14205/Green on the Hudson

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Green on the Hudson
Date of Scene: 17 March 2022
Location: Yacht, circling Manhattan Island
Synopsis: St Patrick's Day turned a few people green in different ways.
Cast of Characters: Iron Man, Pepper Potts, Superman, Red Robin, Dracula, Captain America, Black Widow (Belova)




Iron Man has posed:
St Patrick's Day in New York City. The City That Never Sleeps will be earning its nickname tonight; all the clubs are open, vying for customers in every way they know how. Free drinks, games, music, contests.. name it, and it's probably happening somewhere. For the more well-heeled, the parties are being held in slightly different venues, though no less celebratory. Museums are having their gatherings, the myriad of Hibernian clubs, their own, and, of course, so is Tony Stark.

The yacht is decorated in festive green lights, decorations abound, and the waitresses have their own abbreviated costumes of 'leprechaun'. A DJ plays tunes within one of the larger club sections, a dinner buffet is set out in one of the smaller sections. Anywhere one goes, there is music, food, and alcohol. Lots of it.

The boat is packed with guests; models, actresses, politicians of note (and some not so much), and business associates of Stark Industries.. all mingle, mix and match. In the middle of it, Tony is dressed in suit, tie; semi-formal for the beginning of the evening, with a drink in his hand. He's surrounded by a gaggle of young, way too attentive women who probably started their drinking a few hours prior to arrival. He laughs, takes a swallow of his drink, and looks around the room, past the guests for something, or someone.

Pepper Potts has posed:
Pepper is not directly next to Tony. She might *want* to be, but how could she get close with the gaggle of young women and models around him? Therefore, she's observing from one of the upper decks, a glass of barely touched champange in her hands. She's worried. There are too many people on this boat to keep track of, someone still wants Tony dead, and she can't get within five feet of him. She just continues to watch.

She is dressed for the night. Vaguely. A lovely black dress in a 1950s cocktail style trimmed with emerald green velvet. An antigue emerald four leaf clover broach rests across her left breast. The dress has an elegant boat neck to it, showing off her decollatage and the choker around her slender throat. It's alternating emeralds and diamonds, all tiny, just a glittering bit of the sky on her throat. She finally remembers to take a small sip of her champagne, sighing quietly.

Superman has posed:
"Y-you think so, miss? I'd -- well, gosh, I'd say I'm sham-rocking this hat!"

The pinched and nasally voice of Clark Kent flits along the salty breeze, announcing the country boy to the world. He's standing beneath a throng of green lights next to an exceptionally drunk older woman flattered to be called miss, her arm currently wrapped around his shoulders. Her fascination with the normally dweebish reporter is made apparent at a glance: someone's plucked the bull right off the farm and shoved him into a tight, well-fitting suit, one designed to flatter his back and shoulders rather than mask them. The effect on his rear end is flattering, as well, though the man's poor posture and utterly submissive body language, and those oversized, eye-inflating glasses, still make him appear as much a loser as he could built like that.

There's only one problem: the suit is a bright green and speckled with shamrocks on all sides, while his white undershirt clings to his thick neck beneath an apple green bow tie.

Upon the man's heavy head, practically covering his eyes, is an enormous, conical green hat, itself printed with shamrocks and, more importantly, decorated in actual hand-plucked shamrocks. It's comically large and comically pointy.

"Ahaha!" The aging actress remarks, her hand upon his chiseled butt. "Sham-rocking! Why, you remind me of my son's friend..."

Clark blanches.

Red Robin has posed:
Tim Drake has been tasked to make an appearance at the party since Bruce has other things he has to do. He is wearing one of his normal high end black suits, but for tonight instead of the normal red accents, he has gone for green. He made his arrival in one of the fancier cars, but drove himself giving Alfred a bit of a break, or at least help another of the Bat Brood. He waves and smiles to any paparazzi as they are always there outside Tony's parties. Now, that the boat is sailing about, Tim has decided to make the rounds seeing who he can. He pauses a bit when he sees Clark, and is oh so tempted to pull his phone out and send a pic to Bruce, but he respects Clark, even if the outfit makes it harder to do so.

Dracula has posed:
Once upon a time, St. Patrick's Day hadn't existed as a celebratory day of Irish culture. St. Patrick himself wasn't even Irish. Such a thing amuses Vlad on some level, though perhaps a part of that is also from the fact that he was alive when this celebration was first declared. Mist creeps across the water and towards the yacht, seemingly undisturbed by any of the lights that are strung up for the celebration. The mist swirls up from where it seems to hover above the water as though to come aboard the yacht itself. There, it seems to simply swirl and grow darker for a moment, tendrils of it coiling like writhing serpents amongst each other.

The mist seems to thicken for a moment, and then from within the darkness of it steps a man. Nearly six and a half feet tall, he wears a black of slightly heeled black leather boots, black dress slacks, and a long-sleeved button up black silk shirt with a black paisley pattern imposed on it. There's a crimson pocket square neatly tucked into his shirt pocket, and a long black peacoat worn about his shoulders, the garment falling to his knees. There is a hint of a smile that touches at the corners of his lips as his dark brown gaze flicks lightly across the yacht. Ah, such delights! Such delicious little sheep. Dracula makes a slight gesture of his left hand, and the mist that had been is banished.

