15338/Coffee Shop Meetup

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Coffee Shop Meetup
Date of Scene: 14 July 2023
Location: The Coffee Bean - Manhattan
Synopsis: Lois goes to meet Ivory for coffee to get her jacket and bumps into an interesting array of characters!]
Cast of Characters: Lois Lane, Black Canary, Ventriloquist (Wesker), Ivory, Doctor Strange

Lois Lane has posed:
Back to the scene of the crime!!

Well, not literally. This just happened to be the same exact coffee shop that Lois and Ivory first met at, so it seemed like a convenient place to meet up when Lois got the text that the jacket was ready. She'd promised to text Ivory next time she got into town, and it hadn't been /that/ long, all things considered. Lois was all over the place,

The text thread looked something like..

>> In Berlin, but I'll be in NYC tomorrow morning
>> Just landed in NYC! Coffee Bean? Free at 8:30!

And so that's how, Lois Lane, not-so-mild-mannered reporter, finds herself again standing in line at this particular establishment with a big leather satchel slung cross body, resting against her hip. What's in it? It's a pretty good guess that it's camera equipment along with the rest of her purse-related items, if she's recognized. The two-time Pulitzer prize winner might very well be one of the most famous, hard-hitting journalists in the world, but recognizing her face in benign coffee shop in the middle of New York? Well, that depends on how closely you follow the media.

It's prime coffee-getting time, of course, so there's a few people in front of her. Most seem to take their beverage-of-choice and run to work or school, though, leaving a good number of tables open for relaxing. Plus there's a whole touristy gift shop area that seems to go largely unnoticed at this hour.
Black Canary has posed:

The black (well, dark brown) elixir of life.

The life's blood of the hard-working vigilante rock star.

The substance the Black Canary most needs now.

The saviour of consciousness.


The pint-sized pugilist enters the coffee shop looking more than a little worse for wear. Still in her signature outfit, the fishnets are torn and there's some pretty severe abrasion on her right leg. There's a good bruise developing on her left cheek. And there's a bit of blood spatter she missed cleaning off---it's truncated by a smear at one end, so she just missed it while tidying up---on her neck just under the back of her jawline at the right. She looks disheveled in general, hair wild, eyes wilder. And she stands like the good citizen she is (though not of the USA) waiting for her turn like a decent person.
Ventriloquist (Wesker) has posed:
A black sedan, driven by a large man in a suit with a fedora, stops by in front of the coffee bean and out steps--- an older man with a large case, held with two hands as he then lets it fall to his right side releasing one of the hands as he fixes his glasses. He walks into the store and then stands in line right behind Lois Lane.

"I think... expresso." he says to himself(?). The case responds.

"Too Fancy." in a gruff voice. "Gimme a regular. Black. Two Sugars." says the case(?) back.

Well that's a completely normal New York day going on.


The man doesn't act like this is weird. Arnold Wesker looks at the woman in front of him. She has a look of familiarity, but he can't place it right now. Hrmmmm. He might be staring for a moment.
Ivory has posed:
With a little yawn on the lips, Ivory pushes open the door using the back of their body, one hand holding the phjone to check the time, the other holding a large clothes bag. On their own back, well displayed by the door they push against, is an embroidery of a white cat playing with a large, black yarnball, though that yarnball has deceptive cats ears in black and eyes and a cat face.

The way to the counter is quick, the order completely normal for New York as in, a Very tall, white chocolate moccha with extra foamed milk and cocoa powder. Yes. Totally not fancy. And totally not weird, because, this is NEW YORK. Where you get espresso at the coffee cart for the same price as normal coffee... which it is, just less in a smaller cup.
Doctor Strange has posed:
Stephen Strange, Doctor Strange to most, usually doesn't make appearances into the wilds of New York. It's not that there's much fear of anyone recognizing him, and the few who might would be medical professionals who recall his celebrity status some decade hence as one of the top paid Neurosurgeons in the country... or the celebrity status that followed the tragic accident that ruined his career. There's been documentaries on it, no doubt.

Much to his chagrin.

Now he's a middle aged man coming into a coffee shop wearing jogging gear. A black unzipped trainer over a tanktop, running pants, and sneakers. With his hair slicked back, but unable to hide the silver at his temples.

