1963-06-05 - A Different Turn
Summary: Gambit and Mystique intercept Tony Stark at a supposed meeting that falls through.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
tony raven gambit 

La Caravelle is one of the premiere fancy restaurants in Manhattan; where the who's who of the financial world often times make an appearance, dropping close to two hundred dollars on meals that were usually half eaten and discarded at the table along with ashtrays of used cigarettes that were barely smoked. Waitstaff were often dressed in black and whites, their hair primp and proper which was befitting of an establishment. There were often appearances by Steve McQueen in attendance, often times accompanied by a myriad of slightly famous faces. One most notably Francis Ford Coppola, but sadly he wasn't in attendance this night.

The establishment was busy as it usually was, a soft harp plays in the backdrop against the soft tunes of a piano, a few people turned their chairs to watch the duet played with cigarettes hung from their lips as staff weaved through their table with cloths on their arms and fine wine to be poured into the flute made glasses. In attendance on this night?

A few of the political heads that sit at a circular table create especially for them, the lights dimmed as they go over the latest plans that doesn't exactly scream democracy. Papers were pushed around in a circle as each and every one of them takes out their spectacles to gloss over the designs of their latest plans, while another leans to the side to whisper something about funding.

Perhaps that's why they were there. So far, Stark Industries were the leading entity when it comes to the industry and what they have planned for their own towns may or may not fit with Tony Stark's designs.

'Well.' One of the men croaks out. 'We just got to wait for that spoiled bastard to get here. Feed him wine and make him sign the papers.'
'I really don't think we should approach Stark with a proposal like this. He's a little wet behind the ears.'
'Well, with dear ol' dad dead I'm sure he's trying his best to make something of himself.'

The men laugh and raise their wine glasses, clinking against each other in a form of a toast. Just in time for Raven to pass by the table, clutch held with a gloved hand, chin tilted upward, smug. Snobbish. The full delights of an heiress in play and the garb to match. Her seat was close enough to dip into the conversation, and close enough for a lingering eye to cast a glance upon the bared thigh that was shone as one leg crosses over the other.

LOGNOTE: Change Francis Ford Coppola to Hershell Gordon Lewis
%r%rGambit moves into position and takes a seat not far from the musicians. Clad in a business suit with a loosened black tie, mussy dark hair and a pair of large sunglasses, he slowly smokes a cigarette as he looks out over the tables, with the polticos being within his view. An eyebrow flickers as Raven does her thing, but no more. Mentally he thinks about the shortest route to his deck and to his bo-staff which can extend quicker than you can say born on the bayou.%r%r"What's with the glasses?" says a slightly drunk man as he moves into Remy's line of sight. Irritation could be an outcome, but the Cajun is too good for that. Instead, he just rolls with it.%r%r"Wit de band, mon ami."%r%rA slow grin opens up on his face until the interrupter moves along.%r%r

Gambit moves into position and takes a seat not far from the musicians. Clad in a business suit with a loosened black tie, mussy dark hair and a pair of large sunglasses, he slowly smokes a cigarette as he looks out over the tables, with the polticos being within his view. An eyebrow flickers as Raven does her thing, but no more. Mentally he thinks about the shortest route to his deck and to his bo-staff which can extend quicker than you can say born on the bayou.

"What's with the glasses?" says a slightly drunk man as he moves into Remy's line of sight. Irritation could be an outcome, but the Cajun is too good for that. Instead, he just rolls with it.

"Wit de band, mon ami."

A slow grin opens up on his face until the interrupter moves along.

LOGNOTE: Remy's duck client is lame. Sorry about that, Raven.
Tony wouldn't say that he arrives late. He'd say anyone looking for him arrived early. Or simply had unreasonable expectations, expectations which he is under no obligation to meet. He's clad in a nice suit, although his tie is a bit looser than the standard deviation. Probably because of the three martinis he had while still at the office, resulting in Tony himself being looser than the standard deviation.

