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*
Global technological advancement has reached a strange place. When the iron curtain fell across Europe, it also further blocked sharing and communication and created an unusual culture of competition amongst those engaged in science, math, engineering, and technology. The call had been made nearly six months ago in Austria to draw people to engage with ideas in a neutral place. Many, from both East and West had submitted papers, presentation proposals, and sessions of various types.
Strangely, the Austrian government appeared to kick in scholarship monies as well in order to ensure none would have trouble accessing the conference should they wish to go. When asked about these monies, it was argued that they were, indeed, necessary in order to continue scientific advancement across the board.
The conference has only just begun, and already sciences, wannabe nerds, and tech giants have taken to the idea well.
The poster session, like most conferences, operates as an opportunity for junior scholars (some incredibly junior) to interact with more seasoned veterans in the tech-savvy world. Furthermore, it presents investors opportunities to see what different global venues may merit attention.
And perhaps, most importantly, it serves as a bit of a meet market.
And, it seems, the Austrians spared no expense.
The booze is free.
Line across a large great room are posters of various sizes depicting different types of advances in science and technology. The representation from east an west is incredibly effective. There's a poster demonstrating the importance of radio technology. Led by leading innovator Klaus Thurston of Swedish fame. Another discussing the importance of robotics from Wilbur Needle — a Canadian expert. And, of course, one that describes nano robotics by Victor Von Doom of Latveria.
Countless other posters line the walls. Oddly, not many stand with their posters, and are choosing to linger at the bar in the centre of the room…
*
Viennese wine is superlative, though little known in the west. A delectable Gemischter Satz in a glass dandled from slim fingertips serves as the preferred accoutrement for the California-born attorney cousin to one of the greatest scientific minds of his generation. She might just half to take notes on his behalf, while mingling in the circuit with polite smiles, light comments, the occasional patter of German greetings restricted largely to please, thank you, and what a big equation you have.
Jen does not have a poster, though jury's out if her cousin does. What she represents is the flipside of the scientific equation: the intellectual property world of the United States, the legal ramifications and regulatory bodies speaking through so many bureaucratic mouthpieces they adopt a white-noise drone. Engaged in an animated conversation about UN provisos and regulations on the transport of radioactive materials intended for scientific purposes — only fair, given the IAEA is anchored on the Donauinsel a few kilometers away — she ends up halting her progress to see the two conversationalists refreshed and bombarded by one ticked-off Turk. Time to flee.
*
When Danny decided to attend the conference, New York City wasn't currently hosting a horde of demons, vampires, and who knows what else. But Danny Rand doesn't have any reason to reschedule or avoid the conference. Danny Rand can't do anything about supernatural attacks. So Danny Rand, of Rand-Meachum Enterprises, is here at the conference to scout for talent, ideas, and things to invest in.
She's just exceptionally fidgety.
She's managed to slip up to the bar for some of that free booze, finger tapping on the counter as she waits for her drink. In the meantime, she looks through the faces in the crowd, gaze skipping over the posters without ever fixing on one in particular.
*
Tony may have a poster…in fact, Stark Industries probably sent him with one as well as an Assistant (not Pepper, strangely enough) to make sure that the poster was out on the floor and that Tony actually appeared for whatever presentations he was supposed to be at. It's actually a good idea as Stark isn't by his poster — he's not going to sit around and wait for people to chat with him. Tony's social! The assistant then, is left back with the poster and the metal briefcase that she is tasked with her job to protect.
The free drinks, however, is just plain cruel since he's been trying to stay dry. Pepper isn't here though, so maybe he'll just have one drink. Or two. And maybe he'll look around for something to eat as well. Surely the Austrians have provided something to nosh on while they're drinking and schmoozing!
*
It might come as a surprise to some that Johnny Storm is not at the bar.
Wearing a well-tailored suit in the same shade of blue as the Fantastic Four's famous uniforms, the youngest member of the team is in the middle of a very animated talk with a group of equally young fellows with a booth of their own — they've traveled from Africa to show off their experimental water purification technology.
"You can't be — you've had trouble getting funding for this?" Johnny asks, and he sounds mildly horrified. He holds up a finger and goes digging in his pockets. "Hang on, let me get you a card. We're doing a thing…"
*
Akiva meanders around the fringes, curious but not intervening in anyway. The luminaries will draw their attention, of course, which allows an intelligence agent of sufficient prudence and observational powers to learn a great deal - about them, about their discoveries, about the development of science. In addition, Akiva himself has a scientific bent, as a surgeon and psychiatrist.
