9794/Let's Get This Candy, Babe

Let's Get This Candy, Babe
Date of Scene:	27 October 2019
Location:	Steve's Room, Avengers Mansion
Synopsis:	As Bonnie and Clyde, Janet and Steve brave the high-falutin' world of fashionable Halloween parties.
Cast of Characters:	Wasp (van Dyne), Captain America

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Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Halloween in the suburbs means candy, youthful costumes, and usually some mild pranks. It's where sheets are cut up to make ghosts and superglued radios become robot parts.

In New York, it's one of the biggest social events of the season. Particularly among the world of dilettantes, fashionitas and media personalities, it takes extra work to stand out in a sea of beautiful people with incredible artistic talent.

"Will you stop messing with your tie?" Janet scowls up at Steve and steps closer, undoing his necktie with a flicker of fingertips. "I don't know what you think a Windsor knot is, but that isn't it." The cut of her A-frame dress clings tight through her chest and waist, flaring out into billows under her hips. A black beret completes the look as 'Bonnie' adjusts 'Clyde's' necktie.

Though, perhaps Bonnie's dress was a bit more modest in the hem and certainly didn't expose so much of Janet's bare shoulders and back. The neckline plunges scandalously low, partly obscured by a smart checkered scarf tied loose around her throat.

"I hope people get the outfits," she frets. Janet glances nervously at the doors leading into a penthouse loft in SoHo. "Now I'm thinking maybe we should have grabbed prop guns or something. I /hate/ to lose out to Gisele again," the petite fashionista mutters darkly.

Captain America has posed:
Patience becomes him, that Captain Rogers, and he lifts his chin with a muted smile as the tie is fussed with for what feels like the umpteenth time. He hazards it's nerves on Janet's part, given the broad swathe of upper-crust presence sure to be attending this particular shindig, and does his absolute best to be the stalwart, calm presence he's famous for.

"If they don't get the gist of 'em, it's on them, not on us," Steve opines quietly over the distant thump of music behind the penthouse doors. "'nd it doesn't matter if we lose to this Gisele or not. Y'know why?"

Steve slinks an arm behind her to plant his palm at the small of her back and draw her in. He tips up his fedora, black with a white satin band and Ace of Spades playing card tucked into the band, in order to kiss her smack on the lips in a rather bold display. "Because you're my moll 'nd nobody else matters. Pretty sure we're the winners here, hmm?"

In a white lightly-pinstriped broadcloth shirt beneath a steel-grey striped worsted vest, double-breasted buttons in perfect lines down his center, Steve's refined if broad-shouldered in his get-up. Fitted pants match the vest, of course, and the black on his spats shine. The rose pinned to the vest's lapel shines richly-red.

"Let's go knock 'em dead, sugah," the Captain then says, offering Janet his arm.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet look up in surprise when Steve leans down to kiss her; for a moment she forgets the tie and beams a grin brimming with delighted surprise. Wrists hook behind his neck and she leans into the kiss, one foot kicking up behind her. Realism be damned; Janet's definitely not wearing period correct heels.

"Ooh, yoah so good t' me," Janet says in a breathless Chicago accent. A nimble pirouette steps her out of the way and tucks herself up into Steve's arm. "But I am /not/ losing to her again," Janet adds with another dark mutter.

The brim of Steve's fedora is given a firm tug to let it hang rakishly over his eyes, and Janet propels them both along with a quick step as they plunge into a whirlwind of fabulous costumes.

"Heidi! You look amazing!" Janet calls over to an older blonde woman. A fast greeting is waved between the Wasp and the leggy blonde dressed in black lingere with a cat tail tied to her hips and whiskers on her nose.

If there's a common theme to the party, it's that the beautiful people are definitely showing off the goods. Steve and Janet stand out all the more for their period-style attire. "C'mon let's go get some drinks!" Janet pops up on her tiptoes to be heard in Steve's ear, and he's nudged to direct his trajectory to the bar.

Captain America has posed:
Rakish and composed, the Captain escorts his moll onto a scene of moneyed Halloween costuming. There are...lots of goods on display. Even Steve is checking himself and wondering how he's //still// not used to this every year -- nothing changes, in the end, given those who know they look like a million dollars certainly dress like it (and spend some sum of that working towards it).

