14188/The Pre-Interview

The Pre-Interview
Date of Scene:	13 March 2022
Location:	Birdland Jazz Club, Midtown
Synopsis:	A reporter from the Daily Planet, Clark Kent, comes to meet Pepper to ask her about the new STEM school that Stark Industries is sponsoring in Metropolis. Yelena is along for the ride as Pepper's body guard. Poor Clark was not ready for Yelena.
Cast of Characters:	Pepper Potts, Black Widow (Belova), Superman

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Pepper Potts has posed:
It's late afternoon, on the edge of early evening, before any proper performances are starting at Birdland. It's one of the more elegant clubs that Pepper loves, where she's attended enough to always get a back booth for private interviews or business discussion. It's not a place she goes to because Tony loves it or other business contacts demand. This is a place for her. Which is why she suggested it when a certain reporter asked for a meeting about the new school going up in Metropolis.

Of course, the initial ask was to meet with Tony. And everyone would think that, absolutely, this is Tony's project. His name is all over it. Stark Industries is funding the entire thing. Deep down, it's been one of Pepper's pet projects. Getting a school into another city and not JUST supporting the Manhattan students, something specifically built for STEM focus alone. It means when the interview request came in, she said that she'd have to meet with the reporter first. He had to earn his chance in front of Tony.

Pepper is now waiting in her back booth of the club. She's already got a glass of Pinot Grigio in front of her and there is small cheese and meat board perfect on the far side of the table. She's also with her body guard. She doesn't get to go anywhere without her. She gives Yelena a bit of an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry if this is the most boring meeting of the week. I can't say talking to reporters is often captivating. They always have the same questions... But it's good publicity for the school." And Stark Industries.

Black Widow (Belova) has posed:
Yelena Belova shakes her head, "Don't be so hard on yourself, Paprika. All of your meetings are very, very boring. This one will not be worse than them, I promise," she says. The Russian spy is clad in a cropped black leather jacket with a faux leopard lining, a white top, black tights and heels. Her hair is pulled up into a chignon to keep it out of her face, although a few whisps inevitably escape to fall across her cheks.

She takes a sip from her glass of water, forgoing the wine until they were out of the public. This time. "This tooty fruity music is not to my taste, but I know is fancy. Is food here good? I could eat a horse. I did once, when I spent a month hiding out in Sarajevo. It took a lot of black pepper to get that damn thing down. So chewy!"

Superman has posed:
Toward the entrance of the club, lazily staring up a portrait of a jazz great, is a plump, curly-mustached man. He's a decent man, his name's Roger, and he's come here for years to enjoy their grilled vegetable salad in the afternoons. He reflects on his life, on the good times and the bad, and always stays if there's an interesting early show. He's a father of two and works in manufacturing.

Today, Roger is choking to death on a bit of tomato and cheese that went down wrong and has lodged in his esophagus. In his sudden panic, he's grasped his table and gone silent, trying to clear his throat or make himself cough. He hasn't been noticed, to his chagrin -- his hands start to go toward his throat in desperation. If only someone would --

"Oh, geez, I'm so sorry," stammers an absolute unit of a man. All eyes turn to him as he dusts himself up and clambers up from the floor he'd tripped on in his rush to meet Pepper Potts, smacking into Roger's back en route to the floor. He's knocked over a chair and he's red-faced and staring at the floor as he picks it back up. "Ma always said I had two left feet," he offers with an embarrassed chuckle, rubbing the back of his tanned neck before peering down at Roger. "You okay there, sir? You look a little flushed -- drink some water, catch your breath. And sorry for knocking into you."

He pats the man's shoulder, gingerly tucks the chair he'd tripped over in, and makes his way back to Pepper Pott's private booth, whereupon he flashes a smile -- it's lopsided, only the left side of his mouth really smiles, like he never learned how -- and offers his hand. "Clark Kent, journalist for the Daily Planet," he introduces. He's got slicked-back hair that's none too flattering in style, his suit doesn't fit right, and his glasses make his eyes a little too big and dull the vibrancy of their blue. "It's, ah, my pleasure to meet you."

Pepper Potts has posed:
The little bit of a dust up in the front does slightly catch Pepper's eyes. More so in paranoia than actual interest. With the fact that Tony and Yelena still think she needs a body guard, every little bit of something that is out of the ordinary gets her shoulders tense and heart quickening. But it's not a fight. It's not even a distraction. It's just some innocent man and the reporter they are here to meet being incredibly awkward.