"Gentlemen," he calls out, seeing the cluster of jowls harrumphing to one another with overpriced booze. "Fancy seeing you here. I think you were sitting in the same seats the last time I came to this lovely restaurant. Do tell me if the upholstery has you epoxied in place, I'm sure I can come up with a solvent that can do the job," he says.

He holds up a finger, "Before you even think, dear boys, of trying to approach me with business, I'll point out that it's the cocktail hour. By which I mean it's anytime after three p.m. And I have a very strict policy about that sort of thing, in pursuance with my compliance with overtime regulations circa the CEO Labor act of 1913, whereupon I, Anthony Stark, am hereby required to completely ignore anything related to work until at least ten o'clock tomorrow morning. If you have anything that desperately needs attention, you may always call my office and speak with Miss Potts. She will then tell you that I'm far too busy for you and to come around sometime after ten o'clock tomorrow morning."

"Thank you and have a pleasant evening," he says, heading over towards the bar. "A round for the house, good sir, and then get these other people something to drink as well."

The men rise as soon as Tony makes his appearance, each of them re-buttoning their suit coats in preparation to shake hands with the infamous Anthony Stark. But they stop cold as their plans do not go their way, each of them looking to each other with confused expressions as Raven casts a glance towards Remy's direction with a slight smirk that does not go unmissed.

'But Mr. Stark, Sir..' One of the men tries, but Tony was already heading towards the bar.

With Remy close by, it was time for at least a distraction tactic while Raven handles the politicians.

'I dare say, that Stark is a rude rambunctious scamp. The foulest kind!' The man nearly barks out loud enough to fall back into his seat, the little bounce knocks the table and spills a glass.
'Listen, all isn't lost yet. Let me handle the kid and you guys just sit tight.' The larger man squeezes past his comrades in approach to the bar where Tony is.. while Raven slowly rises from the table to put on her best smile.

"Gentlemen? I couldn't help but overhear the missed opportunity. My apologies. But perhaps I could offer a different alternative?"

When Tony makes his way to the bar, Remy sees his chance. He arrives just a split second after the billionaire, and intent on stealing his keycard, getting entrance into Stark Industries, making off with tons of secrets, hopefully some that net him a lot of cash, hopefully some that shed light into any information on mutants Stark might be collecting (that he can get for Raven) and then everyone goes home happy. Except for Tony.

Remy nods to Tony. "You look familiar, somehow," says the young creole. "Dun I know you from somewhere round he-ah?"
Tony takes the martini from the bartender, lazily swirling the olive on the end of his toothpick around, "I'm Ed Sullivan. Do you want to be on my show?" he says, taking a sip of his drink. "Let me guess - a ventriloquist. Where's your puppet? Don't tell me it's another sock puppet, I'll die if I have to endure another odiferous foot stocking with googly eyes," he says.

He signals to a waitress by slapping her on the behind as he goes by, "Priscilla, bring me a telephone, a snifter of Scotch and a plate of shrimp cocktail. Then come sit on my lap and tell me I'm pretty," he says, planning to move past Remy unless he is properly entertained.

'Ho.. ho.. hooo, Mr. Stark.' The man approaching them cuts off the leave of Tony with a raised hand and a not so nice smile. Remy nearly gets glared at, but if the man wasn't making moves to catch Tony's attention, he would. "Now now. We think you should at least come to talk to us to hear what we have to say. It wouldn't be wise for you and your company to ignore businessmen and politicans of our calibur. If your father was still alive, he'd see this as a glowing opportunity for you to crawl out of his shadows." The man grins, sardonically. "Come, lets have a seat at the table, you can have your wench and liquor after." The man was clearly insistant, and wouldn't take no for an answer.

Raven on the other hand worked the table like a champ, she managed to take the vacated seat, laughing and smoozing with the big wig as her hand rests upon the table, leaning forward with a spill of blonde hair, a nudge, and a gesture to the left to carefully lift one sheet of paper at a time. "Drinks for everyone!" She calls out lovingly, her gloved hand lifting towards a passing waiter with a few snaps of fingers as the champagne begins to pour and overflow.

