8885/It's So Much Quieter Here

It's So Much Quieter Here
Date of Scene:	20 August 2019
Location:	Janet's Room, Avengers Mansion
Synopsis:	After attending the charity gala in Gotham, Steve drops by Van Dyne Industries to find Janet pulling a late-nighter. Drinks and commiseration are shared in the quiet to follow.
Cast of Characters:	Wasp (van Dyne), Captain America

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Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Van Dyne industries has had a lot of late-night workers lately. Janet's no exception, pulling as much extra duty as possible so her subordinates aren't so overworked.

It's well into the evening and the lights in her office are mostly down, save for a couple around her desk. Janet's palm props up her cheekbone, elbow on the desk. A pencil's in her hand, and she's clad in a single-piece blue dress with a knee-length pencil skirt and no sleeves. It's a relatively modest look, though kicky heels and designer jewelry keep her from looking like a secretary. A pencil's loosely dangling from her fingertips.

Janet snores once, eyes lidded shut.

Captain America has posed:
Despite the imminent threat of lionesses on the prowl (read as: single women), with Steve having been noted sans fashionista at the charity gala event, the man himself has escaped without molestation. It's magical. If anything, the speeches had been heard before in some variant and promises left and right went for future visits in the name of more fund-raising. Steve agreed for the smiles on the faces he brought, truthfully.

Remembering a side comment made by Janet earlier on in the day, he has his Uber ride drop him off at Van Dyne Industries. Recognized on-sight as Janet's beau, security allows him in and he takes the stairs up to her office. The door to the fashionista's office opens slowly and quietly, letting Steve lean face-in first.

The sight of his gal asleep on her own palm is enough to make the Captain let out a quiet, understanding sigh. He steps into the office fully now, revealing himself in his gala glory: classical tuxedo, cut to fit, deepest navy-blue with indigo silk lapels and pocket lining, single-button at his middle. His bowtie remains tied, a match for his lapels, and proper against the crisp white of his shirt beneath.

"<<Seillean>>, you're burnin' the candle at both ends," he says on approach, pitching his voice not to startle.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Hmsffnhm'wake," Janet says with a jerky sluggishness. She blinks owlishly at her surroundings, trying to catch up with that sense of displacement that comes from being jolted up.

By the time Steve gets to the desk, she's sipped a little from a water glass in front of her. A touch to her shoulder squares her more firmly in reality.

Janet looks up at Steve with a smile, her eyes a drowsy shade of emerald. "Oh. Hey, is it..." She glances at the delicate crystal watch against her left wrist. "Oh, shit, it's already after eleven." Janet pinches the bridge of her nose tiredly, then thinks better of it and reaches for a tissue in her desk drawer along with a little compact. A little mascara's brushed away and she looks up at Steve again, making her toiletries disappear once more.

"How was the gala?" she inquires of him, rising from her chair. Her arms slip around Steve's shoulders and Janet leans into him for a warm embrace, stretching even in those heels to reach.

Captain America has posed:
"Yes, it's after eleven," the Captain acknowledges gently. His fingertips separate from the round of her shoulder as he steps back, giving her room to stand in turn. He waits, eyes patiently marking the contents of her desk and the lingering flush of sleep at her cheeks, the way it lingers beneath her eyes as it does on him, though she makes it appear far more refined and less...mulish.

Janet's gathered up against him within the hold of his arms. She's even lifted off the ground just a touch, simply to make the toes of her heels dangle for a second. It allows him a moment to bury his nose in the softness of hair behind her ear and inhale her perfume, that essence simply her above all else.

"Like every gala I've been to -- eh, that's rude of me," he relents even as he lets her feet make purchase on the ground again. His fingers loosely lace at the small of her back regardless. "The doctors all have their hearts in the right place, the politicians are missing theirs somewhere else, 'nd I saw enough familiar faces to take the worst of the boredom away." His smile is fond down at her.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Unseen, a smile splits Janet's face, and she buries her face into Steve's collarbone as she's hoisted. It's a few moments of feeling utterly safe and secure in Steve's embrace, and she lingers there as long as she can.

"Sorry I couldn't go. I'm just--" she gestures at the messy stacks of paperwork on her desk. "I'm trying to handle as much as I can to keep things from overwhelming people. I guess time got away from me." She yawns demurely behind the back of her hand and looks up at Steve again. "Well, glad you didn't get mauled by cougars. D'you want a libation or something?" she inquires, and gestures with two thumbs and a motion-starting tilt of her head towards her tidily accoutered minibar.

Captain America has posed:
"Sure, why not. I'll take a Gin Fizz if you've got any ginger ale in there." Janet is released from the circling of his arms, though the broad and warm palm of the Captain lingers on her back for as long as possible before movement means detaching from contact. His hands then slip to the pockets of his suit jacket. He considers the shine of his shoes for a second before he wanders over slowly, speaking as he does.