She smirks to Yelena as her meetings are called boring. She doesn't even comment on it, instead skipping to the food, "Finish the charcuterie board and we can order more. Or just order yourself a steak, Yelena. You can eat on the clock. Eat something. Please. You're not the one who has to talk..." In fact, if Yelena didn't insult their nerdy reporter friend, that might be for the best, "So, get some food!" Pepper encourages the younger woman. She can't help but let that bit of motherly tone show through behind her voice, even if it's Yelena who is supposed to be taking care of her.

Then Clark is there and Pepper stands up smoothly. She's a tall stick of a thing with lovely light red hair and a smattering of freckles peppering her face, though mostly hidden behind some artful make up. She's still in a business suit, this one neat lavendar pinstrips worked into charcoal fabric. Double breasted, perfectly fitted, with a smirk that reaches to exactly two inches above her knees. Her red hair is tucked into a small twist at the nap of her neck and she looks all business, despite it being a weekend. "Mr. Kent. Welcome. Pleae... I'm Pepper Potts, we spoke over the phone. This is my... assistant, Yelena." Body guard would make people nervous, right? She decides not to say the word body guard around the already nervous reporter. "The pleasure is mine. Would you like some food? Please, sit. Relax. Order something for yourself and we can get started." For all his nerves, Pepper is calm and cool as a placid lake. She's done a hundred of these interviews, they are nothing to sweat.

Black Widow (Belova) has posed:
Yelena Belova looks up at the incident and narrows her eyes for a moment. Something about that seems off somehow and she can't put her finger on why. It isn't staged, exactly. She can see that the man was choking and his face is all flushed and sweaty with it. The big oaf who has now arrived at the table doesn't seem threatening, in spite of his linebacker shoulders. Hmmmmmmmmmm.

Any attempt to greet her on Clark's part is waved away, "I am not here. You are not being meeting me. I do not exist," she says, then snaps her fingers at a nearby waitress.

"New York strip, very rare, stuffed mushrooms, asparagus with the little peppercorns that are hard like pebbles. The steak will bleed or the chef will, he may choose," she says.

Superman has posed:
"You, um, what?" Clark's smile falters, and his eyes narrow in mild confusion at Yelena. Then he smiles again, nodding in understanding. "You're not... here? Oh! I see. Ignore you. Well, darnit, that'd be a little rude of me, don't you think?" He offers his hand to Yelena again anyway. "It's nice to meet you, Yelena." he repeats. If she insists on ignoring him, he'll bashfully turn away from her, but gosh dang it he's a good person and he has manners.

And then she's casually threatening to maim the chef and Clark's smile shrinks again. He stares for a moment, and then takes a gentle, slow step to the side, away from Yelena. Predators only follow fast movements, right? All his attention rounds on Pepper. "Oh, I couldn't impose," he demures, "though if you insist, that grilled vegetable salad sure smelled good." He glances at Yelena, the so-called assistant. What might an assistant be hiding out in the Sarajevo for? Reaching into a carrier bag at his side, he withdraws a recorder. "If you don't mind, I'm going to record this -- just to go over later for my notes and to make sure I get everything right." He waits a moment, then clicks it on. "So, Miss Potts. I figure this is a dress rehearsal for the big man, right? So... could you give me the sales' pitch for this school? What role do you see it playing in the development of the city's children, and what do you feel is Stark Industries' responsibility to the community? Speak freely -- I promise, this isn't a hit piece."

Pepper Potts has posed:
Pepper is sharp enough to catch the slight wince on Clark's features as Yelena makes that threat and the shying away of his body from the much shorter, smaller woman. "Oh, Mr. Kent, I promise, she didn't mean it." A truth. "Her bark is far worse than her bite." A lie. But one made to give comfort. She follows it up with a reassuring, classic business smile and a sip of her own wine before she settles a bit deeper into the booth, getting ready for the interview.

"There is nothing to hit piece about, Mr. Kent, I assure you. I've sponsored several STEM wings and a full STEAM magnet school in New York City already. Metropolis is just as bustling and important a city. There is no reason their science minded students should fall behind and not have access to the same resources. So, I looked into possible grants, possible buildings, and found the perfect place for the project. Shouldn't all students, regardless of race, culture, class, OR city have access to the best STEM education possible? Do you know how distracting it is for a student to be bussed all the way from Metropolis to New York just to attend the school that most suits their academic brilliance?"