'Why Miss Donahue, you are quite the dashing damsel! If I were a younger man..'

"Don't be naughty, Robert! Now drink up! I'm not spending my money on your fine gentlemen so your spirits could go cold!" She laughs obnoxiously, though her eyes were searching out for Remy, waiting for the time to take her leave from the rambunctious crew or.. maybe in need of a rescue that doesn't turn too lethal.

As Tony gets up to make his move and leave, and is then accosted by a third man, Remy acts quickly. Over goes the drink, "I'm so terribly sorry!"

The Cajun begins to dab and wipe on both Tony and the man he just spilled all over and in the ruckus, he makes his move for the keycard!

Tony's keycard is, no doubt, swiped up by Remy's deft fingers, easily scooped away from the dashing, if intoxicated, young genius. "You are, are you? Somehow I doubt it," he says with a bemused expression, making his way over to his table and waving off any further attempt at dabbing.

He takes a sip of his scotch when he arrives, lighting a cigarette. He'd pay more attention to Remy, were it not for him catching an eye of Raven at the other men's table. Now, what is a choice piece like that doing with those old toads? Someone's spinning a web - the question is, who are they trying to catch?

The drink was spilled on the fat man, his eyes widening as the red wine stains his red shirt that possibly cost more than the highest priced plate in the establishment. He howls his disappointment, the quick dabbing spreading the stain so much that the angry man goes so far as to lift a fist to try to haul off in Remy's direction.

With his missed chance with Anthony Stark, and the quick insult that was thrown his way by the young billionaire, the drink tossing was just enough for him to grow embarrassed and it stoked his fire. "You INGRATE!" He hollars out towards Remy. Lord knows the fat man would miss..

Raven snatches her glass from the table, preparing to raise it into a toast until she sees Tony as well, looking at her.. her looking at him.. one brow raised and a cool smile in his direction. It was completely jovial, until the man hollars out in Remy's direction with has Raven standing defensively. "Oh.. oh my.. oh dear!" She shrieks out. More fuel to add to the commotion. C'mon Remy.. show your stuff!

Remy stands and holds hands out, making a scene in showing how terribly sorry he is for everything. Already security is moving to escort him out, which is exactly what he want. "You are right, mon ami. I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean to, I couldn't possibly, no it's okay, I understand. Yes, I'll be leaving. Please do give those men a drink on me." He fumbles for some cash that's nowhere near enough money to buy anything at this place, and drops it on the floor, just before he's taken out the door. Just like he wanted to be.

Tony isn't particularly distracted by Remy, because he'd already figured the guy for some sort of con artist or schemer. Of course, he probably imagines him more likely to be someone trying to sell him skeazy real estate or wanting an investment in his get-rich quick scheme. Those kinds of men can be dangerous, though, especially when spurned - of such things are the occasional supervillain made.

"Settle down, Norbert," he calls out to the jowly man, "You and what I must presume would be your grandaughter's friend there are just fine, no harm done. I know, your suit is ruined, but, was it, really? Nobody complains if someone spills mud on a grass-stain," he says.

He takes a drag on his cigarette, "If the young lady would prefer company that isn't likely to have their teeth fall out in their cognac, she can feel free to join me at my table this evening. I promise not even to get fresh. One of those two things is a lie," he says, nodding to Priscilla as the phone is brought to his table and he starts to rotary dial the office.

The fat-man was upset. The guards were quick in their snagging of Gambit, which allows Raven to calm herself and to not react as she -may- have. All is well and good. No need to bust heads and show herself off just to get them two out of a jam. The safehouse was well and secure, so Remy could at least enjoy himself to a drink and a few cigarettes if he so chooses, and the way this night was going? It looks like she won't be out right away. There were more papers to grab.

While the other men in the booth depart to tend to the fat man, Raven takes care of collecting two more sheets of paper, stuffing them both into her clutch as she gives a quick shuffle to her left. At least until her arm was grabbed by the one closest to her, giving Tony a shake of his head.

