2463/Finding the Pieces

Finding the Pieces
Date of Scene:	15 September 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	M, Hawkeye (Bishop)

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M has posed:
Kate Bishop and Monet St. Croix are friends, inasmuch as anyone CAN be friends with the Monagasque heiress.

It's a small fraternity of such people; the wealthy 'little princes' of China, the elite daughters of business owners in America and Europe. Though Monet has that blue blood that lets her cross into the upper echelons of European society, her family also has the sort of wealth-- Wealth, with a capital W-- that opens doors in America as well. Being of the same age, to boot, Monet and Kate were frequent companions during respective family trips to New York or Europe.

Monet has booked at table at Le Cirque, one of the finest and most upscale dining clubs in New York. The wealthy scion of nobility is dressed to kill, as always; hair down and straightened, diamonds at her ears and wrist. Tan trousers fit like leggings, tucked into black boots with a 4" stiletto heel, and she wears an off-the-shoulder top in deep aubergine that exposes the sharp line of her collarbone and the ribs on the left side of her torso.

She makes a beeline for the table, following the maitre'd; a little early, and despite her calm mien, excited to see her friend again.

It's not like Monet has so many of them.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
    Kate woke up early, too early. It was probably that explosion - that crater in the middle of Metropolis that the news was calling a meteor strike. She had checked her news and social media feeds - superheroes were all over it, even Superman. More importantly, America Chavez had been there... Kate had seen the colorful young woman in some of the footage. "You'd better be alright." she mutters and dashed off a text.

    "Alright, Katiemonster. They've got it under control. What's on the agenda?" and she checked her calender. "St Croix. Great. They don't pay me enough to do all this stuff. Oh, wait... I don't get paid at all." She shrugs, though and gets herself ready.

    Soon she's at the restaurant, dropped off by a driver. She's dressed well too, of course: her ebon hair brushed back, held in place with little silver pins set with amethysts. Her dress is a van Dyne original - a teal sheath. the top from her bust up is lace, of course she has something underneath. Her shoes are leather, but flats. She opens her little purse as she waits for the host to find her name, she checks her dark listick in a compact's mirror.

M has posed:
The host brings Kate to Monet's table, a small, somewhat isolated little table in a nook. Monet St. Croix rises from her seat when Kate draws near, a smile wreating her strong, haughty features. She's put on some muscle since Kate saw her last, and there's ... something else about her. Hard to place. But she's changed somehow, a little more guarded. No longer quite as carefree as they'd been a teenagers.

"Kate, darling," Monet says, extending both hands to squeeze Kate's fingers. She steps forward, kissing Kate's cheeks in a French fashion. "Bonsoir, mon cheri, you look /fantastic/. Is that a Van Dyne?"

She invites Kate to seat herself at the table, and settles back into her chair as well. "I am so glad to see you again, eet has been too long," Monet says, flicking raven locks back from her brow with a fingernail. "Close to-- a year? Two?" she inquires. "How have you been?"

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
    Kiss kiss. Yes. Kate too is fitter. She's always been a sporty girl - fencing and archery and riding, but she too has put on muscle. Especially in her arms and though it's hard to see, in both chest and back.

    "Of _course_ it is, sweetling." she says, using A Game of Thrones term of endearment. "Too long, my darling." she agrees, sitting as well. "How've you been?" she asks. "What've you been doing with your pretty little self?"

M has posed:
Monet blinks, feeling the change in Kate's triceps as they break. "Goodness, you 'ave been staying fit," she remarks, wryly. "I am glad to see you are taking care of yourself."

She orders wine for the both of them and sits with her hands folded in her lap, legs crossing at the knee under the table. "Eet has been an exciting year or so," she admits. "My... well, I regret to share, my mother passed away," she says, with a properly stiff upper lip. "My brother Marius ... took ill and zere was an altercation." It's clear Monet was not merely an observer to what followed, but she moves on before questions can be asked.