It is, then, with great ^misfortune, that he finds himself in line to wait. Cellphone in hand, thumbing through a list of things he must take care of today. Typical, mundane, it almost reminds him of ages passed. Save for the talking case a few people head of him..

Which he pays absolutely no mind for two reasons: This is New York and This isn't the strangest thing Strange has seen... All told, if it does because the strangest thing he sees TODAY, he'll feel pretty good about life.
Lois Lane has posed:
Though she might have been waiting patiently in line, Lois's gaze was never really idle. She'd spent too much time in warzones, both foreign and domestic, to allow herself to be caught completely flat-footed. It didn't mean she picked up /everything/, of course. She probably didn't notice the little boy that was just idly tossing sugar packets into the trash, one at a time. Or the woman that was dabbing a coffee stain on her shirt sleeve with a Tide pen. She definitely noted the weird things, though.

Like some guy talking to his suitcase. Right beside her.

"Long night?" she asks with mild smirk and slightly lifted brows, eyes cutting from Arnold's face down to the case and back. "Your suitcase sounds tired. That's usually my order after catching a redeye."

Of course, once Ivory, who'd been a few ahead of her in line orders, she can move up, too, her smile broadening.

"Ivory," she hisses in their direction, hands slightly parted. "What am I, chopped liver? All I wanted was black coffee." But there's playfulness in the twinkle of her eyes and the twist of a grin on her lips.

Another person orders, and Lois finally steps up to the counter. "Black coffee. Large." See? It wasn't actually that much longer before she got to order, anyway, sliding over to the cashier so she could dig a wallet out of her satchel.
Black Canary has posed:
The talking case captures Canary's attention and she starts her own staring thing. Fortunately for Wesker, she doesn't have the Bat Clan's resources (they're too technological and she hates that) to do searches on faces scans and the like, so she has to do it the old fashioned way: she has to remember from all her flash card studies. She makes a mental picture of Wesker, periodically updating it as she stands in line behind him, while going over memories of staring at the rogue's gallery in the Watchtower, trying to place this somewhat familiar face. Just as she reaches the filing cabinet in her brain that has the match, her train of thought gets derailed as Lois talks to a ... cat?

Yeah, that does it. That's definitely weirder than a talking case.
Ventriloquist (Wesker) has posed:
Nope. Arnold Wesker can't place the face of Lois. He reads newspapers, watches the news but can't place Lois Lane immediately. "Do I know you miss, you're.. familiar." he asks, adjusting his glasses again. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Hey, stop mooching the broad and get me my coffee!" says the case, again.

"Uh! S..-sorry Mister Scarface." says Wesker as he stands at attention and orders his and the cases order, quickly, before turning back to Lois.

He hasn't noticed someone staring at him.

"Hey, what are you staring at?" asks the case to Black Canary.

This causes Wesker to look over, blink blankly, and looks back to Lois with his expresso, as he takes a sip, the case continues. "Take a picture, it'll last longer." it says gruffly.
Ivory has posed:
"No, you are in need of a good coffee, a hug and this bag." Ivory replies to Lois, winking as they tuck the phone away, offering the open arm to the reporter. "Come here you missing in action girl."

Only after offering the hug, Ivory does hand her the bag of simple cloth, wrapped around a hanger and a jacket inside. A jacket, for which Jane had seen the design phase sketches, but not the embroidery. "You good to unpack it and put it on or you need a bit space and want your Maine Coon with the heart of a gentle giant unpack it for you?"
Doctor Strange has posed:
Stephen's brow furrows, eyes turning upwards to peer at the series of events playing out just ahead of him. It's rather Vaudevillian, to be sure. The talking case, the cat. Blue eyes shift side to side, over details, but... it's not his business and it's still New York. So he shrugs and steps forward with the line moving, plugging in orders for his grocery list.

The irony of it, however, is not lost on him.

Of all the people here, Doctor Strange might be the one who appears the most normal.

