14113/From highbrow to Lowenbrau

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From highbrow to Lowenbrau
Date of Scene: 06 February 2022
Location: West Harlem, Manhattan
Synopsis: Dodging death after a lecture? Tony and Henry meet Yelena Belova on the steps of Columbia. They're not the target this evening.
Cast of Characters: Iron Man, Black Widow (Belova), Beast




Iron Man has posed:
Sunday night in New York City, in the middle of winter. It's damp, it's cold, and the snow that fell a few days ago, if it's at all still present, is grey with little outlines of black. Very attractive. Only the brightest stars are visible in the City's skies, thanks in a large portion to light pollution.

Sounds like a great night to go out? Absolutely it is. If one is part of the invited few to attend a lecture at Columbia University. Not just any lecture on the arts, or some cello concert (Pepper), but one on Genome Engineering Technologies.

At the end of it, Tony is exiting the grand university lecture hall, his dark wool coat only buttoned up half way, though his scarf does wrap about his neck. He's taking the steps with ease, his words falling in the air as throw-aways.

"See, not buying it. I definitely want to see his research on the modulations, and how he came upon his discoveries. To my knowledge, I haven't seen this published in Nature yet." One more step, two, and Tony sums up, "His bio-tech companies are failing. He sucks as a CEO. Last month, one of his partners was banging on the door. Very embarrassing."

Black Widow (Belova) has posed:
Yelena Belova looks like one of the students, although she is definitely not. She is smoking a black wrapped cigarette, very European, with her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She has a long and stylish coat with a thick fur collar and a leopard-print lining, along with high-heeled boots. She is heavily armed in a way undetectable to people without the specialized training to see it and probably would fool most of them.

She looks up from her phone, "Oh, look, it is Tony Stark. Very famous business hero. Hello, Tony Stark," she says.

Beast has posed:
"Ahh, but my dear Tony, he has just enough of a good idea and a desperation attached to it, that he could sell out his technologies to absolutely the wrong kind of people. I'm loathe to say it, but I might have to see what I can do to arrange more funding, to further that research ethically, else we might be facing some diabolical shennanigans of unfathomly heinous proportions half a mile and a lot of mistakes, down the road." That voice belongs to a big blue square in a suit. Doctor McCoy is after all, one of the loud and proud that mutantkind has to offer and one of the few that has a reasonable chunk of international standing, thanks to Things He Has Done In The Past <tm>.

He also looks so very wrong and so very right, whilst wearing a dicky bow.

Yelena gets glanced at, over the top of his spectacles, then up at the stars. "Famous face you have there. However do you live with the constant adulation, old man?"

Iron Man has posed:
"Or, I buy him out," Tony puts a hand in the air, waving away the whole 'underwriting' issue. As far as he's concerned, there's the answer. "I can have my team serve him and that'll solve everyone's problem. Peer review or they're gone."

Once they hit the sidewalk, Tony's got his hands in his pockets; casual, and at ease, but there's something else that sits there. A touch of wariness, even as he puts on his famous, bright smile. "Oh hey.." His head cants slightly, brown eyes narrowing, studyingly, "Do I know you? No.. I would think I'd remember," and he twists around to Hank, "You'd remember her if you met her, right?"

How does he live with the constant adulation? Tony lives FOR it. He goes from 'do I know you' to, "I'm sorry, I'm just a little busy to give out autographs, or my phone number. If you call the office tomorrow, however, I'll have my assistants make sure they put you right through.."

Black Widow (Belova) has posed:
Yelena Belova shakes her head, "You do not know me. I am an unknown woman of mystery. I could be an international assassin, here to murder you or your blue friend here. Hello, blue friend! I do not know you, but I bet you are famous. Let me snap a picture of you for the Google search!"

Her Russian accent is fairly obvious as she lifts up her phone and directs it at the pair of super geniuses. "I do not need your autograph because this is not 1987, Tony Stark."

Beast has posed:
"Well, yeeeeeeees, that is always an option. Not one -I- can do, as my pocket book isn't quite that large, but sometimes it's not what you know, but who, n'est pas?" Considering he has Stark Enterprises on Speed-dial, there may be a conversation had on direction of research had, later. When there's not a well put together international woman of mystery and murder in the vicinity. "Definitely not. I'd remember..." is the reply, bushy eyebrows arched at the snapshot taken.