Captain America has posed:
    Amongst the tableau of celebrity Steve Rogers is not one to be at sixes and sevens. At least not anymore. With the years in the Avengers and the times spent in the lime light he's gained an ease of moving through a crowd, smiling and accepting attention, shaking hands when offered. But those are times when the draw is primarily him. At such an event as this where the eyes and cameras are drawn to the brilliance and the beautiful it leaves fewer for him.
    Which is just how he likes it.
    Likely when he crossed the gangplank any number of Stark Systems were made aware of his presence. Likely in the future there's a datamap detailing exactly how long he circulated around the edge of things (14 minutes). How many times he smiled politely (17). How often he waved off a champagne flute offered by the leprechaun waitresses (3 times). No handshakes offered, yet at least. But all of it, Tony might be pleased to see in the breakdown, was leading him in the direction of Stark.
    Which ends with his voice raising, "Nice party, Tony." Even as two of those young women look away from the circle around Stark and see the tall blond man standing there with that easily given smile. Not exactly dressed up beyond black slacks and a green dress shirt, his coat was checked upon arrival.

Iron Man has posed:
Not finding the one person Tony was looking for across the crowds of fans, he isn't even listing to the nattering, but rather, smiling, nodding and looking as if he //is// paying full attention. It's a gift, really, and the moment he catches a glimpse of someone else, Tony makes the announcement to the gaggle gathered, "Oh hey, look who it is, Captain Rogers." He slides between a couple of decidedly scantily-dressed ladies to extricate himself, and perhaps throw Steve to the wolves as a sacrifice.

After all, what are friends for?

The music on the deck booms loudly, the bass making the deck vibrate. Another swallow of his drink is taken, and as a tray moves by, he's putting his near empty in order to take two, one in each hand.

"Thanks.. thought a little something should be done. Have you met Casey?" A blonde is following him; Steve may or may not recognize the young woman as a supposed 'up and coming actress'. (Her agent got her the invite as a boost to her career.) "She was amazing in... what was it?" Tony looks back at the woman, and she bubbles up helpfully, "Beware the birds..", Pointing at the blonde, Tony snaps, and looks back at Steve, "That. Amazing. Was up for Cannes. Really. If the Academy doesn't pick it up, she'll be robbed."

Uh huh..

Guests! Time to mingle.

Superman has posed:
"Ma'am, I think you've had a bit too much to drink," Clark observes, giving a startled jump as the veteran starlet's painted fingernails grab at him. He scoots forward, away from her roaming hand, and in the process of escape he bumps into a man standing before him. The big lug's mass is enough to make the moneyed elite stumble and spill his drink over his own suit.

"Watch where you're going, you dumb -- "

"Oh, don't be so shy, you strapping buck. Come here and make me feel young again, just grab me and -- "

Clark's eyes widen to shocked discs at the next profanity to slip slurred from the painted woman's lips, and even the poor fella Clark smacked into forgets his anger in sheer shock at such words.

"In vino veritas," Clark stammers, beet-red beneath all the green. "I'm f-f-flattered, ma'am, but, I have this pet, and it's sick --"

"Ohhh, do you like having pets?"

Clark looks tormented, his eyes scanning across the crowds. He spies Tim first, and then the mist from which emerges a man like Aphrodite from the foam.

"I'm going to throw up," Clark suddenly lies, pushing past the offended man and leaving him to be the newest target of the lush. Our resident leprechaun, however, flings himself toward a rail and hangs over it, seasick.

Yes. Definitely seasick.

Pepper Potts has posed:
As Pepper catches sight of Steve coming on board the board, a smile blooms across her lips and she straightens up a bit. She gives him a little wave from where she is on the upper deck but it's very likely she's lost in the crowd, especially as Steve approaches the party around Tony. It's a gaggle of chaos and gorgeous women. She then does a double take in the direction of the far side of the boat. She swears the tall, handsome man with the red pocket square wasn't there before. But everyone had to go through security to get on here. Her smile falters a bit but, if she manages to catch his eyes, she does give him a little tilt of her head in greeting.

Then she catches sight of Clark moving a bit too quickly through the crowd to the side of the boat. She can't really tell that it's a ruse and she's a generally worried person, so she double times it on her high heels over to his side, "Oh! Oh goodness, Mr. Kent, are you... are you alright? Do you need some ginger ale, perhaps? I hope that woman wasn't bothering you. Just take a breath. It's alright, boats aren't for everyone..." While Tony is the mingling, fun, social host, Pepper does her best to be the logistics hostess.

Red Robin has posed:
Tim Drake makes his way over to Clark. He grabs two sparkling waters along the way and once he is near the sick man "Mr. Kent, I did not expect to see you here. Here, this water should help a bit." He offers the man one of the glasses. He will wait for Clark to get ahold of himself, and says softly looking out over the water. "I was wondering if I needed to come save you there for a moment." He knows the other man's hearing will pick it up.

