard by the movement of fabric on fine leather and he interlaces his fingers over his belt, licking his lips.

"Nylons, hmm?" It's extremely sotto-voce, warmly interested, to float over to her.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet accepts the drink when it's served and flashes a smile at the waitress. Food is settled onto little serviette trays near their chairs, and the woman departs as silently as she'd arrived. Janet switches off the paging system that signals the staff once she's gone.

At Steve's question, she looks sidelong at him with an impish expression while getting her things settled. 'Stockings', she mouths back at him. The coy sidelong turns into a teasing grin at Steve's sudden interest in her attire, which is perhaps less modest than the overcoat suggested at first. The drink is retrieved from her tray and she twists back towards Steve. Her ankle rests against his shin as she insinuates herself against his side. "Happy days," she toasts, and offers a clink of her glass to his. The brim of her hat tilts forward demurely to hide her face while her suede-clad toe teases Steve's shin.

Her head tilts back to make smouldering eye contact with one smoke-painted eye and hold Steve's attention. Janet guides the slender black cocktail straw to her mouth and does something intruiguingly dextrous with her tongue to curl it into place so she can sip the drink. The lights around them begin to dim, signalling people to their seats.

Captain America has posed:
The hors d'ouvres smell absolutely delicious and the whiskey on rocks is as cold as the condensation on the glass belies, but there's just a bit of sweat on Steve's palm as he lifts the glass to clink against Janet's cuba libre.

"Stockings -- um, yes, happy days," the man manages to murmur back as well as sucessfully swallow his first mouthful of whiskey. It goes down smoothly as promised and warms as it descends. Or is that the blush on his cheeks now? The up-and-down caress of her toe has goosebumps strafing him from crown to toes in turn. Again, his throat bobbles at the display of dexterity. Sipping a drink should not be that louche?!

"Lighting's appropriate." It seems an innocuous observation as Steve glances up and around the theatre, watching folks settle. But hey, it's in his favor. He shifts in the seat again.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Poor Steve. Janet laughs softly and rests her hand on his leg to give his thigh an affectionate squeeze intended to be reassuring (mostly). The hat makes it a bit awkward so it's doffed and set carefully aside. She rests her chin and cheekbone against his brawny shoulder with a more familiar expression of affection. "Elevator small talk. Very sexy. Hey, how about all this weather we're having?" Janet says. Her voice dwindles to nothing as the show begins, and she curls up in her seat to nestle against Steve.

Cirque du Soleil features some of the finest acrobats in the world. Beyond mere acrobatics, they are a troupe-- actors, dancers, jugglers, tumblers. Everyone has a range of skill and theatrical presence that can serve to dazzle even the likes of the two Avengers, long accustomed to seeing humans doing near-impossible things on a regular basis. To see it all choreographed is something quite different than a frenetic battlefield maneuver.

Though, perhaps Steve would have had a more relaxed experience had Janet not picked the burlesque 'Zumanity' for their date-- or if she'd at least *told* him what the show was going to be about.

As implied sensuality becomes somewhat more risque by the minute, Janet pointedly stares at the stage while idly playing with the drink straw held close to her deeply mulberry-painted lips.

Captain America has posed:
"Don't think you want to start a philosophical discussion on the merits of whether or not to have red wine with the hors d'ouvres rather than what you're drinking now," Steve gets in with his usual dry humor before the lights fully dim and the curtain rises.

Now, Cirque du Soleil? Yes, new and wonderous for the super-soldier familiar with many, many shows. The acts begin with daring-do he's seen rarely outside of his own Avengers-family; only Natasha can execute a more precise and risky spinning dismount and land on someone else's shoulders, for example. But then.

Oh, but then.

Steve wonders briefly at why he didn't take a moment to read the show description online instead of working until the very last minute at emails at the Triskelion. His eyebrows slowly rise while his mouth changes shapes silently over the minutes. A rounded moue of concern morphs to a more relaxed parting of lips and then drops a little bit more in counter to the lift of brows. It's...frankly amazing if risque indeed. With his eartips fully pinked, the Captain watches the show half from the perspective of an artist. His hand idly moves over to rest on Janet's thigh; it gives away reactions with little twitches of fingertips.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Were Steve not so riveted by the show, he'd catch a pleased little feline expression on Janet's face. Not that she enjoys manipulating Steve, per se, but... well, yes, she does, and it's almost as entertaining to watch the erotic display of burlesque dexterity as it is to feel the twitch of Steve's fingers betraying his responses. The heat from his ears can almost be /felt/, even if it can barely be seen in the low box lighting.