Google search matches up that very recognizable face rather quickly, one would suppose.

"You know, Philography is alive and kicking, miss. There's a healthy subsection of them that specifically collect scientific entrepreneurs. It's like baseball cards for geeks."

Iron Man has posed:
Tony walks past, but he turns around to take a step backwards in the same direction he had been travelling, taking a better look at the blonde. Russian, check. That sends one of those little warning flags up, and he nods his acknowledgment of Henry's agreement.

"I only have room for one unknown woman of mystery, and it's hard enough keeping track of her. International assassin, I can believe, but pretty sure that all my enemies are cheap SOBs and wouldn't consider paying for something like that." Tony's tones are low, deceptively calm, "You don't strike me as someone that does anything cheaply." He smiles soon after, perhaps to take the sting out of the words, adding a touch of flirt at the end.

"And the good doctor?" Yes, Tony gives him that title because, well.. he respects the hell out of him. "Other than a pelt, he's worth more alive than dead. You know, the whole 'force a person to work in a cave' thing? Which, by the way, is overdone and old."

Black Widow (Belova) has posed:
Yelena Belova narrows her eyes and wiggles her nose, "You are flattering me in an attempt to win me over. But you are also right, I am very expensive woman," she says.

"Ah, let's see. Dr. Henry McCoy. The Beast. Oh, I like that name, it is very ferocious. Rawr, rawr, Doctor Henry McCoy!" she says, making a claw with one manicured hand. "I do not know what you are talking about, English is my seventh language, but I don't know anything about baseball other than Alex Rodriguez used to date the J-lo."

Beast has posed:
"Ahh, Tony, I didn't think you cared. I'm flattered," although by the tone, Beast is both joking and sincere at the same time, the former far more than the latter, though there's a miniscule quirk of the lips at the hint of a smile, a'fore a double-check of one large catcher's mitt of a hand does confirm the blue. "I would make a very -unique- kind of pelt though, you have to admit. One thing I never worked out is how blue ended up being atavistic. I suppose I may be a modern drop bear, hmm?" His ear is twitching though, as he strolls alongside Stark, hands slipping into his coat pockets as he does so. Listening to the cadence of Yelena's spoken words, pinning down her dialect, or more, her education, cultural background, tiny tells that a polyglot can recognize.

"Are we doing drinks? I think I pencilled in that lecture to take a bit longer than it actually did."

Iron Man has posed:
"Contrary to popular belief, I do have a heart." There's a dramatic pause before he finishes, "Somewhere."

Tony had been walking backwards, and one more step has him turning around again and waiting for Henry to catch up, at the very least. Besides, putting his back to a self-proclaimed potential international assassin (which he could completely believe) is a really good way to either taunt her, or, well, die. Or make it look like he really isn't concerned, which he is, actually.

Just not showing it. He's been in worse predicaments than this!

"See? I knew it. So, this is a social call, and you're introducing yourself..." Tony lets the words drift off in order for Yelena to fill in the blank.

Picking up on the idea of drinks, however? Tony pulls a hand out of his pocket and finger-points to his lecture companion. "That sounds like a great idea. I'll just have Happy drive you home." His words skip a beat, then he looks to the rather attractive blonde, even if she's out to kill one of them.. or both, who knows? "Let me guess. Top shelf." Tony looks pensive, "Vodka is too common," is intoned, "But I have a feeling you like that whole 'stereotypical' thing."

Black Widow (Belova) has posed:
Yelena Belova makes a face, "Vodka is never too common. Vodka is the lifeblood of my people. I have it on my breakfast cereal and dripping in my IVs when I am in the hospital. Which I am not very often, because I am the one who does the shooting, not the one who is shot," she says.

"Rich men who act like boors and date hot models should not call other people stereotypes, Tony Stark," she smiles broadly. For Hank's sake, her education would bespeak very much of the Russian model of education, but it's also clear that she may be, perhaps, overemphasizing her accent for affect.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy's mouth opens, about to offer a comment when it seems that just listening to the verbal gunfire back and forth is a more worthwhile endeavor. "Happy? Oh, he'll be pleased. I drove the bentley here. He's been itching to see the modifications I did to her." Other than giving her an electric blue paintjob, there are definite improvements on Beast's sport's car of choice. He quiets down though, glancing back at Yelena with a very, very slight narrowing of the eyes behind those spectacles, vertical pupils widening with it.

