007; strip my senses.

[norea]

Who: Hasibe Ozcelik, Irene Adler, and OPEN.
What: Just another night of expensive debauchery.
Where: The Vault.
When: Sukkardi.
Notes: N/A
Warnings: Sexuality, BDSM, swearing, probable allusions to drug use. Sex club, y'all.

Hasi debuts a new costume on Sukkardi: thigh-high stockings, black lace underwear, a corseted wasp-waist, and a sheer black blouse with long sleeves and a high collar. It is so sheer that her torso, aside from her stomach cinched in by the wasp, is visible, including her breasts and the nipple rings she wears. As one might expect, this attracts some attention, accentuated by the fact that in her high heels she is a head above half the crowd. She wears her hair loose, and makes her rounds with charm and a smile; if she is discomfited by recent events in her life, she'll never let it show. This is her job, and her job right now is to make sure everyone else has a good time, that they feel wanted, that they feel that they fit in--and it takes precedence over her worry about reprisals from the Candlelighters.

Plus, she has a wonderful new show lined up, and that gives her something to be pleased about--and good reason to entice everyone she can find to sub-stage B, when her second act of the evening (her first, on the main-stage, with the fire-dancing, is still performed earlier in the night, though this time it also includes aerial silks) occurs. The VIP lounge is especially relevant to her conquest, as she hasn't forgotten her promise to seek out Xenian-friendly high rollers for Xavier.

And now she isn't pretending to be anything other than Xenian.

Comments

MISC

[norea]

Do what you like here!

[asklepios]

Meeting Lucius at the Vault isn't a date; realistically, if Benevenuta gets laid tonight (a possibility she isn't ruling out--) the most he'll have to do with it is receiving a text that she had a nice evening and will find her own way home. What it is: a friendly night out for a bit of a laugh, because after he tossed his hair about having had a meeting there, yes, truly, this whole thing will be worth the expression on his face when she blithely said how lovely, he can show her around!

The red heels that make a burst of colour through her skirt's split stand out the most in her otherwise unobtrusive arrival, holding onto her clutch (if only inexplicable sword-hiding skills applied to other items) and moving, after a few moments consideration, toward the bar. It's not a bad place to start, and even if it doesn't occur to Lucius to actually look for her there, it's probably the first place he'll go, too.

[amourpropre]

She is right, to the surprise of no one.

Lucius stared balefully and unmoving in front of his wardrobe for the few minutes it took for him to dress in, well, black, although certain movements allow for the dark red satin lining of his frock coat to be visible in small hints and glimmers of rich colour, while a patterned sheen dances along black hem. There is silver at his cuffs and on his fingers, and it's taken him a while, since arriving in Baedal, to be able to look like money, which was once his normal state of being, and probably gives a false impression that he is here to spend more on his evening than just the entry free and a few drinks.

His cane is held like it's a thing he has to take around with him, although not entirely inelegantly. CiD is in his other hand, preparing to coordinate her to the bar-- before actually looking towards it and noticing, first, flashy silver and then the woman wearing it. Slows, speeds back up, slipping the device into a pocket.

Lucius has been here exactly twice. Including right now. He looks slightly hunted, but also cleaner shaven.

"Well," he says, tone gently sardonic, and slightly more comfortable automatically now that he is in the vicinity of someone familiar, "I think we've already exhausted my knowledge of the layout."

[asklepios]

“I had a feeling,” she laughs, not unkindly, raising a hand (put a bra on, Benevenuta) to catch the bartender's attention; he's occupied at the other end, they have a moment before Lucius can retreat into the safety of alcohol. She already has a drink - a Sazerac in a lowball glass - and she slides it slightly closer toward her as she shifts her knees not to crowd him as he joins her.

A moment later, off his expression-- “Courage, man.”

[amourpropre]

Lucius takes a seat next to her, hooking cane in place against the bar itself, and ignorant to his own guarded tension until Vanessza points it out to him. "I'll have some on ice in a moment," is a muttered quip rather than flaphand dismissal. Once the bartender does make his way over, the drink of choice is a double gin with only a splash of tonic.

"It did occur to me that had I chosen to change my mind, you wouldn't be wanting for company."

[asklepios]

“Your fulsome compliments, Lucius,” with a slightly dry tone, taking a sip from her glass, “what will I do with myself.” In theory, some of that company he mentioned; it's not as though the Vault has any shortage of interesting ways she could pass her time. She's noticed a few already, but nothing she feels the need to move on quickly.

If nothing else, she's always got time.

[amourpropre]

"Well, I was also referring to the nature of this place. Better to abandon you here than the usual sort of establishment." Lucius' drink slides over once alcohol and ice is fussed with accordingly, money passed back in turn. He spiders his fingers over the top of it, watching detached the configuration of ice in the transparent mix, before glancing back at her and raising his glass in subtle cheers. "But I suggest; be flattered?"

Sip. He's managed to get the straggled ends of his hair snipped a few days ago, looking less like he rolled through a war to get here, and he fits in enough for all that the length and cut of his clothing always manages to side step purely Muggle fashions. Still, he feels decidedly out of place. And that's, by his standards, not terrible.