"My brother and sister are well, however, as is my father. I felt ze time was right for a change of scenery," she explains. "So-- a move to New York," she explains. "Some time in America, perhaps some furthuring of my education. I'm staying, for ze moment, at a private academy in Westchester," she remarks. "Only a college, but extremely exclusive and private. And I'm settling into social life here in New York, seeing ze clubs, reuniting with friends, etc."

While she talks, Monet starts applying her psychic talents to scan Kate's thoughts. She's in no great rush; her telepathy slowly circles the other woman, picking up surface thoughts only at first while she starts seeking a way to sink into Kate's deeper conciousness.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
    "I'm so sorry, pet. I didn't know or I would've been there like a shot, you know that of course." she says sympathetically and reaches over to touch Monet's arm gently. At the mention of an 'altercation' an eyebrow raises. "Hmm."

    Kate does feel some pity for the other girl, thinking vaguely about the times Kate had seen Monet' mother. She searches for a memory of Marius and the other siblings, but they don't seem very distinct. Half of Kate's brain is thinking of a tall latina dressed in red, white, and blue. There's a flash of worry, a flash of Kate having seen her image small on a video feed - dragging rubble off of people, helping wounded. 'I should be there'. She tells herself. 'It's already over. The authorities are there. You couldn't have done anything else for them'. she admonishes herself mentally. 'She's basically a Superwoman' and there's a flash of America again, rubbing Kate's bare feet that are in her lap. Sleep, on a couch.

M has posed:
"I appreciate it, Kate," Monet says. And much to her surprise-- Monet means it.

Her face is calm and that smile fixed, not betraying her surprise and a little envy at Kate's life as it flickers against her awareness. Kate is not merely reflecting on a nebulous desire to assist the injured, but clearly contemplating actually assisting in the fight.

And it's a little adorable, seeing Kate melt from her own perspective at a footrub.

"It was painful, for a time. But we're moving on. So! Tell me more about things for you, recently," Monet says, reaching for the wineglass their server drops in front of her. She takes a sip of the rich ruby wine. "Is there something special in your life to take your focus? Some/one/?" she asks, eyes dancing speculatively.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
    "I suppose moving on is all we can do." Kate agrees.

    She takes up her glass as well. "No." is the lie on her lips. But there's a flash of a woman who looks exactly like Diana of Themyscira, but somehow it's clear that the lady isn't Diana at all. There's the other girl too. A conflict in her mind, guilt too. There's a rival, a dark shape engulfing America Chavex in Kate's mind. Black wings.

    "No." she says again. "Though my father would love to find me an eligible bachelor to marry." but she shrugs at that. "What about you? Anyone at this fancy new school you mentioned?"

M has posed:
"Ugh. Boorish peasants, all of them," Monet says, with a haughty sniff and toss of her head. "Zere are a few who are not unattractive, but... no. None of zem have sparked an interest, at least-- not at the school," she remarks, giving Kate a polite look that's tempered by a smile only in her exotic eyes.

"I met her socially, you see. She's very witty, urbane-- old blood, old money," Monet says.

Kate tries hard, but she's cursed with being a Yankee. It's apparent that Monet's slightly cowed by this woman's social pedigree, whomever she is.

"In fact, zis is part of why I called," Monet says. "I have found a social club, it's tres chique," she says. "But... classic. Timeless. Only for the very wealthiest and most well-bred," she clarifies. "I was hoping you might come with me to one of ze parties-- as a guest?" she says, hopefully. "I think if you like it, you might consider purchasing a membership. Is a trifle," she says, with a flick of her fingers-- "keeping ze riffraff at bay."

Of course a 'trifle' for the likes of the two socialites could still easily be in the low six figures.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
    I hardly have time for seeing people socially anyway." Kate says. "Not seriously." She listens to what Monet has to say. "That sounds interesting, this club. And this _person_ that has ensnared my dear Monet in her web." and Kate nods. "I should think I should meet her and tell you if I approve." she teases. "What would I need to wear?"