Heidi in her feline-themed get-up is given a two-fingered salute from the Captain's temple and a faint smile in passing. Feeling Janet's shift in weight press her hold to his arm a little harder, he leans in a touch to hear her request. A nod and he steers them through the clottings of conversations towards the open bar.

"Gin rickey," he tells the attendant barkeep, smiling to himself. "What're you having, shortcakes?" Janet is given a dimpled grin now. Someone's pleased with himself for knowing a period-appropriate drink he'll actually enjoy rather than sip for the sake of theme.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Ooh!" It seems it didn't occur to Janet to think of something until Steve prompts her. Green eyes flicker over the liquor on display. "I'll... have... how about a Southside Cocktail," she requests of the barkeep. He and the rest of the hired waitstaff are dressed the same; period correct formal waiter clothing.

"Gin does seem about right, doesn't it?" The fashionista stays close attached to Steve's hip and comfortably in the protective arc of his arm. A pair of women in heels skitter up to Janet, exchange quick hugs, and with apologies depart again leaving promises of returning in their wake. "So we've got two more parties to do," Janet reminds Steve. "There's a corporate party, that'll be fairly short. One fundraiser I'd like to hit, they donate the proceeds to Future Farmers or some charity like that." The details are waved away by flickering fingers. "And then, we'll have the BIG party at the fashion house on Halloween Eve. For the capes and tights crew," she clarifies. "You know. So we can keep an eye on anyone who gets *too* blitzed," she clarifies.

Captain America has posed:
Liquor in the appropriate glasses gleams translucently from the behind-bar lighting as their drinks arrive with professional aplomb. Steve nods gratitude to the barkeep before he brings his to his lips. Mulling the taste over his tongue, he glances down at the drink in pleased surprise: it is very period accurate.

The flittering arrivals greet Janet, in and out as quickly as butterflies over a flower, and the Captain glances over at her after watching the pair depart. "I don't expect anyone to get too sloshed, but you're not wrong." The admission arrives before another sip of his drink. Steve idly scans the crowd before looking back to Janet again. "Hopefully a good handful of folks can show. I've got my fingers crossed that nobody tries anything nefarious because I already wear a flag-suit...don't really want to have to go stop somebody set on starting a ruckus in whatever costume 'm in next." How drily the Captain complains; it's almost as if he half-expects this to pan out as such and hates it already.

"Pretty sure you're right though, it's Future Farmers they're donating to, the fundraiser," he adds. Spotting Heidi's other half in the crowd, Kaulitz, he directs a nod towards the man. Kaulitz, dressed as a lion by the fashionably-sleeked lion's ruff about his neck, gives the Captain a grin and salute in return; he's already appreciating the liquor, apparently.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Isn't that kind of cliched?" Janet asks with a wrinkle of her button nose. She perches on a seat and crosses her legs towards Steve. The toe of one shoe nudges against his hip with an idle possessiveness, keeping him firmly in her personal orbit. "I know the Fantastic Four run into that, but who'd be stupid enough to try something on Halloween?"

Fingers curl around the stem of her martini glass. Janet takes a healthy swig of gin and coughs once. "Oh wow, that is strong," she admits, eyes watering. The glass is set aside.

"Tony will probably make an appearance. We can try to bring Thor and Bruce along. Carol, of course, maybe Kitty Pryde-- darling girl, I /love/ her," Janet confesses to Steve. "She's so sweet natured. Anyone you wanna invite? Orrrr ask to the big Halloween party?" she prompts him, and beams a sunny smile up at her beau.

Captain America has posed:
"More'n a few folks would be stupid enough to try it," Steve reminds the Wasp blithely. His drink is to his taste, apparently, and he sips more of it down. Of course, the liquor will do nothing for him whatsoever, and there's no chance of Asgardian mead on the bartender's shelvings.

For her touch at his hip, Janet garners the gentle warm weight of Steve's palm on her knee -- it's a silent reciprocal gesture in turn. He considers her question with a small, knowing smile, eyes momentarily shaded by the brim of his fedora.