[asklepios]

Her laugh is quiet but not precisely subdued -- measured, and it's less like artifice precisely (although she is that, but so good at it now) than it is a kind of benevolent distance. She's so present and still always at a remove.

“I will,” she decides, lifting her drink in a brief salute, assessing him over the glass's rim, still smiling. “But now I am curious. What do you make of the nature of the place? When you're not abandoning young women to it.”

[amourpropre]

No more obscene than the rest of this city, he could say. Or, lucrative. Both of these have their pros and cons and are ultimately discarded, pressing a thin non-smile as Lucius again regards his drink, taking a gentlemanly lean against the bar as he casts a look out to their surroundings. Crows-feet lines at his eyes deepen in analytical squint.

"Stylish," he offers.

[asklepios]

“I'll drink to that.” It struck her as a good occasion for the skirt - flashier than she'd usually be, an impulse buy as a reward after a long day, an indulgence she should probably lay off while she's figuring out how to keep paying Rex Lewis. Indulgence seems like the name of the game in here, though, and she's inclined to be in favour.

Crossing her knees, she inquires, “But you don't partake?”

[amourpropre]

It's a nice skirt, and Lucius isn't one to label anything gaudy for all that, these days, he dresses like a raven that is either having a sleek day or a ruffled day. She crosses her legs and he glances down where it opens, red shoes an elegant reminder for him to look up again and at her question. He can imagine what his answer would have been, a couple of years ago. Certainly not.

But then again, he wouldn't even be giving her the light of day, let alone attempting to earn some of her's. He's not sure he can afford to be insulted.

He isn't, either. "No," he says, simply, a slightly wry upturn at the corner of his mouth, chasing after some fleeting reflection in the bar top as he responds. "Typically. Stylish, but for someone else's sensibilities, I imagine. Yourself?"

[asklepios]

“Maybe,” in a thoughtful way, letting her gaze wander (catch, linger-- move on) what's visible, the sheer variety. “If it is to my sensibility...I'll never know if I do not try, no? Hm?”

A life's philosophy boiled down to its simplest parts. Try it; see. Maybe you'll like it. She shrugs in and out of mortal lives like she's trying on dresses, twisting this way and that in the mirror; is this really me? Is this the one?

Try it; what's the worst that could happen?

She can always buy another skirt.

[amourpropre]

The difference between feeling precious about your own sense of time, versus having so much of it to spend. Almost the difference between Vanessza chasing what's on show with her eyes in distanced regard and Lucius analysing the configuration of ice in his drink and the light bouncing off polished mahogany, and sometimes, Benevenuta's ankles.

That, and he's married.

Cosmically.

"Young women are permitted to enjoy certain liberties," he says, instead, bringing his gin and its shadow helping of tonic to drink from. "I believe that's written down somewhere. Where you came from--" And he almost wants her to say yes, here, having some sort of mutual understanding would be good, although goodness knows why. "Did you have anyone?"

[asklepios]

The gesture is unconscious, her left thumb sliding between her fingers, pressing the space where she doesn't wear a ring (any more-- diamonds from Edvárd, Alec's plain, battered gold band, further back, even, and all of them in a jewelry box in her flat, heart's history condensed into something she can carry); she shrugs, lithe, and shakes her head with one of those small, wry smiles. “No, I have been...'at liberty', for a while.”

Nor is she seeing anyone here, for a 'relationship' value of seeing; booty-calling Tom doesn't count and her admittedly slightly odd friendship with Lucius doesn't, either. She's still getting her bearings here, in some ways, dealing with that which is even more strange and fantastic than she is, and here more than home she does feel as if she needs to understand what she's getting into.

Life was easier when she could divide the world into mortal and immortal; life here is interesting, and she doesn't begrudge it.

“But I'm enjoying my liberty, like you say.”

[amourpropre]

There's a second where he wonders if he is being invasive (because turned back around, if potentially from someone else, he would count it to be), but then she responds, and Lucius knows no true visceral reaction after all. He isn't sure, exactly, what his duties here are as a husband, if it matters, because maybe tomorrow Narcissa will appear in a green tiled room or maybe Lucius will disappear like others have, like Severus did.

Neither of these possibilities feel real, somehow, or even likely. There aren't many examples to follow, as a result. Vanessza does not present one.

But he followed her here anyway, even if all he partakes in is a drink two parts gin. "Clearly," he says, a rather swift quip despite some other part of his mind wheeling away in self-indulgent contemplation, casting another look out from their immediate vicinity; aaand back to his gin-retreat, although even he can see a degree of humour in his own reserve. "I suppose that uncomplicates matters."

The first time you looked / at her curves you were hooked

[djravenfall]

If you've ever had one of those moments where you have no idea why it is that you're doing something, something you would probably never other wise do, and you're pretty sure it's only raw curiosity that drives you, than you know how Kaitlyn feels as she nervously makes her way through The Vault. She can blame Irene for this easily, the woman's description of the place had piqued her interest more than she'd ever be willing to admit.