It is a remarkable show, however, and Janet's as fully engaged with it as Steve is. Once in a while she shifts her leg under his fingertips just to remind him of the warm skin and subtle contrast of textures clinging to her legs and thigh.

A dramatic crescendo swells and thunders and the lights abruptly dim as the curtain collapses. The house lights come up slowly as 'Intermission' plays in light and shadow across the curtain. "I'm going to the ladies'," Janet informs Steve, and pats his hand. She gets to her feet and stretches languidly, then starts unbelting her coat. She turns her back to Steve and looks over her shoulder expectantly. "Help me with this?" she requests, perhaps a little needlessly.

Captain America has posed:
Truly impressed, the Captain remains riveted until the music falls to silence and the curtain closes upon the brightly-lit stage. He claps softly whether or not anyone else does, if purely in appreciation for the sheer breadth of creativity on display. Janet rising, however, snags his attention, and her elongation of spine cements it.

Look at him swallow again.

"Of course, shortcakes." The seat creaks as he rises to his feet and reaches around her shoulders to pluck at the front of the coat, meaning to pull it back over her shoulders for safe-keeping while she slips off to the powder room.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
The jacket's surprisingly light, weighing almost nothing. It's certainly not meant for severely inclement weather. Given the chill in the night air it might be a little surprising that Janet picked an outfit that is almost revealing enough to pass for on-stage herself. It's a sheathe of a little black dress with a hem that barely reaches her fingertips and a built-in herringbone support. Black suede opera gloves sport a tinkling fringe of black beads running in a line down the back of her arms. The gloves climb up to just below her slender but athletic shoulders. forming a unified line across her chest and shoulders a few inches below her collarbone. It's far from plunging, but short as she is it definitely puts a *lot* of skin on view.

"Thank you, darling," Janet says, and pivots in place. She smiles knowingly up at Steve, challenging him with a direct look and putting one hand to the back of her hip just to emphasize the curves in a contrapossto posture.

She holds it for just a second then pats Steve's cheek. "Maybe put a little cold compress on your neck, darling. I'll be back in a tiff." Her small clutch is retrieved and Janet departs the booth with a sashaying of her hips.

Captain America has posed:
Down the jacket's sleeves go to reveal her shoulders and Steve feels his mouth go a little drier. His palms get to itching on the fabric and rather than wad the coat up, he concentrates on gently folding it over his forearm. Janet's posing has him wishing he had his drink at hand to wet his mouth -- and glad for the fall of the jacket where he'd holding it against his stomach.

"...not a half-bad idea," he manages to get back to her with a light laugh. The next one fades to a rippling sigh. At least a gentleman enough to hang her coat over the back of her chair, Steve then seats himself and grabs his whiskey. The hors d'ourvres disappear in a relative flash. His drink is given a scowl. It's not strong enough!

Then again, not much else other than Asgardian mead is.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet's gone long enough for Steve to regain his aplomb, or at least see if a few stiff drinks will help him get his blood pressure under control. Most likely she's out mugging for the cameras and talking to friends and socialites. Mercifully he's being spared that, at least for the moment.

It takes about ten minutes. Three soft chimes sound, three times in a row. People start drifting back in from the lobby and Janet herself returns to the booth. "Ugh, that took forever," she mutters. "Everyone just *had* to stop and talk to me." Lips press into a thin line, expression humorous and yet unamused. "Priscilla Hearst wanted to remind me that her son's single, 'just in case'." The thick black choker around her neck sports many opal beads and tassets; the sole color in her outfit, in fact, is a tiny disc of red white and blue nestled just above the hollow of her throat. Her fingers fiddle with it absently as if repeating a more pointed action.

Janet finds her seat again and tucks her legs under her so she can lean against Steve's side once he sits down. "You gonna make it to intermission, soldier?" she teases Steve. "I figured this might be a step up from how the old chorus lines used to go."