That's enough to bring a slight smile to his face. Just a hint, nothing to draw attention. Wouldn't want to get go getting caught up in the craziness... or potentially worse... conversation.
Lois Lane has posed:
"Lois Lane," comes the dark-haired woman's easy reply to the prompt. "Daily Planet. I get that a lot." That usually did it for most people. At least, anyone that was at all clued in to current events. Her most recent story had been on an up-and-coming cartel in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, and their connection to a human trafficking network, including a never-before-seen picture of holding cells with children in them that no one knows how she got.

Of course, those children were freed nearly immediately by Superman.

It's funny how many times Lois Lane has gotten to the core of a major criminal enterprise, only to either have to be rescued by or at least call in help from Superman on someone else's behalf. Maybe not knee-slapping funny, but... funny.

Even while Lois is waiting for her coffee to be 'made' (read: poured into a cup), she sidles over to return Ivory's hug and accept the bag with a smile. "Thank you, for this. Really. And no, I'm /definitely/ rocking this right now -- as soon as we find a table so I can pull it out. My Maine Coon is off saving the world. One breaking story at a time."

There's that twinkle of mischief that lingers on Lois's eyes, something 'knowing' that she's not sharing, but she pays and takes her coffee once it's handed over. Then her full attention is back on Arnold.

"So.. your case's name is Mister Scarface? Not to be nosy, but that's sort of my job. Not every day you run into a guy with a talking suitcase. I mean, unless you've got a talking severed head in there or something, which is, maybe, a little more problematic."

Yeah. Leave it to Lois to start talking about severed heads in a coffee shop like it's a conversation about the weather.
Black Canary has posed:
That name grabs Canary's attention. Scarface? Not exactly what one would call the nickname of an upstanding citizen, nor is the voice from the case the voice of such. The cat-themed woman is dropped and attention is focused back on Arnold ... only to be dragged away by the hipster behind the counter.

"OK, see that big cup?" "The Vent..." "I said big and I meant big. Now put that cup under the spout of your espresso machine. Turn the dial to the shortest setting you've got. Then make the shortest espressos you can until that cup is filled. Count off how many espressos that is and that's how many espressos I'm buying." "But that'll be like ... 20 esp..." "I said what I said."

Thus does Black Canary order her morning-after coffee, battered and bruised, blood-spattered, in costume, and ordering the most insane coffee concoction imaginable.

"Actually leave about two shots shy of full. I've got something I want to add to it."

She doesn't expand on this, but it heralds a slight increase in the insanity...
Ventriloquist (Wesker) has posed:
Arnold Wesker looks confused a moment. "No, it isn't a severed head. That's just. My Boss, you know." he says antsy as he adjusts his tie, still sipping his expresso, he isn't downing it all in one, and he still has that black coffee nearby him as he walks over to a seat, as to sit down and talk to Lois, who is also talking to Ivory. He doesn't regard Ivory much at the moment.

"Hey, I want my drink, dummy." says the case. Arnold Wesker sighs and looks around and finally opens the case.

OUT Comes a ventriloquist dummy all decked out like a classic 1920's mobster, complete with pinstripe suit, and fedora. It has a ganrly gash in it's face. Arnold Wesker hefts it in his arms and then says.

He holds the coffee to the dummy's lip.

"That's the stuff. Right there." says the dummy in his gruff voice.

Arnold Wesker doesn't even move his lips at all!

Totally normal everyday things here, yes.
Ivory has posed:
With a nod and chuckle, Ivory stretches the shoulder, before they pay for their abomination of a drop of coffee in milk and molten cacao butter. "Now, I think that one over there is free..." Pointing to a bench, they tilt the head, then eye Canary from behind, and add some extra bill to the payment, as a generous tip. "Just don't question the blonde, she needs the coffee and judging by the state of her face."

Indeed, New York Effect: ignore the crazy ventriloquist guy.
Doctor Strange has posed:
Stephen, cannot, help himself. Hearing Dinah correct the waitress in regards to wanting a large, the Doctor inadvertantly chims in, "Venti doesn't even mean large.. It means twenty. Point of fact, Tall means large... Grande? That's Spanish for large. The 'only' one that 'doesn't' mean large is Venti. It's also the only one that's Italian.. So, congratulations, you're wrong in three languages."

Even having said it under his breath, he regrets getting involved.

