3459/After Midnight...

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After Midnight...
Date of Scene: 23 December 2017
Location: Stark Tower, New York City
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Pepper Potts, Iron Man




Pepper Potts has posed:
It's around midnight. Pepper did her very, very best to push through the party late last night, get up for work in the morning, do enough through the day to maintain, and then come back to partying again. But tonight she's feeling her age and exhaustion. She can only run on 4 hours sleep so long. So, she gave her apologies and had full plans on going up to bed in the guest room. She made it to the couch, and that's it.

Pepper is now dead sleep, awkwardly slumped back on his couch in the living room. Tonight, she's in champange gold dress which is a recreation of the famous Dior 'Junon' dress, shimmering with bits of diamond and other beads on the edge of each elegant sweep of fabric. It makes her waist look quite tiny in the flowing, layered fabric and her shoulders are completely bare. Which means she's slightly shivering on the couch, but too asleep to wake up.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony has no idea she's there. Because he didn't ask or think about it. He's had some drinks, of course. He maintained the party somehow, but now, he's stripping off his tuxedo coat as he arrives in the room, flipping the lights on, and....is berating JARVIS loudly. "IN JEANS," Tony finishes in annoyance, lifting his hands to pull at his tie with an exhausted grump and laugh. He's in a dark blue suit this night, with ivory shirt, tie. He gets through some of the shiny ivory necktie before ... becoming aware of Pepper. And pauses where he is, watching her. Did he wake her? Is she actually sprawled on the couch?

Tony rushes over suddenly, and checks her to be sure she's not, well, dead, alarm and worry coming in first before anything else. "Pep? Pepper?"

Pepper Potts has posed:
Certainly not dead, simply exhausted. He didn't wake her initially, the week and the holiday season simply having gotten the best of her along with one too many glasses of champagne. But as he kneels closer and checks her over, that's enough to make her stir, mascara'ed eyelashes fluttering back open as she stirs to the side, giving the small moan that is either a headache or exhaustion -- probably both, "Huh? Oh...I...I'm here...I'm sorry...I'm fine... I'm here... is there an emergency?" Immediately, her mind is jumping to putting out fires.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony has a hand on her neck for her pulse (it's logical, and he's drunk). "False alarm. You're alive. Good going," Tony approves of her. He's bent over her, pretty close. And the drinking is blatantly obvious, but he's not falling-over drunk, either. "If you're going to vomit, I'll get Dum-E to bring a bucket," Tony points out, and looks around. Oh. Wrong room. Hmmmm.

Pepper Potts has posed:
She certainly has a pulse. And a very lovely neck, to be fair. All bare, sweeping into decollatage, her skin achingly soft in a way that is almost not fair this cold time of the year. Pepper blinks in a touch of confusion as she realizes what he is doing, but then she's just drowsy enough to be sort of touched by it, not weirded out. Her hand comes up to wrap over his one moment. "...I'm fine. Just... fine. And I'm not going to vomit. Just... tired. Meant to make it to the guest bed. I...guess I didn't quite get there."

Iron Man has posed:
"I... am /also/. ... not going to vomit," Tony says, dangerously leaning over her. He looks down into her cleavage, though his expression may be mixed between the options that he might be looking THROUGH her into the place where no vomiting is, or looking down her dress.

Pepper Potts has posed:
"...I...know that look. That's the you're not going to vomit but you might vomit look. Dammit, Tony..." Virginia sighs, quickly shifting away from him and, if his hands let her escape, off the couch to dash for the trash pale beneath the wet bar. That should be big enough, just in case. She's still moving drowsily and stiff, she's sore from two days of hostessing and working, but somehow that dress makes it look like she's half flutter floating. Still elegant, even this exhausted.

Iron Man has posed:
"Nope, this is the saving-you-from-dead look," Tony replies, with a finger pointing directly to his own face, as if it needed emphasis. He rolls to one side and sits on the couch.

Technically, he sits kind of on her leg and some of the dress. "How do you move in this?" Tony asks, trying to manage the huge fluff of white massive fabric, which will probably end up with some awkward movement of it up around her waist as he sees if he can unearth her in it.

Pepper Potts has posed:
Well, she's trapped now. She should be annoyed. She's not. Pepper gives a little laugh as she TRIES to get up and realizes that he's half pinned her leg and dress. She just looks back to him with a tired little smirk, half drowning in the fluttery puffs of her designer gown. "You just...move. It's not so hard. One foot in front of another. And be careful what you're looking for down there -- I'm not wearing THAT many layers." If he's lucky, he might actually find a touch of silk stockinged thigh.

Iron Man has posed:
Tony Stark is many things.

Incidentally, lucky IS one of them.

He finds the thigh, and autopilot comes in. Meaning, he rolls his wrist and plays his fingers over the silk stocking fabric in a slow little swirl. But that's all, because, well. Talking, and Tony is happy to talk right now, in this semi-drunk manner: "What, should I expect pantaloons, granny panties?" Tony asks, happy to play along... in his way. "Hey, it IS my couch; you put your bloomers here, not me---"

Pepper Potts has posed:
"Tony." Oh no, that's the he's-in-trouble voice. Pepper's palm, full WELL aware of where his dress is drowning in that fabric, finds his wrist and firmly clamps down, stopping him from exploring any further. She stares at him hard for a few heartbeats, a smirk pulling at her lips. "...It is your couch, and I was hoping I might be able to use the guest room, but considering we are NOT dating... you don't get to find out any more of what is beneath there. Understood?" ANd yet, she's still not removed her hand either, to tug his hand away.

Iron Man has posed:
Oops, the in-trouble voice. He looks up without raising his head, to look at her face. And good-boys it: he draws his hand back. "It was just a question. Hypothetical. Entirely." He coughs, lips pursed just a bit as if managing to suck on more words instead of saying them, and then scratches his cheek and neck, over the 5'oclock shadow that's built up during the long party. "Are they plaid?"

Pepper Potts has posed:
The strawberry blonde rolls her eyes and huffs for just a moment, as he dares continue to push his luck. Then she pushes herself up to her feet, half dumping him back onto the couch since he had been half sitting on her. Still, when Pepper Potts is determined to get something, she gets it. And right now she was determined to stand up. "Tony Stark, you are drunk. And, unlike you, I have to show up to work in the morning, so I am going to sleep. Maybe, if you really wanted the answers to that, you would ask me out on a date some time. But since you haven't, I'm going to bed." And those words just spilled out, evidence that she's probably more tipsy than she'd care to admit. But it's done now, and then she's abruptly turning on the ball of her foot and stalking off to the guest bedroom in a wave of white fabric and champange jewels.

Iron Man has posed:
"Yeah. Plaid," Tony Stark decides after she leaves, and sprawls out comfortably on the couch, eyes closing, spent.