The Vault is far and away different from any place she's ever visited before, and now that she's actually here, she's taking in the sights with a mix of awkwardness and amusement, a wide smile on her face as she shies away from getting too close to anything or anyone. For the moment. Lord knows how the night will go once she gets a few drinks.

[cerebral]

In amongst all the meetings and greetings of the evening, Charles decides to slip away for a quiet moment to himself and manages to steal a seat by the downstairs bar. He seems thoroughly unperturbed by his surroundings --and why should he be? The Vault embodied what going on inside people's heads on a regular basis, except now it was out in the open. Honesty is the best policy, after all.

Martini by his side, CiD in hand, he appears to be making notes and shuffling appointments around. Busy busy, as usual.

[asklepios]

“Dr Xavier, isn't it?”

By this point in the evening, Benevenuta has shed her blazer and she drapes it on the low back of the barstool she slides into beside him; she's done a circuit of the room, making a few interesting new acquaintances (and an appointment, that's for later), and now she's back at the bar for another drink (Sazerac, as before). She's a little flashier this evening than her colleagues typically see her, but she and Charles Xavier have had little reason to cross paths in the workplace thus far - she knows of him, can put a name to face, but beyond that...

What an interesting place to make his better acquaintance. The thought makes her smile, like she's inviting him in on a private joke, but with that ever present hint of some separation. Maybe it's because he's a telepath-- no, probably not. She's wary of that, conscious of it as she keeps her always orderly thoughts on safe paths, but she's just always like this.

"Vanessza Bernát. Trauma surgery.” In case she isn't quite as memorable.

[cerebral]

Luckily it's downright impossible for Charles to forget a face. He turns when he hears his name and smiles upon remembering Vanessza. "Yes, that's right. Genetic counselor working mainly from the Family Clinic, but you know how these things go."

Only after the auto-pilot niceties are over and done with does he remember the nature of this club and what an interesting place it is to bump into a colleague. His forehead creases slightly, seemingly lost in though for a second, as he tries to think on how to continue the conversation.

"If this were any other place, I'd be inclined to ask if you come here often. But I think that's perhaps a little too personal." Best to address the elephant in the room immediately, etc. And best done with some humour to it.

[asklepios]

“That would be very forward of you,” she laughs; lazily playful, not quite flirtatious. (Even at a slight distance, well, they are co-workers and she's generally found not fucking those to be a smart policy. Getting your genitals involved in interdepartmental politics just never works out; just ask Shonda Rhimes.) “But, no-- I was curious.”

There's not really far around personal you can go, when dealing with the Vault as your subject matter.

[cerebral]

"A member of our cohort who works here was gracious enough to give me access to the VIP area." He points upwards at the jellyfish-like structure descending from the ceiling and strains his head backwards for a moment, watching the glimmering lights.

"I'm trying to find some funding for a project. Strangely enough, this place is rather egalitarian, so long as you have the cash for the door fee. Otherwise everyone is welcome, which means it's a good way to inter-mix and, ah, make friends in high places." He turns his full attention back to Vanessza. "If you'll forgive the pun."

[asklepios]

“How could you have resisted that?” she laughs, following his glance to the Ctenophora for a fleeting moment. It's beautiful just to look at; the view from there must be fascinating, and the thought diverts her momentarily. (Only momentarily.) “What sort of project, if I may ask--?”

[cerebral]

"A community resource, primarily for vulnerable people in the city. Either because they're discriminated against here or they were back in their own world." The CiD gets slipped back into his pocket, any necessary notes and appointments having been made.

"It's all nice and well to give people two weeks of shelter, some vouchers and a bit of cash --equal treatment, and then a shove out the door. But for the people who aren't on equal footing when they get here, for the people who need a little bit more time... There's very few places for them to go." He doesn't add and that's not right, but the look on his face says it plainly.

[asklepios]

Not everyone in Baedal has Benevenuta Crispo's experience when it comes to hit the ground running. They don't all have her ability to pass for an ordinary human; they don't all have her lucratively marketable skills. The picture he paints isn't one she has any trouble grasping readily - she knows herself to be an exception, and not the rule.

(By nature. Her birthright and her responsibility.)

After a moment, “When you find your funding-- I would be very interested in hearing more.” In a professional, give me a job here capacity: “My medical background is in non-profit, I was at a clinic in Paris before this.”

If he gets his good idea off the ground...it's worth having a conversation, she thinks, worthwhile enough to wedge a foot in the door before there's even a door to walk through.

[cerebral]

"Gladly." The enthusiasm in Charles' voice is audible, but then a doctor on staff would be invaluable. With the impressions he's made tonight --and now this-- it feels as though all the pieces are starting to click into place quite neatly.

Speaking of which, "I don't think funding is going to be too much of a problem. I could sense that several of the people I met tonight were interested." 'Sense' being more than operative in this case. "The next part is finding a suitable place to work from."

Of course, he would need something like that right when he can't get access to his gigantic mansion. Typical.