This was between Dinah and the Barista.

When the dummy comes out, Stephen stops his internal chastisement to peer at the awkward interaction between puppet and puppet-master.. Even if, standing here watching, he's not sure which is which. His tongue clicks off the roof of his mouth, eyes down on his phone as he steps up to the counter.

"Tall white mocha with a double shot of espresso." A backwards tilt and glance at the display, "How fresh are those lemon squares?" A few hours, "Two of those, please." Cellphone held out to tap against the register to autopay. A few dollars stuffed into the tip jar and he's off to wait for his order to be filled. Peering down at his list.
Lois Lane has posed:
"Oh, sure," Lois responds to Arnold saying it's just his boss. "I think about putting my boss in a suitcase sometimes, too. I mean, he'd probably be less happy about it than yours... even if I did stop to get him a coffee."

Of course, then the 'boss' come out. And Lois takes a step back. Because you know what's even creepier than clowns? Puppets. Do you know what you do when you come across a puppet that seems like it's sentient? You kill it with fire. That's the only logical course of action. Even Pinocchio. Sorry Pinocchio. Literally every other sentient puppet in existence gives your kind a bad rap. Plus you're kind of a liar. Anyway...


That's really the only noise Lois makes when Scarface is brought out on display. Her eyes shift from puppet to puppeteer, a more understanding nod bobbed a couple of types in his direction that just seemed to say, /So you're batshit crazy, then. Got it./

"Got it," Lois says when Ivory motions to the bench that's still open, and though it looked like she was going to head over that direction, the muttered correction (and the beat up blonde) make her linger.

"You're Doctor Stephen Strange," she points out, rather than asking. "The... neurosurgeon? You did the... thing. With the Avengers." That part she at least tries to confirm. Apparently some people recognized him. Mostly.

But then her gaze shifts to the Canary. "Are you okay? I mean, I've had those mornings, but I was usually in the hospital." Bloody and beaten to hell, she means.
Black Canary has posed:
"Well actually..." The barista starts to incorrect Stephen when a very toxic glare from Dinah cuts him off, making him turn pale.

Don't piss off the vigilante in gear who's visibly into violence. That's ... Oh, of course, his name is "Dan". Isn't that perfect? ... Dan's lesson for today. He closes his mouth with an audible clack of teeth and just gets Stephen's order while processing Dinah's.

Stephen gets a brief fragile smile from the pugilist and a mouthed 'thank you'.

"Yeah, Lois, I'm fi..." Canary pauses. "I mean Ms. Lane. Sorry. You're talked about in the Watchtower on a first name basis and I presumed. Didn't mean to be so informal. But thanks for asking. I'm fine. Just had a bit of a run-in with some people who didn't understand what 'stay down' meant." Probably best not to mention they were metas. "So got a bit of a nasty surprise. I'll be right as rain in a few days."

She waves vaguely out to the door.

"All part of the business. It's kinda what I do. This stuff? This is all cosmetic. The one that hurt was getting my shoulder back into its socket before coming here. That's ... yeah. No matter how many times I do that, it's not any more fun."

Dan calls out Dinah's drink. "Black Canasta?" He looks very pale and shaking when Canary's head turns his way, her eyes narrowing, like she was preparing to explode.
Ventriloquist (Wesker) has posed:
Arnold Wesker continues feeding the dummy coffee, like this is normal. He eyes the look from Lois, and looks hesitant, like this is a look he's used to getting. Scarface looks at Lois and says. "Hey, Broad, whatcha staring at here. DO I look funny to you?" he asks, the puppet leaning forward very much like a slightly frustrated human would.

"Mister Scarface! Shouldn't we leave the woman alone, she's just. Looking!"

"Hey dummy, when I want yer opinion, I'll ask for it!" says the dummy, as it turns to look at Wesker and then back at Lois, like it wants to start a dumb fight now.

Wesker adjusts his collar, and sweats.

"S..Sorry, Miss Lane, was it?" Wesker says.
Doctor Strange has posed:
To Canary's mouthed appreciation, Stephen simply lifts a hand and pulls on a tight smile. "That's why we do the work. The appreciation of the people around us." Said in a dry tone, which probably ruins whatever good will he'd favored by stepping in to educate the Barista on linguistics.