Captain America has posed:
    One of those smiles is meant just for Pepper as he had approached Tony's aforementioned throng. But then he's set as a distraction.
    It's a role Steve is used to, though the half-smile shows he's aware of it as Tony ever so subtly starts to extricate. And being who he is, Steve steps into it and just so casually puts himself in the path of at least a few of those within the gaggle of gals.
    "Beware the Birds," Captain Rogers echoes even as Tony is making his way toward the mingling. "I've not seen that yet, still working on Mr. Eastwood's films. I'm at Unforgiven. What's your show about?"
    And as easy as that he fills the role and duty. He even has that maintenance of aim needed for a good distraction as he's not drawn away from his duty by the ruckus nearby.

Iron Man has posed:
Popularity is a wonderful thing. Having a good wingman?

Priceless.

It allows Tony that chance to slip out, glad-handing all along the way. He's got the two glasses, taking swallows from the one, using the second as an excuse to keep moving, citing that he's delivering it to someone. And that someone, he's not entirely certain as to where she's gotten to. There are, at a minimum, a hundred people in attendance, all flowing between the rooms, the deck; some at the bow to watch the progress around the City, some at the sides to look at either Jersey or the lights of New York.

Dracula has posed:
Beware the birds, did he hear? Vlad slightly tilts his head to one side, and he lifts his left hand to snag a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waitress. She doesn't seem to notice that he did, and he lifts the glass a moment later to drink the contents in one go and then the glass simply vanishes. Gone as though it had never existed. "Under alcohol's fine influence, the truth will be spoken," comments the vampire in a dark and silky tone of voice. He's amused, and that can sometimes make things interesting.

His gaze passes further and catches that of the redheaded Pepper Potts, and there is a smile that tugs up the corners of his lips. And then, perhaps unexpectedly, he gives a flourish of a bow, the gesture smooth and graceful and fluid. After straightening, he makes a slight gesture of his left hand, and a glass vanishes from a tray before appearing within his hand, and he lifts it to take a sip of the contents, appearing to savour them for a moment. His gaze turns briefly to look out of the water, and his tongue flicks out to damp his lips. 'Beware the Birds', hmm? A crow wings its way towards the ship and lands upon a deck railing, then caws. A second wings its way to join it within only moments. Then three more fly up to perch. Dracula doesn't look to them at all but instead, he watches the people here. He lifts the glass and takes a sip of the liquid within the glass.

Superman has posed:
Clark Kent is practically half-overboard, curled around the rail like it's a fierce barbarian and he's literally every woman ever on a metal album cover. The way he shudders, and breathes, makes it clear he's battling some form of nausea -- and with every spluttering exhale, his head bobs, the comically oversized cone hat bouncing as he does so. It's almost artful how it magnifies every small movement of his head, its shamrock point jutting out toward the night sky and wiggling.

"I'm okay," he declares as Pepper rushes to check on him. "I don't think I've got my sea legs yet," he continues, sitting down now with his back to the rail. "Or my champagne stomach." Then Tim's entering stage left like the hero he is, a sparkling water offered. He brings it to his mouth to rinse out the taste of bile and swallows noisily as Tim mutters something for his ears only.

Clark's eyes gleam beneath the shadowy brim of his goofy green hat.

"Thank you both. I just -- I just need to catch my breath, I think. These parties! These guests! Gosh, I think Mrs. Amrita has had..." A beat. "... far too much to keep track of. How are the both of you doing?"

Pepper Potts has posed:
It seems that Clark is being handled by Tim, and Pepper gives the other guest a thankful, respectful smile. She is always happy to not be the only one playing logistics and organizing the messes that always happen behind the scenes at a party. "...Thank you, Mr. Drake, is it?" Pepper is fairly certain she knows every guest here. She's been studying them, after all. "If you could stay with him, just until he's got his sea legs, I'd be most appreciative. Anything you need, please, ask the staff. Either of you." Pepper reassures them both, but she seems to think it's under control enough that she can check in on some others.

She steps across the upper deck, possibly coming in sight of Tony if she is who he is looking for, a beautiful hourglass shape trimmed in green on the night, but it's Dracula she's moving to greet. She smiles to the strange man, especially as he makes the champange glass disappear and appear. A gentle chuckle escapes her throat, "I didn't realize Tony hired a magician. I suppose that explains the suit! Quite dapper, properly old fashioned. I like it. If you want to check in with the rest of the entertainment, they're on the first deck. But, do enjoy the champange!"

Red Robin has posed:
Tim Drake starts to say something but nods to Pepper and says "Will do." As she leaves he will look to Clark, and says "I need to see if I can get Mr. Stark to sign something for me, got a piece of one his suits, that was broken off in a fight." He will fish out a small piece of metal that is red colored a little bigger than a credit card. "I figure it will look better with his signature on it." Tim has been known as a bit of a hero FanBoy, spending a nice chunk of change now and again at charity auctions and such for items like this. "Perhaps you can explain to her, you need to do some legwork for a article your writing on wayne corp."