'She'll be staying with us tonight. Sorry Mr. Stark, perhaps we could persuade someone else to share your time?' At least he was polite.

Raven leans into the man, smile still laced across her face, giving her arm a tugging pull out of his grasp.

"You'd do well to not touch me again." Her tone was low, and hushed, and as the man gave her a glare, his lips curling to reply? Her left eye shifts yellow and back, giving him a start. "Thank you!"

Shuffling from the booth with a few ditzy hops and a grin, her chair was pulled out and a seat taken with Tony, drink still in hand, head turned to watch and make sure that Gambit was at least safe. "That was such a dust up there, wasn't it?" She asks politely, turning back towards Tony and giving her best, alarmed and worried smile. "I do hope that poor fellow is alright."
Gambit has disconnected.
Tony smiles, "That poor fellow, yes," he says. Like Raven, he's much more than he lets on. It's perfectly useful to be the charming fool in public, to let others think of him as a dilettante who inherited wealth and technology (never mind that he himself patented everything the company's done for years now - nobody checks the paperwork).

He could tell from those flicked eyes that she knew Remy as more than a stranger, but did that mean she was in on whatever scheme he was hatching? Maybe, maybe not. At the very least, she was much more pleasant to look on. "Tony Stark. I'm afraid I didn't get the chance to hear any of them gurgle your name," he says. He can't help but enjoy the discomfit on the face of the older men, knowing that Stark had gotten one over on them again.

Raven obviously was more than meets the eye. As she carefully sets her wine glass upon the table, she keeps her clutched pressed to her stomach as the men behind her fuss over the papers. Even waiters attend them, looking beneath the table, in between the seats..

"Malin." She states, with a grin, drawing her hand over the table with fingers pointed downward, keeping her hand dainty and lip for him to kiss her knuckles if he so pleases. "Malin Severide." Thankfully, Tony didn't hear the false name that she gave him, but oddly enough, this one fits.
Tony takes the hand and does exactly as she indicates, leaning in and brushing a kiss on each of her knuckles, perhaps lingering over the work a little too long. He just wants to make sure he's done his due diligence, "My pleasure," he says.

"So, what exactly were you doing over there with those underinflated zeppelins? You aren't related to any of them, judging by the way they were leering, unless, of course, some of them have a more twisted family tree than I'd imagine."

One brow lifts aloft. Raven has to appreciate his gentlemanly candor, her own fingers squeezing his briefly then drawing away to rest upon her wine glass. She takes a little sip, forcing a little color of a blush to sample her cheeks.

"Oh! Me? Well, I did happen to overhear you give them the ol' snub, and they seemed upset. I thought I'd just use my due dilligence and charm to cheer the men up. Besides. My father is a slow, up and coming who's who in Manhattan. I had to pass the Severide name around -some- kind of way to help Daddy achieve his dreams." She fully faces him now, no longer worried about Remy. Now she was focused on Stark, an unexpected stroke of luck to their plan.

"But they do seem the type, yes?" She murmurs quietly, glancing back towards one of the men who positively glares in the young Stark's direction, which is made worse with Raven (read: Malin's) flirtful little wave. "The old crows who'd give their own ilk a shakedown.."
Tony smiles, leaning back in his chair, "They want me to sign off on some contracts that could make them even wealthier and fatter. They work for a variety of energy conglomerates and they want me to agree not to impede on their business model with any of my inventions or, at least, give them a cut and the chance to monetize the technology before I release it. In return, they promise to give Stark factories and manufacturing preferential rates with their various utilities and products, including oil and gas at a substantial discount," he says. He takes a long sip of his martini.

"I'm going to pass. Not only because they are odious and pungent men, but because, if I have my way, oil and gas will be obsolete in the next decade and I have no desire to waste my titme attaching myself to a failing and inefficient technology in its dying throes. Especially not for something as trivial as money," he says.