"I'll see if Buck wants to attend. Oh -- " and Steve pauses deliberately. "You mean //ask//." As if there had been an obvious difference in tone. There was, but he's being cheeky. "Gosh, Janet, why you don't you attend the big Halloween party with me? Got a costume idea for you..."

Dangled like bait, the comment.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Oooh," Janet grumbles, turning it into a scornful noise. Her ankle twists and she pokes Steve in the hip quite deliberately. The narrow-eyed remonstration fails to conceal her pleased expression though. Under his palm her knee lifts slightly. "See, was that so hard?" she scolds Steve. "I mean, you /can/ bring Bucky if you want," she says, with a sudden indifference more akin to a feline. Janet's fingers curl under her martini glass and her leg shifts minutely away from Steve's touch, feigning withdrawal without actually following through with it. The swirling melee of partygoers is given an examination of renewed entrance. "I'm not gonna stop you, of course. You know. You do you," she murmurs into her martini. Her tone clearly suggests what *she* thinks Steve should do, of course!

Green eyes go round and alight on Steve. "I mean, if you'd *rather* go with Bucky, I can always see if Carol will be my plus one. You guys can sit at the bar and complain about how no one dresses up for work anymore and how food is too expensive!" she suggests with a beaming enthusiasm. "Or... whatever it is you guys talk about, I guess."

Captain America has posed:
As Janet grumbles, her beau laughs to himself and flashes a pleased grin. A little good-natured teasing never went astray in the Captain's book. Little tells here and there, faux withdrawels and redirections, are all watched with the self-same patient amusement. Steve's eyes gleam from beneath his hat. What lift of his eyebrows to follow the hazarding at super-soldier banter can't be seen for the fedora.

"Gosh, shortcakes, you're thinking we'd lean at the counter 'nd whinge about old-timey things like that? Pfft." He chuckles and gives her knee a gentle squeeze. "Rather have you at my side. There'll be a SHIELD party, 'm sure, 'nd he'll be there. We'll spare you our 'old man grouching'. But..."

His broad shoulders shrug as he extends the word out teasingly. "If you wanna bring Carol as your plus one, 'm not stopping you either. You're your own lady. Dunno how well she could pull off Anthony to your Cleopatra though."

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Mmm, I don't know, she's got the shoulders for a toga and some Roman armor, don'tcha think?" Janet retorts with a gamin grin. "I'm not saying it'd be perfectly period correct, of course. I'm on the fence if I wanna go in Egyptian regalia or Greek garb-- she was technically Greek, you know. Alexandrian," Janet clarifies. The gin's smoothing out or she's getting buzzed; either way she gulps back more of it and signals the bartender for a refill.

"If I remember my art history courses, anyway."

Fingers curl into Steve's lapel and she gives him an imploring look. "I'm sure Carol would /love/ to go with me, but I think it'd look better overall to have you there," she wheedles. "The outfit just doesn't work if I don't have my Marc Antony do go with me. And if you don't have a Cleopatra, people will think you're just a Generic Roman Soldier. The whole effect, it takes two people," Janet reminds him.

Captain America has posed:
"I believe you're right. Alexandrian," the Captain echoes as he finishes the last of his Gin Rickey. He sets aside his glass and signals for another of his drink, not seconds after Janet does the same. His free hand not settled upon her knee lifts to untangle her fingers from his vest. A gentlemanly kiss is pressed to her knuckles in reassurance even as he speaks with the same intent to soothe.

"'m happy to be your Anthony, Janet, don't be tizzied. You're not wrong anywho -- having no Cleopatra would make me nothing more'n a legionnaire in pauldrons 'nd a skirt. You let me know which tack you want to take though, Greecian or Egyptian. I'll be sure to stop by the office for you to drape fabrics if you want to stick your fingers in that pie." Steve grins something fiercely in tease now. To deny the fashionista a chance to dictate how he should be dressed? For shame!

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Janet's eyes light up at Steve's words and she stands slowly on the barstool, heels hooked through the rung under the chair. Her fingers curl into Steve's lapels once more, this time for balance, and she hauls herself up him like a swimmer breaching the pool wall. "See, you /do/ know just what to say to me," Janet assures Steve with a fond adoration. "Oooh, we're gonna have so much /fun/!" she squeals. "I haven't done a good couple's outfit in ages. I wish Halloween was more than one day."