Black Widow (Belova) has posed:
Yelena Belova pays absolutely no attention to the discussion of the actual topics that Pepper and Clark have going back and forth between them. It sounds all very serious and important in the most maximally boring kind of business and bureaucratic ways. It's all she can do to avoid doing a performative and overdramatic yawn. But she doesn't want to have a reporter write it down. She's also going to talk as little as possible to keep her voice from being recorded.

She never does take the hand, but does point at her eyes and back at him in a mildly threatening fashion.

Superman has posed:
Clark has the back and shoulders of a farm-raised bull but the spirit of a mouse. As big as he is, he sits with a slouch, has difficulty making eye contact for prolonged periods, and seems sensitive to direct attention. He's meek, in a word -- even if Yelena looks small and weak next to him, the totality of his body language conveys submission to her blunt authority. He studiously doesn't look in her direction, as if worried meeting her gaze might be taken as a challenge.

"There are some who'd say Metropolis is even more bustling," he mentions, a bit of good-natured rivalry between the cities. "Though I suppose having the Tony Stark's attention is still new to us." There's that half-smile again, the reporter's nasal voice adopting the tone of a veiled fanboy. Everyone knows Tony's cool. "So you're committed to the wellbeing of the children, and keen to nurture the minds of the young? That's -- that's a beautiful sentiment, it really is. But I've heard some question the need for investment here, in Metropolis, specifically. Surely there are more needy communities; we might not have country records on all metrics, but we're pretty good, you know?"

He leans in, as if sniffing out a scoop. There's so many possibilities!

Pepper Potts has posed:
Pepper gives the smallest pause as the waiter does come back, refilling her wine but also dropping off Yelena's steak. Clark's salad will be a few minutes longer. The steak smells divine, done perfectly well and lightly spiced. The chef is either excellent, or truly scared of Yelena. Maybe both. Pepper gives her a pointed look and a little nod to the plate. "Eat up. At least you can *somewhat* enjoy yourself, Yelena. A good meal is better than the coffee at the office." She knows the woman is going half insane with this babysitting duty, especially since nothing has happened at all.

Then she's looking back to Clark with her most calm, professional smile, even as he tries to call her on the carpet about her choices in school placement. "Yes, of course. Metropolis' children are already decently well cared for compared to, say... Gotham's children. I've done the market research. But the more rural areas surrounding Metropolis are actually underserved and, because it is considered a safer part of the state than Gotham but is more affordable than New York City, has porportionally MORE families and children in need per square mile than either of the other cities. By setting up this school in busing range of the areas North and West of Metropolis, we touch double the children than we would in Gotham or the suburbs of New York. And..." Pepper smiles a little more over her wine glass, a flickering of pride on her features. "I'm applying for building permits in Gotham as well. I hope to build one final school there but the city is fighting me. It turns out they are a bit more... corrupt than our other neighbors." She tilts her head to him curiously, her eyes silently asking if that was to his satisfaction.

Black Widow (Belova) has posed:
Yelena Belova looks with saucy eyes at Pepper, "I always enjoy myself, Paprika. It is other people's pleasure I do not always permit. Mostly when they don't deserve it," she says, then adds, "I don't mean you, big American man. You seem nice. Boring but nice."

She digs into her steak with relish, letting them return to their very important discussions that Yelena doesn't give a shit about, focusing instead on the chew of the meat and the flavor of the vegetables on her plate, "This is really good, I might get a dessert. I bet this place has cheesecake, all of the nice places in America have cheesecake. Is cause Golden Girls, da? Everyone loves Golden Girls. I am like Sophia! You are like Rose, very sweet. Tony is whore like Blanche."

Superman has posed:
"Thank you, I think," Clark tells Yelena. He lets out a chuckle and a sigh that seems to deflate the tension in him, relaxing in his chair. "You too. Nice, I mean, I, I don't think you're boring. You must be too busy to be boring!" There's that half-cocked smile again, with just a touch of desperation, and then he looks back to Pepper. One hand lifts to adjust his glasses and push them up onto the bridge of his nose. The lenses now only make his eyes look even bigger.

"Something in Bakerline? Oaktown, perhaps?" Oaktown is in the far northeast of Metropolis, a traditionally low-income immigrant neighborhood. "Oh, I've heard the stories about Gotham, believe me," the reporter empathizes. "I've been there before for some stories -- had an expose on the Batman once. Well, I didn't get that article, but..." He waves a hand and laughs it off. "Personally, miss Potts, I'm really glad to see Stark Industries take an interest in the needier communities. Those kids, the ones with nothing -- sometimes I really identify with them, you know? I grew up in the midwest, myself, this little place nobody goes to. I didn't want for anything, I had a wonderful family, but... everyone's got dreams of the big city, you know? Of making it. I want the children who look over the water and see the shimmering facades of New Troy to believe they belong there, too."