'Malin' shakes her head slightly as she listens, finishing off the rest of her wine with a single gulp. The glass was carefully set upon the table, and she listened to him with earnest, her mind working through the paperwork that she had effectively stolen. Without a clear look at it, she couldn't see exactly what it was for. Thankfully Tony was giving with the information.

"But, in turn, wouldn't that make your pockets fatter? It's all sounding like a very lucrative investment to me on your end. Their success if your success, vice versa. Besides, energy and technology comes in waves. Steps. You have to get to one place instead of jumping to the other, correct?"

She tones down her volume, understanding his ways. "Money is trivial to you then. I suppose that its why you're here? Practically spending a weeks paycheck on horrible champagne and borish entertainment?"
Tony sighs softly, "Oh, I enjoy wealth. It's not trivial. But there are things that it can buy and things it can't. The kind of technologies they want me to perpetuate create pollution - I mean, take a breath outside, the mingling of fumes in the air gets worse by the year. You'll be lucky to walk through the city without a gas mask on soon enough. Don't get me wrong, there's a time in my life when I would've probably jumped on their offer, just at the chance to make a bit more money. But I've learned there's more to life than cash."

"And I don't buy the horrible champagne, I buy the excellent Scotch. As for the entertainment, I'm enjoying myself so far, so I can hardly complain. You can't let a few sour old crab apples spoil the lot."

"Mm. Automobiles I believe have already brought us into that direction." Raven muses. "Not to mention the many industrial factories that take for us to build such mechanisms." But, she wasn't going to continue further. The men were starting to grow just a little bit alarmed, looking into her direction and the way she holds her clutch against her stomach. So she does something bold, possibly something that has happened in both their lifetimes combined.

"I don't think the crab apples spoiled the lot. I think they've actually enhanced it." Her hand lowers, fingers circling around the rim of her champagne glass, the coy look spared for the man across from her as her cheeks feign their rosy tint. "I.. do dare to be so bold, but why not take the level of your entertainment and enjoyment to it's highest point?" She leans closer, a teasing grin upon her lips. "Perhaps an activity that would leave you.. wanting?"
Tony considers, arching an eyebrow, "My highest point, you say? That's a bold statement. I can assure you, I've climbed many peeks in my day and gone into many valleys. As an experienced explorer, my standards for such things are rather lofty. But I'm certainly up for a challenge. Although I definitely prefer satisfaction to wanting - I'm not some ascetic who likes to do without," he says with a smirk, distracted for the moment from any potential schemes or bon mots with the simple fact of flirting. There are few things he likes more, even considering science and booze.

"Yes. Your highest point." She teases a little, her hand striking out to capture his tie, her fingers twirling around briefly as she winds it up with her hand. "Now, what if I were to exceed your standards? Yes.. you'd have your satisfaction but you.." She tugs him closer by the tie, which obviously, causes the table to shake and the phone itself to crash to the ground in a rather elaborate display. There will be no phone calls made this day.

".. are guaranteed to want more. I'm a Severide.. after all." She really, really enjoys that name. She was going to milk it until it was burned -out-. "I'd even put a daring wager on it." She lets him go then, drawing herself to a stand, tucking the clutch beneath her arm as her preparation to lead. "Unless you have other pressing engagements."
Tony shakes his head, "None at all," he says. He would alert Pepper to the potential security threat posed by Remy at a later date. If he remembered. He almost hoped he wouldn't. He reaches out and takes her hand in his where she clutches his tie.

His smile broadens as he moves to stand with her, "Priscilla, go ahead and charge everything to my account. For the gentlemen over there, too," he says. No reason he can't be gracious, especially since he's the one walking out with a girl on his arm, "Now, tell me more about this wager - and what I get if I leave -you- wanting more…"

"..You should possibly pray to the good lord that I don't. You'll be in for a world of hurt." Raven's sultry tone was added to the comment as she takes her leave from La Caravelle. The mission thus far? Was a success.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License