7694/Stepping into parlors..

Stepping into parlors..
Date of Scene:	31 May 2019
Location:	The Blue Lady
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Peggy Carter, Thomas Raith

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Peggy Carter has posed:
Get out of the house. Out of the Triskelion. Just *out*. That's what they'd been coaching Peggy to do since she showed up here and was cleared. Finally, unable to jog or box any longer, the gym sick of seeing her, she grabbed a shower, the credit card from SHIELD, and dared to venture out. A few searches on 'The Google' later, and she's ended up at this place for a classy, quiet, old fashioned drink. She's broken down an borrowed a dress from the SHIELD wardrobe, meant to blend in depending on certain missions. It's a timeless piece in dark green with a fitted waist and A-line skirt. Her hair is down in casual waves around her features and she's got her usual, classic red lipstick on. Over all, she looks slightly like the 1950s decided to step into the present, but maybe that's just how she carries herself.

Thomas Raith has posed:
It's early in the evening, so the crowd hasn't really started to form, and the bouncer/door man...a hispanic looking young man with a pair of tomahawks hanging from his waist just nodded to her as she came in, as if to say "You don't look like trouble, so require no interaction beyond a polite acknowledgement from me." At the bar, a the bartender also nodded to her, though his was more of a message of "Just a moment, let me deal with this othe customer first. Then I'll be right with you. The first person to /speak/ to her however comes from her right, and says "Could I offer you a slow comfortable screw up agienst the wall?" the man who speaks is...well he's beautiful actully. Handsome doesn't properly fit since he is more pretty then tradtionally handsome. His eyes are twinkleing with playfulness, like someone who know the punchline when no one else even knows there was a joke. As for his smile... well honestly what his smile says isn't appropriate for print.

Peggy Carter has posed:
Having been around soldiers her entire life, Peggy has heard a lot of dirty pick up lines, but that might be the most audacious she's ever encountered. Even if it is from a stunningly beautiful man. The brunette gives the bartender a wave, as if to say not to worry about it, but then turns dark eyes on Thomas to figure out if he was joking or that line seriously came out of his lovely mouth. She reads no trace of a jest in his features and blinks, arching a single brow. "You...can't be serious." She flatly deadpans, her British accent clipped and crisp.

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith then rather audatiously, steps behind the bar. A fact the bartender notices, but does nothing about. He takes out a shaker and adds some ice, then begins to name the igrediants as he adds them "Sloe Gin, Southern comfort, Ketel one Vodka, Orange Juice..." The Orange juic takes up most of the room in the cocktail, and he shakes it vigorously then strains it into a glass, "And Galliano from a Harvey Wallbanger.." He says floating this last on the top and sliding it to the woman, "A Slow Comfortable screw up agienst the wall, and on the house."

Peggy Carter has posed:
The woman watches him with that clearly skeptical brow, her red lips pursed in a line of almost amusement as he begins to announce and piece the ingredients together. She starts catching on about half way through but doesn't interrupt him, too amused by the entire situation. Her left hand comes up, lazily slipping around the glass and raising it in his direction, "I suppose one won't hurt." She half way teases, giving him a small, silent toast before taking a deep sip of the sweet drink. If he's particularly observant, he might catch the flash of a wedding ring on her left ring finger. Of course, that might not matter either.

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith eyes the ring a bit, though not in the way one might expect. In fact it is slightly reminiscent of the wary look someone might give a handgun that is not pointed at them but does exist in their space. "Well it is always a distinct privage to have such a beautiful woman come in. I'm Thomas Raith, I own the Blue LAdy." He says offering his right hand to her...

Peggy Carter has posed:
Another sip of her drink and she sets it down, offering her right hand across the the bar towards him. The change in his eyes isn't missed, a slight narrowing coming of hers in the way that someone who is quite excellent at profiling people often does when they are thinking. Slowly, the file about Thomas Raith is being built in her head and it's one of intrigue further than the initial, awful pick up line might suggest. She doesn't hesitate in offering her hand. "Margaret Carter. But... friends call me Peggy. It's good to meet you, Mr. Raith. I take it you...own the place? Or you're just so friendly with the staff they let you do as you please?"

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith grins wickedly, "Thomas, please. Literally no one calls me Mr. Raith, and I'd prefer not to break the trend with a creature as lovely as yourself." Shaking hands with Thomas is strange... It's nice. Very nice. To be frank, some men can't /kiss/ as well as Thomas Raith shakes hands. He reaches under the bar and pulls out a crystal decanter and pours the amber liquid from it into a highball glass, sipping it and smiling. "And if Yosa were to let anyone, I don't care how regular, behinsd the bar, there would be unkind words exchanged." To this the bartender only grunts and smirks at his boss. Likely the man might say less then a dozen words in a given night.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"Thomas, then. It's nice to meet you." For all his panty-melting voice, looks, and even the way he shakes a hand, Peggy Carter doesn't seem to be melting in the least. She might as well be talking to a car salesman or a mortgage broker, for as calm and even headed as she is. She's not even blushing or staring at him like he shouldn't be possible. She's politely formal with the friendliness of a business professional. It matches her clipped accent rather well. "...So it *is* your establishment? You have decent reviews up on the Google, at least. And they said it was quiet. It's... nice to find quiet in this city, at least." Her dark eyes flicker down to the bartender just a moment, but wasn't he who Peggy was trying to get a read on, but the man who mixed her a drink. So, they quickly return to the sriking gentleman in front of her.

Thomas Raith has posed:
The term "The Google" does get a slight eyebrow raise, but he chalks it up to her being British rather then anything else. And if anything the fact that she seems so...unpreturbed by him seems to intrigue rather then dissuade him. "Well then, I hope we can do what ever it might take to...exceed your expectations." He says in that same playfully flirty tone. "After all if you chose us out of all the other possibilities it would wound me if you left...unsatisfied."

Peggy Carter has posed:
A deeper smirk pulls at red velvet lips as he comments on satisfaction. "Unless you are making a drink called a satisfaction, you are laying it on just a bit thick, don't you, Thomas?" Peggy points out flatly, her expression still a touch amused, but the tone of her voice is that of one who has taken a lot of guff from a lot of men in her life on all different levels and simply doesn't have the patience for it any more. Possibly she doesn't even remember how to flirt!

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith waffles his hand a bit, giving her another of those smiles that belong on the covers of romance novels. Sexy, playful, and just a dash of predatory. "Maybe a /little/ thick, but thats part of the fun isn't it?" He asks with a bit of a grin as he sips his own drink. Perhaps making his own mental file of her as well. Whatever that leery look he'd given her ring before is gone now, whatever that was.

Peggy Carter has posed:
A slight huff of a laugh escapes her throat and Peggy shakes her head gently before finishing her drink up with one last, deep sip. She then stands, tucking a wave of dark hair behind her ear and squaring off her shoulders as she faces him full on. No fear of that predatory touch in his words, no swooning at his looks. Just person to person. "I think I ceased having fun with men laying it on thick when I was in the military, Mr. Raith. But I'm certain you do quite well with most of the fawning women around here so, well... I wish you luck in your bartending career. I really should be on my way." And with one last little tip of her head, she turns on the ball of her foot and heads for the door with just the faintest wave of perfume that probably hasn't been popularly made in fifty years.