Captain America has posed:
Alas, only three drinks in and it's not enough to get any semblance of blood pressure under control. Midgardian alcohol simply won't do. If anything, Steve will have to use the bathroom once the second half of the show ends. He glances up at the sound of familiar bootsteps, his drink upheld in fingers out to one side where he sits comfortably. The guide is spread across his lap in proof that he was reading through the informative inserts about future shows and histories of artists performing.

"Priscilla must not read the news," he comments blithely, his eyes falling to the jewelry of his emblem. His lips rise in an allowance of a small, pleased smile -- so there, Priscilla.

"It's definitely more'n a few steps up." Setting aside the guide, Steve too places the drink down in order to sling an arm up and around Janet's shoulders. Smooth, so smooth. "I like it. It's different."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"I bet Bucky's got some good stories about hauling you to the burlesque shows," Janet teases Steve. She shifts and wriggles until they're comfortably ensconced, one leg folding under and the other crossed towards Steve. It'd be a bit daring in that skirt were anyone else in the booth save the two of them. "Maybe I can tease some outta him."

Janet rests her head against Steve's shoulder once more and her hand rests on his leg, midway between hip and knee. The lights dim and soft music plays as the second act begins. "But I don't think a lady in a slip and a feather boa has /anything/ on this crew. My god, I can see why people would want ID checks for Ticketmaster," she murmurs. "Some poor kid thinks they're just seeing a tawdry bit of T&A and next thing you know they're having a seizure from all the erotica."

A grin crosses her face, more felt than seen. "Or a senior citizen," she adds, and pinches Steve's leg playfully.

Captain America has posed:
"Mind your elders," Steve shoots back quietly, his own grin fairly broad. He glances away from the show in order to look better at her and her delightfully distracting appearance as a whole.

"'nd you can ask Buck all you want, but you're not going to hear about any burlesque shows." He pauses for a moment. "Though...mean, maybe he went to one in the downtime between engagements while we were in Paris. I was busy with the SSR 'nd planning the next rout," the Captain lies most skillfully. He knows Bucky will remain mum on this particular vein of conversation; no need to encourage further interest in it.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"You're no fun at all," Janet mutters. But she cozies up to Steve all the same and the rest of the show passes along with the same thrilling pace as the first act. The Avengers know many spectacular individuals capable of superhuman feats, of course. It's quite routine to see someone doing the impossible.

But it's more than just the incredible acrobatics. It's a story and a performance all rolled up in one, making it more than the sum of their parts. Steve could easily do the acrobatics. Natasha could even do the dancing. And Janet has no fear of heights. But to see the combination of all three, in time with music and story and the incredible engineering that goes into the stage design-- well. It's a show well-worth seeing.

The music comes to a dramatic crescendo and the lights all plunge into darkness. Silence stands. Then the lights come back up at the troupe trots out for their bows, to thunderous applause from the gallery below. Even Janet's on her feet in a trice, leaning out over the balcony's edge to join the approbations for their incredible performacne.

"Wow. I /definitely/ need to go to Vegas and see more of their shows," she tells Steve with a voice raised over the din below. "Aren't they just incredible?"

Captain America has posed:
Right along beside her, though not nearly as far out into the open space beyond the edge of the balcony, is Steve adding his own applause into the thunderous sound echoing after the curtain's closure.

"They're a thing of art 'nd beauty," the Captain agrees. "If you manage to schedule a visit to Vegas when I can attend, let me know. Otherwise, take a few girlfriends with you," he suggests even as he's turning to gather up Janet's coat. "I bet they'd appreciate the shows too if they haven't seen 'em before." He holds up the outerwear with the intent for ease of slipping arms into it.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet turns and slips back into the overcoat with a murmured 'thank you', and busies herself for a few moments buttoning it fast. It's meant to be worn a little loose and flowing around the hips, because why else would she be wearing boots that cost more than some people's car?

"I could drag Carol and Wanda along," she remarks, thoughtfully. "I bet they'd like a night on the town. Book up a suite at the MGM penthouse. Champagne and caviar the whole time, then pray for death the rest of the week."

She takes her hat in hand and puts it back on her head at a jaunty angle, and slips her arm through Steve's elbow. "C'mon buster, let's get out of here before the papparazo swarm us," she bids him. "Then you can help me get out of this corset." She grimaces. "And I don't mean that in just a sexy way, but in a 'I kinda can't breathe because there wasn't room for that last mini quiche I ate' sort of way."