He smokes mildly near one of irrigation projects, interested to see if any of it might applied to the Israeli environment. The Dead Sea, after all, did not offer a great deal of options in regards to water.
*
The Da Costas are definitely at the upper end of the wealthy spectrum— enough that when Roberto da Costa shows up at a party, he's not doing it just for fun. There's enough check-writing potential right there for the young man to make anyone young inventor's financial dreams come true.
He is, of course, at the bar, drinking with a few of the booth babes, laughing, chatting them up, and generally carrying on like a wealthy young socialite. "So, wait, you tell me again— how's this work?" he inquires of one young woman. "The ore extraction process, you can't do it in tap water— right?"
The lady launches eagerly into an explanation of how her process works, and Roberto attends her with rapt attention. It seems the booth babes at least have some knowledge of their products, and Roberto seems to be enjoying their company much more than some stuffy scientists trying to sell him their new process.
*
At an event like this, with such a broad international representation, few would acknowledge any prejudice against racial or gender biases, but they are there, rife throughout the social strata. The presence of a young African woman, not as someone's arm candy, but as an actual scientific presenter, definitely causes ripples.
When that same woman is accompanied by two or three tastefully dressed representatives of the security forces of her African nation, moving as not just scientific presenter but also Head of State, those ripples could well become tidal waves.
T'Challa was originally invited to the conference as a member of a delegation from Empire State University in the United States. Their presentation on high-energy systems for power generation and transmission is heady stuff, to be sure, and right down her own personal alley. But the tall African woman, moving through the crowded hall in a sleeveless black sheath dress, perched not on high heels but simple flat-soled sandals, moves with an assurance no mere graduate student could ever sustain. And she does not hesitate to engage even the likes of Victor von Doom in conversation.
*
Dr. Priya Parker and Dr. Richard Reilly are here because of Science. They wouldn't not be here. Whether or not they are representing OsCorp in a traditional sense is unclear. What /is/ pretty clear, though, is that their son Benjamin Parker Reilly has tagged along and he looks just as hip and happenin' as he should.
His keen eye for fashion has elevated his usual look to something a bit more fitting the circumstances. He's rocking an American Flag shirt with his signature gold chain hanging around his neck. There's a big diamond stud hanging from his ear lobe and he's got on some jeans and sneakers too. Because that's just how he does.
He's not drinking yet. Instead, he's just hanging loose and getting his mingle on while his parents talk that science talk. He doesn't look like he belongs here but give him time. He can talk shop with the best of 'em.
*
Truly pure research science and celebrity rarely go together. This… is not always the case at a Convention like this. It is also something Dr. Reed Richards is rapidly becoming more used to, though his somewhat casually-worn dress shirt and tie might suggest otherwise. He's sure The Four have a poster of there own here somewhere. He hasn't seen it yet, however, as he's been stopped pretty much constantly on his way around the room.
It's occured to him at least half the people that ask him for his scientific opinion on this or that concern just want to be seen speaking to him, wither as Dr. Richards or Mr. Fantastic. All of which is just fine. He's happy to dole out his time— and an opinion on any given project— to anyone that wants it.
Curious, though, that he is studiously avoiding the Latverian poster setup. Nope, nu-uh, absolutely not even curious, he's under super-strict orders not to court disasters. If he even wanted to in the first place, truthfully.
*
It's fortunate that the Fantastic Four had spent weeks pulling together their set to ensure that everything has been prepped and re-prepped for the conference. Because both Sue and her companion had arrived later than anticipated. The flight from Canada had been delayed thanks to a storm, and the pair of ladies had, consequently, arrived just before the session to get everything prepped.
Standing back, staring at the description of the flight and its effects, Sue arches an eyebrow before swirling her large glass of wine and stating towards Heather, "Not too shabby, Ms. MacNeil. I think we pulled it off." She raises the glass to her lips and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Much like her brother, Sue wears the same navy as their uniforms, but hers, unsurprisingly, is in a navy dress. And then, as an aside, her eyes narrow, "You didn't see any pigeons did you?"
The wine is brought to her lips, and she cranes her neck to spy that Latverian poster down the way. Her nose wrinkles..
*
"Not a single pigeon." Heather is clinging to her wine as if it's a life line. Hair of the dog or whatever they want to call it. She does look a little pale. The flight was an adventure, to say the least.