She starts to disentangle herself from Steve. "Order me another drink? I'm gonna scoot to the ladies. I'll be back in a second." The motion to clamber down is checked mid-step and she hauls herself up to whisper something in Steve's ear. It's apparently licentious enough that it require a brush of red-painted lips against his earlobe, and when she breaks away, the pinking on her nose from the stiff drink spreads into an unashamed little blush. Janet retrieves her purse from the countertop and intercepts a pair of women headed that direction that are known to her; with a faerie and a very under-dressed cop on her arms, 'Bonnie' skitters off to the restroom.

Her presence is replaced quite smoothly a few seconds later by a redhead who smoothly integrates herself into Steve's proximity, with shockingly blue eyes and a low-cut dress that would serve in a bordello version of Pirates of Penzance. "Captain Rogers, it's /so/ nice to meet you," she murmurs. In heels she's almost of a height with Steve, and her body language is shockingly familiar. "I don't think we've had the pleasure. I'm Karen. I'm just... /such/ a fan," she gushes, quite breathily, and with a smoulderingly direct amount of eye contact.

Captain America has posed:
Careful to counterbalance the cling of the petite fashionista as so her heels don't pull the stool forwards and onto his feet, Steve even takes a moment to lightly settle a hand overtop the flat of her stomach in caution. He laughs softly. "Of course, <<seillean>>, it'll be the bee's knees." He nods in acquiescence to ordering her another drink.

The whisper for him alone? It sets nerves to jangling and his own cheeks color up into the tips of his ears. "Eh-heh heh," is about all the Captain can manage rather than any clever comeback. He's rubbing at the heated back of his neck and watching Janet sashaying off in her ganster moll's dress -- such a view, love to watch her leave -- when his attention is broken.

Minutely leaning away from the redhead, the Captain clears his throat and straightens rather than continuing to lean against the counter of the bar. "Karen, evenin'. Nice to meet a fan. You came with somebody else to the party then?" His tone is enviably even, tactfully polite, even as his and Janet's drinks arrive post-haste. He takes them into his hands, therefore shutting off all access to his hands to be grabbed, at least.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Oh no, I'm here with some friends. But... alone. Going stag, isn't that how they used to say it?" Karen's pressing her momentary advantage for all it's worth, but Steve's skilled social tactics put up a buttress in front of her in the shape of a pair of drinks in his hands. She looks down at them with momentary dismay, then back up at Steve's true-blue eyes. "It's just so nice to meet Captain America himself," she says, in that same breathy voice. "You know, you're a national treasure. A hero," she observes. Fingertips momentarily rest on Steve's wristbone. "If you'd ever... like to get some... /coffee/ or something, sometime, I'd really enjoy tha--"

She's cut off by a bristling presence insinuating itself between her and Steve as Janet returns and simply steps right between them. Steve is stolid and reliable as the Rock of Gibraltar, of course, but when Janet returns to her spot, it's like two like magnetic poles encountering one another-- and it propels Karen back a solid few steps as the petite fashionista beams an utterly chilling smile up at the redhead.

"Karen, /so/ nice to see you," Janet says with a demure and insincere smile. The fine hairs on the back of her neck are fairly bristling with a suggestion of hostility. "You old so and so. I thought you were in Miami."

Karen's eyes flash as if suddenly, dreadfully insulted-- but she backs away from Janet, nervous as a gazelle in her towering heels. "Janet, darling. I just.. came over to say hi to Captain Rogers. You know. As a grateful American."

Janet bares her teeth in a smile. "You're so thoughtful, Karen," she tells the redhead, and eases a half-step forward into the taller woman's personal space. Despite the difference in height, Karen backs up /again/, looking a bit nervous. "I'm just so glad I got to see you here. Do come by the fashion house this week, let's... talk business," Janet suggests, and rises on her tiptoes to exchange a cheek-kiss with the redhead that looks more like a Sicilian kiss of death.