Dracula has posed:
There is an upwards quirk of one of his eyebrows at Pepper's words, and a smile that tugs just at the corners of his lips. "I assure you, I am no hired performer, my dear," he says softly, his voice rich and dark. He gives a soft chuckle and lifts his free hand to make a slight gesture. "I suppose it is a touch old fashioned. Would you prefer it to be something more updated or something perhaps older fashioned yet?" he asks, a touch of curiosity to his voice. Which isn't to say what she prefers will happen, but he asks out of curiosity. He is more than capable of either.

A smile tugs up the corners of his lips, and he offers his right hand. "Vladimir Tepes the third," he offers by way of introducing himself. Meanwhile, a trio of additional crows have come to perch upon the railing with their brethren, and their are occassionally raucous cries from the increasing murder of them. He slightly tilts his head to one side, then moves his left hand a touch. The glass vanishes, and a moment later there's a long stemmed crimson and black rose there. He releases the rose from his fingers, but it doesn't fall, the flower instead remaining hovering in the air for a moment before it floats towards her, and these bits of magic are effortlessly done on his part.

Superman has posed:
"Thank you, Miss Potts," Clark says, raising a hand in a grateful wave to Pepper as she departs. His fingers flutter and then his hand falls to his knee, fingertips lightly dancing over the shamrock print. Amidst the illusion of seasickness, he leans back and closes his eyes momentarily, breathing deep through the nose and out through the mouth. He can taste the air itself, smell every scent on it, hear the beating of every single heart upon this ship -- and as the mist-born man introduces himself, from his side of the boat Clark turns and stares. Beneath his penetrating gaze, clothes become translucent, muscle and tissue fade away, all life reduced to animated skeletons, pacemakers, hip replacements, and similar bone-deep details.

He's scanning Dracula, of course, looking for signs of life or weirdness. Is he a magician? That mist looked awful real, but Clark has never been the go-to magic guy.

"Huh? A signature..? Oh, right, Tim, I'd, uh, I'd be happy to." Even if the one before him knows the truth of his identity, Clark plays the role. "Right. We'll talk to Miss Potts and see if she'll help convince Mr. Stark. I'm sure she'd be happy to -- we just need a bit of elbow grease and old-fashioned charm."

He offers Tim a reassuring thumbs up.

Iron Man has posed:
Once out in the open, Tony catches a glimpse of Pepper as she crosses the deck. Off to the side, is that.. what? Who? Kent? Brows rise and there's a brief chuffed laugh at the costume chosen. Points, definitely points for style.

Siding sideways to get around two groups of party-goers, he's trying to make it to the ladder to go up a level, but is caught,

"Mr Stark, Tony.. have you met my wife?" Caught, again.. and Tony turns, looking like he's going to use the alcohol as the excuse to slide out.

"Hey, Senator Kant," Tony slows to a halt, and the next time he looks up, she's out of his view. Lost her.. and he brings his attention back down once more. "Glad you could make it. No, I don't think we've met." Turning to his guests, there's the million dollar smile, and he stage-whispers, "He's really just a pussycat at home, isn't he." The Senator has been known to be.. difficult at times. It's not personal, right?

"Mr Stark," Mrs Kant begins, her own smile showing the ,, enthusiasm of meeting someone who may be, arguably, more famous than the President of the United States. "I'm dying to know what we're going to see from you next. I keep asking Mark," the Senator, "but he won't tell me."

Tony offers that quick smile, shrugs, "Watch the papers?" It'll all be there.. "Now, if you'll excuse me.. I need to find.."

Pepper Potts has posed:
The elegantly dressed man, as he says he's not a magician, gets a slightly surprised look from Pepper. A blush stretches across her cheeks, carefully made up to hide most of her freckles, and she gives him an awkward smile, "Sorry, I'm sorry. I... shouldn't have assumed. I just... I'm not used to our party guests doing magic for their own amusement. But it certainly caught my attention. And your outfit is incredibly handsome. It suits you perfectly." She smiles wider, delicate fingertips stretched out to offer her hand for a brief shake, and then to take the rose.

"Virginia Potts, but... you can just call me Miss Potts, or Pepper, either is... fine. And that is, well... That's quite lovely. Thank you, Mr. Tepes. If you need anything at all, just wave to me or any of our lovely waitresses. We're all here to just make certain you enjoy your time at Mr. Stark's party." She offers the normal company line, even if she's still a bit blushed, and then begins to step away. She's entirely missed the birds, she's too worried about people having fun and watching them.

Red Robin has posed:
Tim Drake may not be the worlds best detective, or even the world's best human detective, but he is got a nice spot on the list. He has been taught to pay attention to thins, and the crows, do get the boy with the bird code name's attention. He hmms scanning about and notices Clark checking someone one. He starts subtly patting himself down as if hunting something before pulling out the piece of metal he was speaking about. The patting really him doing inventory of what gadgets he has hid on himself in his civis.

Dracula has posed:
There's a rich chuckle that rises past Dracula's lips, and he inclines his head towards Pepper. "There is naught to apologize for, I assure you," he says softly, a warm note to his voice. "There are all manner of assumptions and presumptions that are made of me, and I do not mind them," he adds, sounding a touch amused. Some of them are more flattering than others, and all of them have a way of adding to his reputation, in their own ways. "It is for my amusement and that of those who might wish to notice it and give it attention," he comments, a thoughtful note to his voice.