Pepper Potts has posed:
The musing about the Golden Girls by Yelean gets a long smirk from Pepper. She looks almost offended, but more so amused. "I am *not* Rose. I am too smart to be Rose. I'm Dorothy, because all I'm ever doing is cleaning up after Tony, and his friends, messes. Come now. There. Mr. Kent here can be Rose. He seems very nice and is from a strange small town." She is trying to include her guard in the conversation. Partially to be polite. Partially because she does like the woman and it spices the night up rather nicely.

Then she's looking back to Clark, that precious, business-professional smile settling itself back on her features instead of the momentarily teasing smirk that Yelena got from her. "Yes. Exactly around those areas. And this is just the start. If these schools, first in Metropolis and then in Gotham, go well? This will be a blue print we use for STEM magnet schools across the country. There's your scoop, Mr. Kent. Stark Industries wants to start a nation wide program, and it's starting in your back yard. Any other questions?" His food has come now as well, and a side of salmon for Pepper. It seems she's eager to move into the casual dinner portion of this and not the on her toes questions.

Black Widow (Belova) has posed:
Yelena Belova slowly looks over at Clark, "You are Rose? You are dim-wit from farm, who is sweet in many ways but still has sex with many American men? Okay. I can believe that," she says. "I did not pick you for Dorothy because she is tall harridan bitch. But maybe you are bitch in heart. I know how can be. I too can be cruel under sweet exterior."

Superman has posed:
"That's perfect," Clark confirms, reaching out to turn off the recorder. There's no sense recording the casual conversation and making the two uncomfortable. He slips it back into the bag slung on the back of his chair. When his salad is set before him -- coincidentally, Roger has excused himself around this time, having downed an entire glass of water and then rested for a bit in awareness of his own mortality, exiting out the front -- he reaches down to grasp the fork. He really is a farm boy: he's got heavy, callused hands, and in those fingers the fork seems too small. He spears it into the salad and twists, coming up with a big ol' forkful of greens to shovel into whatever alien engine his throat connects to that converts calories directly to mass.

"Off the record, Miss Potts, this isn't a project of Stark's, is it? With no disrespect, it's a bit too... humble." He smiles. "It's something you're doing. Right?" As clumsy and country as he might be, this man did graduate from a decent university -- he's insightful and bright enough. "That really is -- "

His voice trails off. There's a moment where he seems to exist somewhere else, distracted, and then he's fumbling with his pocket and pulling out a phone. He must have had it set to vibrate, and it must be a very gentle, quiet vibrate. He answers it. "Hello? Oh, chief! Of course, but I'm -- no, I understand. I'll be right there."

He lets out a sigh and offers the two a sheepish smile. "This is rude of me, but -- I'm sorry, I have to go, I'm needed immediately. I'd love to follow up on this as soon as I can, and, um - it was nice meeting you, Yelena, but I'm afraid I don't... do *that* with any men. That's... for people you love."

He blushes, slowly rises to his feet, gathering up his things and looking sorry for it all the while. "I'll -- call you? Maybe? Gotta go thank you!"

He's waving and rushing out the door.

Later that day, Pepper and Yelena might hear talk of a car accident a few blocks away, where a big-rig trucker had a heart attack at the wheel and flipped over in the middle of traffic. Turns out the Man of Steel himself was there to stop it in its tracks, bring the driver to the hospital, and even deposit the truck somewhere safe out of the road before bolting.

Boy, wouldn't that have been more exciting to see than that lame ol' reporter?

Black Widow (Belova) has posed:
Yelena Belova shouts after Clark, "You can love men! They don't deserve it, but you can still love them!"

Pepper Potts has posed:
There is a touch of a confused tilt to Pepper's head as he is abruptly leaving. She's trying to figure out if she thinks it's rude or not, but the man just seems so earnest and nervous she can't bring it in her to be put off. "Of course, Mr. Kent. Well, it was lovely meeting you. Do be safe out there. You know my number and email for any follow ups." And then she's giving him a little wave good bye just as Yelena is calling after. Pepper nearly dies. A hot blush cuts across her cheeks as she stares back at Yelena, uncertain if she wants to laugh or go die. "I can't take you anywhere, can I?" She mutters teasingly, before finally settling into her salmon.

She never did answer that last question about the project. EAs never tell.