Worse predicaments have been had. Plus, at the moment he does have back-up.

"Tony, please don't taunt the international woman of mystery and no-name of accord. She might impale your cranium with a stiletto, except that I think that might leave a mark. Miss, do you have a name? Or at least a name that you are willing to pretend is yours for the time being? The tennis game of taunts and stereotypes is fun, but I do enjoy knowing people's names."

Iron Man has posed:
Tony chuckles at Henry's admission, and nods, "The Bentley? I won't see him for days. You'll have to use a crowbar to pull his fingers away." Though, he is a touch intrigued, "I wouldn't mind seeing them, if you want to pull her into the garage at the Tower later this week."

Fast cars, alcohol... what could be finer?

"Aw, I never thought of myself as a stereotype. Just honest. So," and he echoes Hank's request, "how about we victims of stereotypical circumstance have non-stereotypical drinks at that," Tony points across the street and down the block, "very stereotypical college bar." He offers a quick smile, adding, "Co-eds." As if he needs to explain?

"Miss..."

Black Widow (Belova) has posed:
Yelena Belova tsks, "So insistent on names. I thought such playboys as you would not want to know. What is the term? Plausible deniability. But you may call me Yelena. Because that is my name," she says. She's not offering a last name, the one she uses is fake anyway. She doesn't know the real one any more than they do.

"Ugh, boys and cars. Let me know when you talk about motorcycles, at least. Those are much cooler. But yes, we should go in. Do shots. Play the pong of beer."

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy can't help but grin at Tony, then look down at himself at Yelena's words, then behind himself at his own shadow, as if there might just be some playboy hiding back there. "I'm sure I can arrange for you to look under her undercarriage, as long as you buy her a drink first. She's a lady, you have to woo her a little bit first, Tony. Or at least listen to Happy, when he gets back blithering." Hank does briefly get a far-and-away look, his feet steering indefatigably toward the student bar. It's typical of this area, in that Harlem has always had its feet on the ground, the exterior's been polished up, but you can still see the skeleton of the working class hub that this was.

"Why doesn't that surprise me? Yelena. A pleasure. Hank McCoy and you already googled the both of us."

Iron Man has posed:
Tony barks a laugh at Henry's anthropomorphizing the car, and he reaches to lightly backhand the other man in a show of male-solidarity. "Drinks, take her out on the town, anything to look under that hood."

The laugh settles into an amused smile as they cross the avenue, closing in to the bar. He pulls his other hand out of its warm spot in his coat pocket only to wave it, "Stereotypes again. Don't you know about black books? Gotta have a name to go with the number." Does Tony (still) have a black book, in this day and age? He'll never tell.

"Yelena. Okay," and he nods, his smile rising once more. Offering an elbow to the lady before they reach the bar, there's that moment when he completely believes he'll probably get a knife in the ribs. Here's to dangerous living, right?

"Motorcycles? You don't strike me as a motorcycle type. Unless I miss my guess."

Black Widow (Belova) has posed:
Yelena Belova smiles, "On second thought, I am not so sure that I can handle partying with too such ferocious animals as you tonight. I have important business I must attend to," she says. Did she spot her target leaving from a different door and need to go into pursuit before they have an unfortunate accident later tonight?

Gosh, no, whyever would you think such a thing?!?

"But do not worry, my lips are sealed. All your secrets are safe with me, Tony Stark and Dr. Beast. Das vidanya."

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy's ears flick just a little once again. Oh, the senses he has are somewhat greater than the average man -- and they pick up on things. For one, the fact that a heartbeat can quicken at the sight of something and know that it's not them that caused it. And then, that it can calm just as quick, before the flow of words. What it means, he doesn't know. "Spasiba," Hank replies, watching her leave. "Dodged a bullet there. When they're that nicely put together, they always spell trouble." He observes, looking at Tony with a thin-lipped smile, pointing at the door to the bar.

"She takes premium electricity but does love a pretty set of fuzzy dice. Pink's her favourite colour." He intones. "And she? She would straddle an angry machine any day, ride it to hell and back and somehow never have a hair out of place. Her heartbeat never once broke from sixty a minute the whole time she was quipping you, my friend. That takes talent, atheleticism and likely a lot of crotch-rockets to achieve. First round's on me. C'mon."