"And I did check," Heather says in a low voice. "I hope you know I'm vastly out of my league here," she adds. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, getting out and about — and to an event she'd have been at anyway if Mac were still alive — but now? People here are very shiny, very beautiful, very wealthy, and very intelligent. "So if you need me to go double check about the pigeons, well…"
*
ROLL: Jennifer +rolls 1d5 for a result of: 2
*
ROLL: Tony +rolls 1d5 for a result of: 2
*
ROLL: Johnny +rolls 1d5 for a result of: 4
*
ROLL: Sue +rolls 1d5 for a result of: 5
*
ROLL: Roberto +rolls 1d5 for a result of: 5
*
ROLL: Reilly +rolls 1d5 for a result of: 5
*
ROLL: Reed +rolls 1d5 for a result of: 3
*
ROLL: Heather +rolls 1d5 for a result of: 2
*
ROLL: TChalla +rolls 1d5 for a result of: 4
*
ROLL: Mree +rolls 1d5 for a result of: 1
*
While the Latverian poster remains in its spot in the corner, the Latverian delegate pads about the room with a small entourage of sycophants that seem to be paying a stitch too much attention to his every word. With disdain he strolls about the room, eyeing the posters with more than a hint of disdain. His chin lifts and his head tilts as if attempting to make sense of one in particular before shifting his weight, clucking his tongue, and simply shaking his head. A smug near-smile pulls his features upwards, and his arms cross over his chest. "It's incredible what passes as genius," Victor muses in English towards his cohorts… evidently he wants others to hear his contempt.
*
ROLL: Danny +rolls 1d5 for a result of: 3
*
Roberto spots a familiar face— Jen Walters, fleeing a lengthy argument over IP and other lawyer-ly concerns. "Perdoname, chicas," he tells the women at the bar. He adjusts his collar and ascot (no tie— how 1955), and walks towards Jen. He's dressed rather trendily, though at least he's not peacocking with a paisley shirt again. Just a well-fitting grey suit, the trousers featuring a subtle bell, and a cerulean undershirt. Still, it's hardly business attire for anyone but the spoiled VP of his father's industrial manufacturing concerns.
"Jen Walters, que paso," he grins at the lawyer, offering her two hands and a polite kiss to the cheek. "What brings you to this little shindig? Are you shopping for yourself, or just here to see and be seen?" he inquires of her.
*
The poor assistant was also probably told to keep an eye out on Tony, but she can't do that -and- stay by the poster to answer questions. She's trying to watch as he makes his way towards the Latverian poster. He was going to ask about it but, well, no one is there. There's a sigh before he makes his way back to the assistant by his own Stark Industries poster. "I'm getting another drink. I apologize in advance if you have to call the cops or any other security." He almost seems to mean it.
*
Mree doesn't really get much of anything here. But he doesn't really have to, either, he's merely here as an appendage of a larger group. He's not making decisions. He's holding things. Things, presently, including an armful of carefully put together and nicely bound promotional folders, all redolent of leather. The boss is talking to someone about something, and Mree's attention wanders, even if his feet still bear him vaguely after her. It's all a bit marvelous, isn't it? Not to mention that the trip has been exciting and the entire experience perfectly pleasant, so far.
*
After he's passed off a card and chatted a little more, Johnny bids his current conversation partners goodbye and turns to start winding his way back to the Four's table. Unfortunately, that path seems to be bringing him directly towards Victor and his entourage. As soon as he hears the man's voice, Johnny cringes and ducks his head, bringing a hand up to shield his face from view as he tries to hurry past Von Doom and his group. Do not engage, do not engage, do not engage…
*
Danny's drink arrives just in time, and she takes the glass with her as she leaves the bar, taking a solid swallow. No ladylike sipping here. There are enough smart people in this room that having a few drinks isn't going to make her any more…not a genius than she already is. She's wrapped up enough in her drink that she almost runs into Tony as she leaves the bar, skipping half a step to the side. Luckily that first swallow was enough to keep the drink from spilling. "Sorry," she winces. "Sorry. Clearly it's not just the brains in the room I can't keep up with."
*
Tony reaches out a hand to try and steady Danny…possibly recognizing her from New York. Maybe. "Even if you can keep up with the brains, it's still worth having a drink." Or seven. It's his plan for the evening as well. "You didn't spill any, so I say we both won."