Vlad inclines his head towards her, and a smile turns at the corners of his lips. "Thank you, my dear. It is most kind of you to say," he says softly. "You are looking quite lovely tonight." His words, it might be noted, have an accent to them -- it may seem Hungarian-adjacent, but it is in reality much older in origin. He gently claims her hand and, rather than shake it, he lifts it to lightly brush his lips upon the back of it. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Potts," he says. There is a moment of pause whilst he studies her, and then he inclines his head towards her. "Though it is lovely, it is pale in comparison to you," he adds. While he speaks, an additional half dozen crows has come to settle upon that same railing, all of them in a neat little row. The caw, they squabble, they fuss with each other, they shift their wings and they move. They watch and they stare. One of them wings down from the railing to the deck, snatching a stray bite of food that ended up there, and that brings up raucous cries from of the others.

Superman has posed:
Clark grasps the rail with a white-knuckled grip and hefts himself up. He'd swear the deck lurches ever-so-slightly as the yacht cuts through the dark waters around the island, but with a moment's focus and a few meditative breaths he catches his second wind. "I haven't been on a boat in a hot minute," he admits. "You never do get used to it." He smiles for the crowd, rubs a hand along the back of his wide neck, and looks out once more around the deck. He's scanning for Pepper, the handsy drunk woman, and anything else of interest before he wobbles forward on shaky legs that stabilize with each step.

"I've always loved magicians," he mentions to Tim as the two walk in search of Pepper once more. "When I was a boy, Pa took me up to Wichita, once. Air capital of the world, doncha know!" He beams proudly, teeth practically gleaming. And then he looks overboard and the smile falters, once more keenly aware he's on a boat. "I saw this man -- the Great Ravioli. Absolutely fantastic act, he was performing out of his van in the parking lot of an Aldis. Pulled two rabbits out of a hat and then got sawed in half. Never saw him again after that."

Iron Man has posed:
How to gnaw one's arm off when stuck in a beat trap? Easy. It's just a repeat performance, only Steve isn't the lucky recipient. Casey is still undoubtedly regaling the good Captain Rogers with her acting prowess, and how the Academy couldn't possibly miss this one. That the birds used..

Birds.

The sleek, black feathered birds are noticed, particularly as one swoops down to score some freshly cooked and chilled shrimp and bring it back to its brethren, or rather, to show it off. A frown crosses Tony's face, though it quickly disappears as he catches his name being mentioned in that conversation with the Senator and wife. She's wrapping a hand around his elbow, and what is she..

"No, no.." He does still have that drink. "If.. uh.. you'll excuse me, I have to find and greet Mr Hitchcock." Where there's one crow, there's many.

Why would there be crows? Even seagulls aren't this brazen; not when they're doing a pretty good clip; not too slow, not too fast. When they make the circuit of Manhattan, the party should be winding down, and a smaller 'after party' should be starting.

Taking the stairs, Tony catches sight of Clark first, with the smaller (everyone is smaller next to Kent!), and there, just beyond, he catches sight of the elusive Pepper, with.. and he narrows his eyes. Doesn't know who the guy is, but that's not strange for any of his parties. It's enough that everyone knows who he is, and that they have a good time.. if they can remember it, that is.

Pepper Potts has posed:
Pep is not used to being this popular, especially at Tony's parties. Hell, some of the girls on the base deck refer to Pepper as 'Pepper Party Pooper' because she's often the one cleaning up the messes at the end of the night and escorting Tony's one night stands out in the morning. It doesn't make her popular with the party crowd. But now her hand is being kissed by that man and her blush only deepens. She clears her throat quietly, "You are... quite the gentlemen, Vlad. Thank you. It's hard to dress tastefully on this holiday, but... I did my best." She does manage to pull off class even surrounded by so much garishness. Then she's looking up, blinking at those birds. She's finally noticed them. "Lots of.. birds out tonight. Strange. They must be hungry. I'm sorry if they bother you, I can... try and get the Captain to speed up, away from the flock." It really was odd, they aren't bothered by such a crowd. She gives him an awkward smile then is looking back to the rest of the party.

That's when she catches sight of the trio nearing them. Clark, Tim, and Tony behind. Her smile softens to see Tony, her body relaxing by inches, probably visibly to people with any sort of super sense. She feels better in his presence. She gives the trio a little wave.

Red Robin has posed:
Tim Drake hmms and will look to Clark "The rabbits or the Magician?" He hmms and clarifies "Which was cut in half?" It is a small town in Kansas and a guy preforming out of a van he could have been making dinner. He considers slipping something onto the DJ stand as they pass, but now Tony is coming up, and he does not have a window to do it without being seen, he will hold his hand and follow Clark's lead.

Superman has posed:
"Oh, the Great Ravioli," Clark clarifies. "I don't think he was, erm, licensed. And it probably wasn't safe to have him around children, or adults, or even the rabbits -- he was very drunk, as was his assistant. But all's well that ends well. We saw a free magic show, the rabbits ran into the store, and I learned that magic is a wonderful thing."