"Sometimes." He answers Lois' inquiry whether he's Doctor Stephen Strange, with a glance up from his phone in her direction. "And you're Lois Lane." She'd mentioned that to someone earlier, of course, so it's not nearly as impressive. "I read your piece on the Dos Lobos Cartel in Rio De Janeiro." The Barista sets his coffee down and he reaches back to take it, sipping with his eyes turned up to regard the reporter woman.

"Convenient Superman showed up when he did. I understand the Dos Lobos have a particular fondness for cutting people up and putting them in steel drums at the bottom of the Atlantic." Then again, so does Scar Face. Whom he also recognizes now that the dummy is properly out. The fact this could very quickly turn into a blood bath is not lost on him.

The little bag containing his lemon squares bounces in his scarred palm, "Lemon square? They're fresh. At least he says they're fresh-" Pointing off the side of his cup at the Barista who'd sold them to him. The bag goes to his nose, sniffing, chin curling into a nod. Fresh enough anyways.

Well, there goes the calm on the wooden lips of a dummy. Stephen sets his coffee down at a table, slides down into the chair, and picks at one of the lemon bars.
Ivory has posed:
Ivory tries to gesture Dinah towards the bench that Lois is already targeting, just a little gesture to get them both out of the possible blast zone if Mr. Puppet starts tantrum. Because... Puppets are mad.

"Why don't we all sit down a moment and savour our caffeeine?"
Lois Lane has posed:
"Not funny. Just.. maybe a little stiff after being trapped in a case, you know? Wooden."

Maybe Doctor Strange recognized the puppet, but if Lois did, it didn't show in her playful taunt. Other than the initial 'oh god burn it with fire' glint in her eyes, she didn't really seem all that threatened by a coffee-drinking puppet. Or the crazy guy. Other than the fact that he was obviously crazy. So, he got one of those patient smiles you give to crazy people to try to keep them calm.

"Lois is fine. We're all friends here." That seems to be directed at both Arnold and Dinah, her steaming cup of black coffee finally rising to her lips for a sip. "You should join us." Including the puppet? Including the puppet, apparently.

It's the good Doctor that gets her biggest smile, though. There's something almost predatory about it -- a confidence that goes beyond even the average New Yorker's ability to deal with the weird and potentially dangerous.

"Well, you know, the Dos Lobos kept those kids in cages. It was good thing Superman showed up when he did. Otherwise I might've gotten violent."

She glances back at Ivory, then, at the suggestion to sit down and instead motions to Stephen's table. "That's a good idea." Back to Stephen, then, already ambling over... and setting down her coffee, setting her bag down on the floor. "Mind if we join you?" Asked after the fact, of course. And a lemon bar is taken just before she hooks the garment bag to the back of her chair. "This is Ivory. They're a friend... and I am /very/ much looking forward to seeing the jacket they made." Lemon square bitten.
Black Canary has posed:
"Lois it is then. I'd tell you to call me Dinah, but that would give away my secret identity so just call me ... ah ... Canary."

Was that a joke?

That was a joke. Between the suppressed grin, the glint in her eye, and the fact that the Black Canary is so infamously bad at hiding her 'secret' identity---comes along with not wearing a mask---that she doesn't really bother any longer, it's pretty clear she's joking.

"Thanks, too, for the offer to join you all," she adds to Ivory, "but I've got a post-action report to post. And a lecture to listen to ..." Her eyes roll so violently they seem about to pop out of her face. "... about teamwork and calling in for help." The eyes swivel to Lois, nodding knowingly. "You know the one, I think. Kal probably hits you with it every second week."

Wesker gets that puzzled look of someone who almost but not quite rings a bell. And in this case the bell is an alarm bell. Especially with that puppet. She's going to have to hit the records up on the Watchtower...

"Nice dummy you got there, man," she says. "And the way you control him. Pure skill. Just one thing before I go: why do you sit in its lap?"