"Yes, uh... of course. I'll... see you later, then," Karen murmurs, and turns with as much dignity as she can muster to flee posthaste.

Janet watches the woman depart and turns smoothly on her heel to stare up at Steve's face with a narrow-eyed suspicion-- them expression quite mollified by a thoroughly smug expresssion. "Making friends?" she asks of him.

Captain America has posed:
Damn, the drinks work to an appreciable if incomplete extent. Steve's eyes fall to Karen's fingertips laid upon his wrist and then up to her face again. Something cool enters his gaze and his expression closes off entirely.

Karen is saved -- saved? -- by Janet's reappearance. The super-soldier watches her quickly gain not only distance for them both, but ward off the redheaded interloper entirely. Long legs carry Karen away very much like a gazelle in full retreat and he's nearly at the bottom volume of his sigh once Janet asks her question.

"Dunno if I'd call it friends. Think 'm lucky that I didn't get groped this time," he says, voice shockingly cold and clipped. Janet's second Southside Cocktail is offered to her as Steve then visibly smoothes his own ruffled feathers. "Here, your drink. Who're your friends you talked to?"

//Those// friends seem a safe-enough anchor of conversation.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
Well, luck can't last forever. Janet insinuates herself against Steve's side and pinches him rather posessively. At least she's relatively discreet about it. "You don't know Cara and Gigi? They're /wonderful/, I adore those two," she explains. The drink's accepted with a socialite's limpwrist and she takes a few healthy gulps. "Right now Victoria's Secret has them locked down tight, but we're all very firm friends. I keep thinking, 'this is going to be the year I blow up the eveningwear line' but--" Janet sighs a little melodramaticaly and gulps down some gin. "I'm just not as inspired by it. For some reason, my test audience seems to respond better to vintage wear. Wiggle dresses. Flapper girl outfits." She directs a look of insincere rebuke up at Steve. "No idea why," she adds nonchalantly.

Captain America has posed:
"I couldn't hazard a guess in all my long-lived years as to why," the Captain retorts in an equally nonchalant manner. A smile ghosts over his lips as he eyebrows over at her. A healthy swig of his drink entices a passing grimace; the strength of the sipper taken in like a shot makes itself apparent. "Maybe that's your niche in the industry right now? Could run with it, take advantage...strike while the iron's hot."

His true-blues scan the crowd again, like as not making sure no one's lingering with intent to approach them further. Perhaps the rebuking of Karen made enough of a point.

"Who else do you know here?" Glancing from her and out at the crowd again, he seems honestly curious.

Wasp (van Dyne) has posed:
"Uh... pretty much everyone," Janet remarks, looking around. "It's kind of a small world. Fashion, I mean," she clarifies. "Not much bigger than the capes and tights crew. You've got your models, your drapers," she says. Janet's chin dips in a nod at certain clusters of people. "Designers, producers, a few promoters. Actors and agents. Self-made media personalities, people who got big by being seen with the right people or doing something outrageous on social media."

Janet finds her seat and hooks Steve posessively close again, hand resting against the demarcation of an oblique under his suit. "And Manhattan royalty. The Sbarros, the Rockefellers. Kennedy's and Astors. Blue bloods of New England," she sighs. Janet looks up at Steve. "You know the van Dynes were here in the beginning, right? We've been in New York since the 17th century. If my great-something granddad had been a bit faster, Plymouth Rock might have been 'van Dyne Islet'," she remarks with a moment of sour grapes.

Captain America has posed:
Steve presses a kiss to her temple in passing as if to honey up those sour grapes.

"Really. 'm not surprised to hear that, especially if your family had been here for that long. Mine's much newer'n that." With a final tilt of his glass, he turns at the waist to set it down on the counter. Quietly speaking with the barkeep means he's closed the proverbial tab, given the party's likely been paid for entirely, drinks and all.

"You finish your drink 'nd we'll get moving to the fundraiser. Bet I'll know more folks there than you. It'll be my turn to introduce you to some faces this time around." His smile is pleased and a bit relieved. In theory, the crowds at the fundraiser will be less thirsty and more interested in bettering mankind. Regardless, Clyde and his Bonnie leave the scene of this party, off to another in the cool autumn night.