"I dunno if you would've liked it. Lots of schmoozers, a couple of real eels." Steve's nose wrinkles. "'nd no, nobody mauled me -- getting a bit better about reading the situation to avoid those sorts of things." And excusing himself as subtly as he can manage, which the Captain is getting surprisingly good at. "Still, would've been nice to have you there. Bet you would've made me look like a chump from the Heights," he says to the fashonista, dimpling to one side as he lingers nearby the minibar.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Are you kidding me? Miss a party?" Janet gives Steve a skeptical look. "Though if you ask me, they need to do more raves. Cater to the younger crowd. Lots of socialites, trust funds, social pressure. I bet I could throw a rager, charge five grand at the door, tell everyone it's going to conservation. Boom."

She glances at a cocktail card to refresh her memory on how to make Steve's drink. She pours the gin and ginger beer into a shaker, then makes a face. "Damnit. I don't have real eggs, and I don't know how good this artificial stuff is."

It's shaken vigorously near her waistline, one-handed and with a casual ease. "Baby, you've come a long way since we started dating," Janet tells Steve with a reassuring grin. Her dark makeup makes a sharp contrast in the low lights around the sitting area. "You know that? You've gotten real good at navigating tricky social situations in high society. You're /almost/ presentable," she says with a momentary, superior tone.

Captain America has posed:
"'m not gonna complain if it's not real egg." Steve reassures the fashonista as he watches the blur of the silver shaker, already misted over in condensation. His eyes flick up to Janet's face once more, attentive despite being half-lidded. Her friendly jab makes him crack. A snort leaves him and he smirks, shaking his head and looking off to one side, eyebrow raised as if to deflect the funning.

"Day'll come when I get there 'nd you won't know what to do with me anymore. I'll be able to steer right out of any trouble at any fundraiser, gala, fashion show, you name it. You'll have to go find some new trouble...or maybe make your own." Light shines matte off one broad shoulder as he lifts it, smirking.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Oh, honey, you have /no/ idea the kind of trouble I can get up to," Janet says with an impish expression. "We're talking starting a fire alarm at the Bellagio so we could have a foam party in one of the hotel rooms. I'm talking, bussing sixty teenage prep school girls from a private Academy in Switzerland /over/ the alps," she continues, and reaches for a glass to pour Steve's drink. "/Into/ Spain, then we snagged a private yacht and puttered up to Ibiza for the weekend. We told the caretakers we'd popped over to a nunnery for a weekend of fasting and repentance," she explains. Janet sets her shaker aside so she can press her palms together over her sternum, and curtseys with a meek skyward look.

It's pretty obvious she's feigning penitance, as it's equally likely Janet's never experienced such an emotion in her life.

Captain America has posed:
The fashionista receives a perfectly dubious look, framed on her beau's perfectly-sculpted face. Steve even tilts his head in a little, as if to accent further his unspoken point. He can't resist regardless.

"Janet. You'd make a terrible nun. I'd make a better nun than you and that's saying something," he then laughs, his grin white and bright. "Still, foam party? Never been to a foam party." By the mild note of interest, he's mentally filing away the concept for later, if for the novelty of it.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet pauses and stares at Steve while decanting her own drink, rum and cola with a twist of lime. "You wanna go to a f--" The rest of his words catches up and she shakes her head. A suppressed smile breaks into a grin as she finishes prepping her drink and then Janet laughs.

"Okay, you get boyfriend points for trying to stay involved in my personal interests, and I thank you for it," Janet says, bobbing one knee and laying fingers on her sternum. "But I've got a feeling you don't have the, um, intestinal fortitude for a foam party."

Janet moves to the sofa against the wall and settles onto it, curling her feet under her so her heels hang off the upholster. Steve is beckoned over with a pat to the cushions near Janet's hip.

Captain America has posed:
Taking up his drink, Steve sips it and finds it to his exactings. He frowns at Janet's claim. Memories, some questionable even in the eidetic inner eye of his own mind, flash around at the claim of questionable intestinal fortitude. Trenchfoot comes to mind, for one, followed by all the incident of a can of anchovy oil being poured into his tent roll and the result of that after a week's use on a cross-country march, followed by...

Steve has to blink himself back to the present and rescue himself from remembering. The audible patpat of the couch's surface helps center him in the here and now. Another mouthful of his Gin Fizz further assists. With a grunt, he plops down -- yes, plop, with the full relaxation of body into the descent -- and magically doesn't spill his drink somehow. It leaves the line of his thigh touching Janet's bent knees. An arm sprawls along the back of the couch and he lifts his glass towards her.

"Trust your word then, <<seillean.>> I'll pass on those."

After what's sure to be an enlightening Google search. Ah, the wonders of the Internet, forever sullying an eidetic memory.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet makes a face at Steve's concession. She swings her legs over his lap and turns towards him on the couch, shoulder turning to rest against the seatback near his arm.

f "I mean, don't count them off /entirely/," she amends, a beat later. "Just, uh, they're not exactly... 'family friendly'," she quips.