She grins affably and waves off, heading out the door with her coffee concoction ... and already the flask is out of her inner pocket and being used to top it off as she walks off.
Ventriloquist (Wesker) has posed:
"DO YOU THINK I'D HANG OUT WITH TRASH LIKE YOU!?" tantrums the puppet. Arnold sweats some more. "Sir, your blood pressure." Scarface 'slams' his hands on the table and screams in Arnold's face. "AGAIN IF I WANT YOUR DAMN OPINION DUMMY, I'LL ASK FOR IT."

Scarface seems up. "I've had it with this place. Let's scram!" says Scarface as Arnold seems to calm down about things when this is said, carefully putting the puppet back into the case, coffee consumed as he stands up with the case.

"G..Goodbye, yes. I better. Go...!" he says as he hurriedly follows Black Canary out the door... only to get into the back of that black sedan which was parked nearby, it's drive reading a newspaper. "Beat it Rhino." says Scarface.

"Sure thing boss." says the big driver as the car starts pulling away.
Ivory has posed:
"Kal?" Ivory wonders as the Black Canary denies the invitation, then shrugs as she files out of the coffee shop, quickly after by the puppet guy. "Well, I guess it's just you, the jacket, me and Mr. Strange. Pardon me, Dr. Strange. So grab your caffeinated stuff and sit, ok?"
Doctor Strange has posed:
"We-" Stephen says as bodies start to seat themselves around his table without waiting to see if he was actually okay with it. The dummy diverts his attention from dismissing the company just long enough for them to find seats and take root in them, so that when his attention is finally back upon Lois and Ivory, it would be impolite for him to ask them to leave.

"No, please." Motioning at chairs they've already taken.

The remainder of the lemon square he'd torn only a small piece from is slid towards the center of the table where Lois can grab a second or Ivory can have most of a first. "I have no doubt that you would have proven precisely how true the addage 'the pen is mightier than the sword' might be in a fight, Ms. Lane." After a sip of coffee, his gaze settles on Ivory, who also seems to know him.

"Doctor Stephen Strange, but I guess you know that. I didn't catch your name?"
Lois Lane has posed:
"You don't really think it takes him that long to get around to it, do you?" Lois grins at Dinah, her eyes still twinkling with mirth. "Nice to meet you, Canary."

Of course, everything stops so she can visibly wince at the shouting puppet. She /does/ recoil slightly, but it seems more of a volume issue than anything. Then again, it wasn't exactly like she had superpowers, herself. Anything (man, woman, or puppet) that looked like it was capable of launching an unexpected threat got a wary glare until she was sure the threat was gone.

And that wasn't true until the threat was.... literally gone.

"Creepy." Lois shrugs once puppet and puppeteer (which was which?) are gone, following after Canary.

That leaves the reporter to focus on Ivory and Strange, though.

The 'pen is mightier than the sword' comment earns a supremely confident wink. "Thank you, by the way." She lifts the other half of her lemon square slightly like she was 'toasting' Strange and then pops it into her mouth, unzipping the garment bag that she's hung on the back of the chair as she's chewing.

"He's a... mutual friend," Lois answers Ivory's question about Kal once she's swallowed the sweet treat. And that seems to be all she's willing to elaborate on it. But she was pushing that garment back open so she could pull out the jacket inside.
Ivory has posed:
"Oh? I don't remember him then, silly me. I guess I need a reintroduction then... anyway, you want to unpack your preacious?" Ivory notes with a slight teasing tune to Lois, pointing to the jacket bag.

"This town is clearly waking up. Gimmie a sec..." Yawning, Ivory ruffles through her hair, liberating cat ears. Tufty white cat ears that would fit a persian. "Now, you were saying, You're Doctor Strange, Master of the Arcane and... Neurosurgeon? I hope you don't practice an exorcism before brain surgery, I wouldn't want ambergris in my skull, but then again, well met. Ivory Valentine, Resident designer. Like, White Persian Cat."

The whitehead even produces a business card, the label name and web address and an embossed cat shape.
Doctor Strange has posed:
"I don't remember saying anything about the arcane, no." Strange says to Ivory who throws around things like 'Master of the Arcane', sipping at his coffee with a glance over at Lois and back to Ivory, "I haven't practiced surgery in over a decade, Ms. Valentine." Holding up his hands to show the extensive scarring from numerous surgeries of his own, fingers trembling ever so slightly.