Look, he grew up in small-town Kansas with parents who couldn't even explain what computers are, let alone purchased one. Entertainment is a precious thing.

"Miss Potts, hello again. I wanted to thank you for checking on me, I'm feeling much better now -- and I wanted to thank you for putting in a good word with Mr. Stark, he gave me a moment of his time personally a few days later. It's going to be a front-page story."

He smiles all lopsided once more, peeking out toward Dracula and the birds. That's a really nifty act. "I hate to impose, but could you do a favor for me? My friend here, Tim, he's a great kid. Huge fan of Iron Man. He's got a little bit of memorabilia, and... " It's at this point Tony draws near the group, first announced by the particular cadence of his footfalls and the quiet presence of the Arc Reactor. Clark turns, looks at Pepper's eyes, and then turns further, now seeing Tony with his eyes.

"Mr. Stark! This is a lovely shin-dig, you've really outdone yourself. I hate to impose, but my friend here, he's a huge fan, and I promised I'd ask... would you sign his junk?"

Clark purses his lips.

"His metal, I mean."

Dracula has posed:
It is perhaps a strange thing. The crows, and the fact that they seem to keep coming. More of them, by ones or by twos, and they line up on the railing of the ship or on other perchable points that are nearby. They watch and they stare and they seem to wait. For something, perhaps, or perhaps simply for nothing. It's hard to say. They're birds, after all. They are a fairly brazen murder of the creatures, and where one of them found food, now the rest of them wait to do similarly.

If Vlad notices the birds at all, he pays them no mind at all. He doesn't even glance in their direction, for his attention is upon Pepper. His name was definitely not on the guest list, and yet -- here he is, in the very flesh. Vlad chuckles softly, and then he inclines his head towards Pepper, his dark eyes showing a touch of amusement in them. "I suppose that I am, sometimes. It could be said that it was ingrained into me at a young age, perhaps," he says, a thoughtful tone to his voice. "You are most welcome, and I assure you, you have dressed most tastefully, Miss Potts, I assure you," he adds, giving a small nod to her. It's only when Pepper mentions the birds that he glances towards them before giving a small nod. "So it would seem, indeed," he agrees, his attention easily turning back to her. He lifts a hand in a slight gesture, then shakes his head briefly. "It takes more than a murder of crows to disturb me. They are no bother to me," he comments.

"Do the crows bother you, Miss Potts?" he asks, a gentle note of curiosity to his voice. Some of the crows pace a bit, and one of them gives a loud caw and ruffles its wings. His gaze turns to Clark, who has approached, and he studies the fellow for a moment as he listens. He chuckles softly, and then he lifts his left hand to summon a flute of champagne to his hand -- it vanished from a waitresses tray and reappeared in his hand. Then he takes a sip of it, watching Pepper.

Iron Man has posed:
For as much as Pepper relaxes the moment she sees Tony hove into view, there's a barely perceptible change of manner and mien when he sees her. It's hard to spot, but if one knows what to look for, it is there.

And so close, yet so far! Tony is waylaid once again, stopped before he can make it to 'journey's end' as it were. He offers her a quick smile, before he turns to Kent, both of those glasses in hand, still.

"What can I do for you, Mr Kent?" He's friendly, giving the man the courtesy of knowing that his name was //not// forgotten in the few days between the first time they'd met and now. "I... do you mind? I want.."

It's not the way he wanted to hand it off; not the way to show Pepper that he'd actually considered her and wanted to be sure she was able to relax, if only for a few minutes. There are things that are expected, and here is a fan.. 'huge fan', that is.

"Okay, kid.. what do you have?" What it is depends on what he's going to use- pen, marker..

"Uh.. Pepper?" Tony looks back over to her, and Dracula is there.. "Can you.." he begins, "Just take one of these, please.. I got it for you, but.." there's no time. At least he has the grace to look a little apologetic, complete with shrug..

He'll talk with Dracula in a moment..

Black Widow (Belova) has posed:
Yelena Belova had been sleeping below deck, a combination of seasickness pills, vodka and Xanax putting her out like a light early on. She didn't mind, she was 'off duty' at the moment, since Tony himself was around to protect Pepper and since Yelena wasn't super thrilled about seeing Tony's face. Even if she understood why he'd fired her, she still wanted to kick him in the balls just on principle for general pride. But his balls were probably fusion powered vibranium spheres as far as she could tell.

But now she makes her way up from below deck, wearing a relatively short skirt in white with a long-sleeved top, leaving her muscled arms bared a bit as she looks around, making a beeline for Pepper and then pausing for a moment and pointing a finger at Clark Kent, "Oh, I remember you. Reporter man, big shoulders. How are you being doing?"

Red Robin has posed:
Tim Drake will reach into his jacket pocket, and pulls out a piece of metal, Tony will recognize it as a small piece of one of his armor plates, no electronics in it, so no worries there. He also pulls out a gold sharpie. "I bought this a while back, and since I was coming I had hoped to get you to sign it, sorry it became a big thing. " He offers both to Tony and says "I am Tim Drake-Wayne." The last added on almost as an after thought but there. "Bruce could not make it, and asked me to come and at least make sure the family and Wayne tech were there for their sometime competitor, sometime rival sometime ally, depending on the project of course."