"Anyway." She exhales and looks mournfully up at Steve. "Listen, um... there's a good chance I'm gonna get summoned to testify in front of the SEC-- the Securities and Exchange Commission. They're looking into these bullshit charges against the CFo. Now I'm hearing that there might be 'irregularities' with my personal taxes. I mean, I understand the IRS screwing with JVD, but I can't believe I'm being audited personally. The US Government has it out for me this year," she says with a sullen expression.

Captain America has posed:
Steve leans his head to pillow half on his own shoulder, half on the plush seatback. His free hand slips around behind to idly stroke at the back of his gal's dark hair as he listens. Brows draw close and finally meet even as he thins his lips.

'm sorry to hear this. I know you wouldn't cheat on your taxes. 'm sure it's just part of the due process, 'specially if there's a hearing." Taking another sip of his drink, he brings it to rest on his thigh as he contiues looking between her deeply-green eyes. Their lining and shadowing is such a thing of art in itself -- he couldn't be blamed for getting briefly enamored with them. Even saddened, it's a thing of beauty.

"What d'you need me to do to help you?" he asks quietly.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet just siiiighs dreamily as any teen at Steve's expression. It turns to awareness when she processes (eventually) the question he poses to her.

"Oh. Oh! Uh... well... nothing," she admits, wistfully. "Sorry baby. I wish I could give you someone to go beat up for me. It's just a... I don't know. It's weird," she comments. "Everyone cheats a little on their taxes. The tax code is designed to be gamed, you're a fool not to." Janet sips her drink. "But audits are huge. We're talking a dozen agents coming over my tax forms from the last three years. I'm not wild about shelling out another million or two in tax fees, but I'm just trying to understand /why/," she seethes. "I've never faced a major audit like this before. Not personally. It's going to cost me a fortune in attorney fees just to stay ahead of 'em."

Captain America has posed:
By the dry pull of his mouth to one side, Steve isn't impressed about hearing of this tax code gaming. However, knowing it to be a case of the past and decisions already made, he lets the impending lecture slide.

"You think you're being framed?" Blunt about the supposition, he then sips at his drink as well before momentarily extending his reach to set it on an end table. Then, turning back, he rotates his shoulder to rebury it into the couch. The gentle grooming of the back of her hair returns as he once more slings his arm along the furniture's backing.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Oh, stop making that face at me," Janet says, and mooshes a palm over Steve's lips to aim his scolding rebuke elsewhere. She leans hard into the gentle fingertips teasing at the nape of her neck, almost falling over herself with a feline pleasure.

"I'm not being /framed/, just..."

Words hang in the air like the drink hoisted midway to her lips. Janet's eyes flicker back and forth, thinking. "Framed? Why- why would you say 'framed'?" she inquires, carefully. One can almost feel the way she hangs onto her train of thought by barely the skin of her fingertips, as if Steve's words have spurred her into a new train of thought.

Captain America has posed:
Steve's fingers continue playing with the dark silky locks and apparently attempting to entice her to lean back further, perhaps for the indulgence of a neck massage to the best of his stretched ability. His own true-blues shift as well, appreciating the spark of renewed vigor showing after seeing such shadows cross over her face.

"Call me idealist and //maybe// biased, but you're a good person through 'nd through. Hey, I mean it -- you know what I meant," he spluttes, waving his free hand with a laugh. "I mean you're an Avenger. Nobody takes up that ideal without meaning to do some true good in the world. We're not perfect, but we're sure as hell not going around undermining society -- and we're targets, even if it's not for photographers or for somebody with their eyeball glued to a scope. Maybe...I dunno, have a PI do some snooping for you?"

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet rests a hand on Steve's fingers to prompt him to stop, more because if she melts anymore she might just fall off the sofa. It takes her a second to find her balance again.

"I don't pretend to be perfect, honey. I mean, perfectly gorgeous, but I definitely don't have a rep as being a law-abiding citizen," she reminds him.

"Anyway. Yeah, I hired a PI to look into the FEC stuff and some of the smaller shit that's cropped up." She frets her lower lip, thinking. "But... that seems insane, right? Like someone being *behind* all this?"

Captain America has posed:
Being the gentleman that he is, the Captain pauses in tempting the buxom young woman to melt into the sofa. It is late, after all, and he knows in the back of his mind this is contributing to her propensity to succumb to the lure of a neck massage.

"I've seen a lot of things, Shortcakes..." Steve gives her a look vaguely sympathetic. "Had a lot of people try to malign my name too. Seems a shame to be suspicious, but...it's a bit coincidental with the amount of trouble on our plate right now." A gentle pat of her thigh though and the man sits up, offering a hand for her to take. "For now though, it's getting on the witching hour and sleep's important even for superheroes."

With the trademark Captain America voice set aside, he stands and leads Janet from the couch to one last lingering hug in the privacy of the fashionista's office. "It'll turn out alright, <<seillean>>. It will," he promises to the warm sweetness of her hair.