With his hand laying back down, "oh a business card." Brows flicking wider, "We still do those, excellent." After reaching out to take it and reading the name & addresses, he flips it over and wiggles it in the air with a tight smile. "Thank you, Patrick Bateman would be sweating bullets at the exceptional craftmanship, I'm sure..."
Lois Lane has posed:
"You wouldn't," Lois clarifies. "He's friends with Canary." No mention at all, of course, that he's also the man Ivory had met and one of the two cats pictured on the back of the jacket that she's just pulling out of the garment bag...

It's a jeans jacket, the back emblazoned on the almost full width in a cartoony style: A really large longhair cat with dark grey, almost black fur, looming from the left, head bent down. A much smaller cat in ginger orange but without markings, suggesting an Abyssinian, is on the right, much more regal in posture is leaning up, so their noses meet - a little cat kiss, apparently initiated by the smaller of the two, but only possible because both lean in together.

After briefly holding it up so she can see the back, her smile broadens. "Ivory, I /love/ it," she gushes, then flips it around so she can slide her arms into it. That done, she clutches the front and turns around to show off the back so Strange can see it. "My fiance and I ran into Ivory last time we were in here. They sketched this for us, and I had to have it."

Moving around the table, she drapes an arm around Ivory's shoulders and leans in for another hug (careful of their ears). That done, however, her eyes flicker mischievously back to Strange. "All it comes down to is this: I feel like shit, but look great."

Then she's taking her seat, and her coffee.
Ivory has posed:
Ivory's eyebrows furrow as Dr. Strange calls them Miss Valentine, a finger rising. "Sorry but... no. It's neither Sir, Madam, Miss, Misses or anything like that. Just Ivory, ok? I don't subscribe to that genders are separate stuff. Just doesn't make sense for me."

"Ahw, Thanks dear! It's all for you, and people like you fill my inbox so I can do that stuff, you know? If anything, I think Mr. Strange there might be a rather grumpy grey floofy type. If they ever need a jacket like that. Possibly... with a pointy hat? As for that master stuff..."

There's a ltitle chuckle. "I remember a couple odd run ins with that chin of yours. Quite a wile back. Your house is a crazy building."
Doctor Strange has posed:
"Ivory." Strange corrects when he's corrected, putting up no fight on the matter regarding anyone's gender specifics. "Anyways." With another sip of his coffee, "Ms. Lane, it was a pleasure to have met you." Said as he stands from he seat, one last drink from his coffee taken before tossing the empty cup into the trash recepticle.

"I have somewhere else to be. I'm not sure how much more important it is, but I can almost promise I'd rather be there." Smiling, at least politely, he zips up his track top and heads for the exit with his phone sliding back into his pocket.
Lois Lane has posed:
"Well, rest assured, it will get plenty of attention. Especially if I wear it over my wedding dress," Lois muses, still with that easy grin on her lips. Denim jacket over a wedding dress? She would. Maybe not for the ceremony itself, but she'd absolutely wear it to the reception. No question.

Besides, she was already.. what? Forty? Or close to it. And the whole world knew who she was and what she was capable of. That whole 'innocent white wedding dress' thing might not even be her jam. Clark's down home Kansas values, on the other hand...

Well, all thoughts for down the road.

"Seeya, Doc. Nice to meet you, too," Lois says, raising her cup slightly. "I'd say I'd try to make it more entertaining next time we bump in to each other, but I feel like a creepy ass puppet, a beat-up vigilante, and cat-eared clothing designer are going to be hard to beat."
Ivory has posed:
Ivory nods to the doctor as he slips out, having corrected himself partially. "Well well... See you around? Some day?"

That solved, Lois other proclamation earns not just both eyebrows raising, but also almost a table filled with milkfoam. "You what?! Don't tell me you are about to tie a knot with that handsome boy that is totally not a big floofy cat on the jacket the same way you are not an abyssinian..." Yes, someone subscribes to the suspicioussly specific denial strategy.

"When, where and do I need to get your man a matching suit jacket?" No, that was not a question for an invite, it was mire like a formal offer. "Though I hope you won't kill me if I demand to measure that back myself. Without a shirt."