Pepper Potts has posed:
The gracious motions by Vlad are enough to mostly distract her; the man whose name is definitely not on the list and Pepper is trying to wrack her brain for how he could have gotten in here. Pepper keeps that smile in place, giving an awkward blink up towards the birds and then back towards him, "I... I don't know, I don't think our guests love it when bird steal their food. Though I know corvids are incredibly intelligent creatures, they weren't invited to the *party*, Mr. Tepes." Those last few words are said with a subtle press behind them, the implication being that Pepper knows he wasn't either and she's rather curious how he got here.

Then Tony is pressing a drink into her hand as he handles Clark and Tim. She blinks, attention momentarily torn. "What? Oh... well, yes... for me? Oh. Yes. I'll take it." He gets that odd, awkward smile from her as well, some edge of sad hope behind her gaze as she stares at him for a heartbeat or two. But he's busy. She forces her eyes back away and another smile is given to Vlad as she raises her glass to him and takes a small sip of champange.

Superman has posed:
Clark seems like a well-meaning oaf, big-hearted but clumsy; this goes for his social presence, as much as it does physical. The moment's desired intimacy between Pepper and Tony is obviously being interrupted, but if Tim needs an autograph for some reason, then by God, Clark Kent will help him out. Still...

"Thank you, Mr. Stark," the big green ox praises, giving Tim a clap on the back to usher him forward. "There you go, Tim. And be sure to thank Mr. Stark, he's very -- "

At this point, once more, Clark swears he can feel a lurch in the ship's movement. He's no salty seadog, and he brings a hand to his mouth, covering it delicately with mild panic. There's just enough time for Tim to say something and get his autograph before, conveniently, Clark feigns an attack of queasiness. His eyes cut to Tim once, and then he turns his head and barrels forth past the group -- coincidentally, in his rampage toward the rails once more, he absolutely bulldozes a few political hopefuls, moneyed blue bloods, and sycophantic fans keen to bother the inestimable Iron Man; indeed, the crowd all but flees from the sight of a veritable hunched-over giant leprechaun in a hat large enough to be considered a weapon, both hands clasped over his mouth and his eyes wide with nauseated panic.

This also happens to bring him charging right into the murder of crows and right past Yelena, who gets no acknowledgment save the sound of Clark Kent gagging and wretching into the water.

The things he does for people.

Iron Man has posed:
Yelena's entrance gains Tony's attention, it's there and gone as he listens to Tim. He rolls his head back slightly, before coming together for a nod of acknowledgment. "Well, sometimes ally, sometimes rival," Competitor, he'll leave off, but that's sheer ego talking, "Mr Drake-Wayne." The pen, though.. Tony shakes his head, his now free hand waving briefly, "I don't like it when people hand me things.." and he straightens up, taking a breath. Twisting around to get Pepper's attention, she's toasting the guy he doesn't know. "Right. Just.. uh.."

When Clark begins to feel the swells of the boat under his feet, or appears to, and bolts, Tony could swear that the man should have been a linebacker.. clearing the path, as it were, and having everyone who was considering taking up a 'little' of Tony's time thing twice.

Then, there's the birds.

Finally, Tony relents with a phrase that Pepper's heard many times in her tenure with him, "Uh.. Pepper? Little hand here, please?" He looks beyond, at Tepes, and quick smiles, sorry not sorry. He puts a hand up in that 'one moment' gesture.

His tones grow a touch louder, however, as he calls out to any of his ship-employees, "And can someone get these birds off the boat? We're going to go into overtime cleaning up after the party. Bad enough they have to clean up after the guests..." He lowers his voice to something more conversational as he follows it up with, "Not you, Kent. You're fine."

Pepper Potts has posed:
This is all incredibly odd. The party has been going well, but poor Kent clearly doesn't have his sea legs, Tim is still here with Fan Memoribilia, Pepper has no clue how this Vlad got on board, and there are still so many birds. She gives Yelena a brief wave as the woman disappears into the crowd to be a properly good body guard, and then is looking back to Tony. She finally just knocks back an entire glass of the champange Tony handed her and sets it aside so she can scamper forward and take the piece of metal from Tim. She smiles to the young man. "Here... I ... I'll just hold this..."

Pepper holds the metal properly and then hands the pen in the exact angle Tony likes so he can, at least, put two quick initials of a signature on it. "Just a brief signature, Tony." Just like she does with contracts every day. She holds it in place until he signs and then she's handing it back to Tim with a beaming, respectful smile, "There you go. All signed. Something to remember. Now, get yourself a drink! Relax, Enjoy yourself!"

Red Robin has posed:
Tim Drake smiles and takes the item "Thank you." He will tell them. He looks over and says "I believe most birds are not fans of loud music, so you might have the DJ's kick up the volume." He offers before heading to check on Kent.

Superman has posed:
Clark is still dutifully wed to the railing and the water. He mumbles some sort of vague affirmation when people speak to him or acknowledge him, but he's out of it.