M has posed:
"Historically? Hosiery and a corset, and stylish heels," Monet says. Her eyes dance with a stinging mirth at the suggestion. "No one will stop you of course, but frankly I felt like ze antiquated 'eet's empowering' argument stopped at the door. Some women still use sex as a weapon; that's zheir choice," she says.

"Anyway!" her fingers flick through the air. "C'est non. Formal, eet is black tie always," she says. "Your most chique attire-- but whatever you wear, eet must make a /statement/," she says, flattening her hand on the table with a *thump*. "Do not let anyone forget that you were there."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
    Kate nods at that. "I could go in a formal corset and hose." she says with a laugh. She has another sip of her wine. "And a black bow tie?"

    What are you going to wear? Where is this soiree happening? Who is your mysterious attraction? You simply must dish."

M has posed:
"I have /just/ ze outfit picked out," Monet assures Kate. "White trousers, close-fitting; my black Louboutains; and a foxing jacket, but in black with white trim, and nothing underneath it," she says, sitting proudly upright.

"We meet regularly for drinks, you see-- zis is not a public event," she explains. "It is merely the custom to dress spectacularly," she clarifies. "Every day. Never be seen wearing the same thing twice."

"And if you must pry, her name is Selene Gallio," Monet explains. "She is... like something out of a story," she remarks. "Flawless, simply... flawless." And that's a term Monet bandies about very, very rarely.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
    "Hmm." Kate says, watching Monet's face. "The name doesn't ring a bell. She sounds Spanish. Is she from Europe or is the Latin American?" she asks. "I'll find something interestng to wear. I've needed an exuse to update my wardrobe anyway."

M has posed:
"Italy," Monet confirms. "Thank you so much, dear," Monet remarks. "Eet will be good to have a friend in my corner. The Club is... ruthless," she remarks. "Many of the club members are incredibly sharp and socially well-connected. Eet will mean a great deal to have a friend... in my corner, so to speak."

She rests her chin on the back of her hand, elbow on the table, and examines Kate with those eyes that seem to see too much. "What have you been doing with yourself, darling?" she asks Kate. "I see your name here and zhere in the society pages, but you're hardly living up to ze reputation you had in France. Building up the business? Surely not volunteering charity work," she says, making a face.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
    "Of course, darling. I have your back, as they say here. I'll watch for knives." Kate promises. "I have a few knives of my own."

    "Yes, I'm afraid so." she replies. "My father never has time to go to charity events and so I find myself going in his stead to make donations on our family's behalf." and she sighs. "I suppose it's fulfilling in a way, doing good deeds and all that. Nothing interesting."

M has posed:
Lies, sweet little lies, all of them-- but Monet says nothing. It's enough for the psychic to sit back and absorb the stray thoughts Kate lets loose. Images of violence and contemplations about the riffraff of the inner city that need her 'attention'.

Monet files it all away for reference.

"I'm so sorry you've been roped into such boring obligations," Monet remarks, sympathetically. "I am hoping the Hellfire Club might prove to be a better use of your time, my dear. More proactivity. They're quite philanthropic, you know."

After all, if the poor were meant to have money and power, they'd be better equipped to keep it!

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
    "Ah, then I'm even more interested in meeting them." Kate responds. "I suppose this is a cocktail party and not a dinner?" She waves a hand at Monet's condolences. "All part of being a dutiful child." Kate says, and then laughs. "At least until I have control of my own trust fund."

M has posed:
"Drinks and hors d'ouvers," Monet confirms. The waiter arrives with the check and she signs it; no one who dines at this particular restaurant actually has to dig out plastic. They've already got your card with your reservation.

"Thank you, Kate. I think you'll enjoy it. Who knows? Maybe you'll be able to parlay some of your new connections into loosening your father's grip on the pursestrings."

She rises, then offers Kate a hug. "It's so good to see you, Kate. And I'll see you soon, at the Club?" she inquires.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
     Kate accepts the hug. "You only need call, sweet. I'll be there as soon as I hear your sweet voice on the ether."