Dracula has posed:
The Lord of the Vampires is aware of Tony Stark's presence, he simply chooses not to make it obvious that he is. There's a laugh from the man, and he inclines his head slightly towards her at her words. Clark's attempted interruption doesn't cause them to leave, so much as it causes them to relocate further down the railing or to other perchable places. Interesting, perhaps. "Indeed, I would rather suspect they would not appreciate it," he comments, a thoughtful note to his voice. He lifts his right hand and makes a slight gesture, winks at Pepper, and then glances towards the crows. "Shoo," he whispers softly.

One of them, the first that had arrived, gives a loud caw, then flaps up into the air. And the others? They follow within but a few short moments, peeling off in the order in which they had originally arrived. A flurry of wings and screeches and other bird noises, and the occassional flutter of a black feather or two to fall softly down to the deck of the ship.

Dracula turns his attention back to Pepper, and he inclines his head slightly towards her. Then he lifts his glass to take a drink of his champagne, savouring the bubbly drink. If he had influenced them to arrive in the first place, there is no sign of it in him at all. Yet they do his bidding by leaving like some vile dark cloud of bird-flesh. "Tell me... do these fetes happen often?" he asks, a touch of curiosity to his voice.

It's then that Dracula looks to Tony Stark, and he tilts his head a touch to one side, then lifts a hand to gesture slightly towards where the crows had been. "They have passed, it would seem. Such a strangeness, would you not agree?" he suggests. Nevermind that he entirely caused it to happen, but such is the way of a creature such as Vlad -- he does as he pleases, when he pleases, and often does it how he pleases as well.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony looks up to meet Pepper's green eyes, and he nods, a quick smile, there and gone is given before the initials are given and the pen is put away. "There you go. Get your couple hundred dollars off of ebay, or hold it for a year, and it'll double in price." //Triple if I'm dead.//

"Hey, Kent, buddy, you okay?" There's a brief sound of concern that comes from Tony that is tossed in Clark's direction. He lingers, watching and making sure before he nods, more to the thoughts in his own head than anything from without.

Finally, Tony is able to actually drink the champagne from the flute, and he finally takes those couple of steps to come to Pepper's side. A free hand moves to rest just at the small of her back, should she not move out of the way that is.

"Neat bird trick. My crew thanks you for getting rid of them. I wasn't looking forward to cleaning up feathers off the deck if they didn't leave." He smiles tightly, lips forming a fine line. He's used to people showing up that he doesn't know, he really is. But now? Brows rise, and Tony isn't even pretending, "I'm sorry.. do I know you from somewhere, because I don't think I recognize you, or at least if it was at another party, remember you." Always the slight self-deprecating.

"Parties are pretty regular thing for me. It's what I do. Some people think too much," Beat, "Pepper," and he continues, "So, you are...?"

Pepper Potts has posed:
As the birds finally flit off, like that first one commanded them all, Pepper stares at the sky for a few confused heartbeats. That shouldn't happen. Then she's looking back to Dracula, her mind just about to put something together, when she feels a familiar warmth against her back. Tony's hand. She shifts a bit closer into his touch, leaning near enough that her side is touching his. She doesn't say anything, letting the two gentlemen speak, but she's taking the chance to just lean against Tony and enjoy it before someone pulls them both away again.

Dracula has posed:
There is the slightest upwards quirk of an eyebrow as Tony steps up behind Pepper to put a hand to the small of her back, and he inclines his head slightly towards the fellow. He drinks the rest of his champagne, then makes a slight gesture of his fingers which causes the glass to apparently vanish from his fingers. "They were of a mind to listen," Vlad comments, a touch of amusement to his voice. That they'd already been listening to him was a useful factor to start with. "It is likely that they would not have stayed for very much longer," he muses, a thoughtful note to his voice.

Dracula chuckles softly, and then he gives a slight shake of his head. "We have not met before, and you have no reason to know me directly," he says, inclining his head slightly towards the man. "Vladimir Tepes the third," he offers by way of introducing himself. He looks to Pepper, to take in her reaction to the flight of the birds, and a hint of a smile touches at the corners of his lips. The crows, as mysteriously as they had appeared, seem to vanish into the night sky. A trick of the light, perhaps, or maybe something more? It's hard to say, and the Lord of Vampires is assuredly not telling. Then he looks to Tony and gives a small nod. "It has been an interesting evening," he says with a touch of amusement.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony's posturing is exactly what it seems to be. He's there beside her, a hand on her, and as she leans into him, it should speak volumes. He smiles tightly at the tricks, or perhaps an illusion; he's more than familiar with mind games, sadly, and after he blinks a couple of times, he's got that calm, even smile back on his face.

"Well, Mr Tepes the Third," he begins again, "Enjoy the rest of your evening. The boat will be docking shortly. Thank you for coming."

Uh huh..

Tony turns to the side now, and offers a quiet, "Come on. I owe you a dance." Reaching to take her hand, the one that still holds the glass is set aside before he is ready to lead her down and away. The boat will be docking shortly, after all.