*
No tie, but a welcome voice recognized among the crowd. Lips to glass, Jennifer stands in the process of downing her white wine in favour of a jaunt out after the departing Dutch contingent when Roberto waylays that hope. So much for that. She might as well be a shock in a black suit, her uniform everywhere. Turning her cheek for the greeting, she says to Berto, "Why, you naughty man. Turning up here out of nowhere and not telling me earlier! Here I thought I was about to start entertaining the justice minister's attache from Paris." Woe betide that fortune. She flashes a warm smile anyways. "Shopping? Of course. Though it pays to keep a fingertip on the pulse of technology and one of my clients is represented here."
*
"I'm going to pre-emptively rescue your brother," Heather says to Sue. She didn't miss Johnny's evasive maneuver, or what passed for it. That is not subtle and yet definitely a good idea. "Assuming everyone minds their manners around here."
Heather crosses the room with practiced ease, nipping in and out of people to be at hand in case Johnny gets accosted by someone he'd rather avoid.
*
Reilly lingers on the side of wherever he's standing because that's what he does. He's people watching at the moment and could easily go forth and grab some attention by launching into one of his songs but he's playing the chill game and making sure that his parents are getting the attention tonight. They are some pretty smart geneticists and he doesn't want to steal their thunder. In fact, he's doing everything he can to make sure people he bumps into head in that direction. Also, he may have grabbed a shrimp from someone's tray. Nom.
*
Victor's head turns just in time to see Johnny shield his face. Amusement crosses Doom's features, and he turns on his heel, prompting his cohorts to do the same. A hearty bellied laugh emits from the back of Victor's throat like some kind of maniacal villain in a Disney movie. "Joon Hyun," he states. A look is exchanged with one of the man's entourage and then he turns back towards the Korean man, "Or is it Johnny Storm? I can't keep up with your ever changing identity." He lifts a hand, presumably to excuse himself from knowing Johnny's current name.
*
Roberto grins at Jennifer, recognizing her distress at being forced to meet and mingle with some of the biggest names in science and technology. It's not exactly fun unless you're the brains or the money. "I stepped in just a few minutes ago. It's not exactly a royal ball— they weren't announcing names, last time I checked. How very bourgeioisie," he says, rolling the word around on his Latinate accentals.
He spots an interesting sight, though, and a brow lifts— then both brows go up. "Hey, is that who I think it is?" he asks Jen, wiggling a thumb at the Wakandan delegation. "That's the Princess of Wakanda, Teechie… teechie, something," he mutters, utterly mangling T'challa's name. He watches T'challa surveying the crowd. "My father's been dying to get a foot in the door with Wakanda," he tells Jennifer. "I think everyone has been. You know her? Can you make with the introductions, or must I rely on my natural charm and boyish good looks?" he inquires, with a saucy grin and a tug of his lapels.
*
Busted. Johnny stops mid-step as soon as he hears his name, closing his eyes long enough to take a breath. Steady on. When he drops his hand and turns towards Victor, he's actually smiling, despite the gigantic red flag that is the other man's laugh. Best behavior. "Hiiiiiii, Victor. Um. Either way, I answer to both," he says, lightly clasping his hands behind his back. "I saw your table while we were setting up. It sounds interesting — I'm looking forward to it." He is concerned enough with keeping his eyes on Von Doom that he is, sadly, oblivious to Heather potentially coming to his rescue.
*
"Please do!" Sue replies to Heather as her eyebrows arch higher on her forehead. And with her friend having retreated, Sue simply sips on her wine and holds her plate, awaiting visitors to the poster like a good presenter. However, a disgusted scoff emits from the back of Sue's throat as Reilly nabs a shrimp from her plate. <AISH! That punk!> the Korean sticks in the air loudly for anyone familiar. "Hey! Heeeey!" Her eyebrows draw together, and a glance is given to the poster behind her. She takes two steps away, only to have her sense of responsibility kick in stronger, "I was going to eat that!"
*
"A physics professor and his assistant are working on liberating negatively charged hydroxyl ions, when all of a sudden, the assistant says—" Reed is in the middle of telling a rather obscure joke to a group of chemistry students when Victor's Voice booms out. Pretty sure 'Johnny Storm' isn't what the assistant said. Reed raises his fingers, frowning thinly. "Sorry gentlemen, I've just realized I may be needed elsewhere, will you exuse me? Thank you." And then he hurries off, snagging a glass of wine with a (very) outstretched arm on his way. He takes a drink and mutters the only Korean he really knows. < Aish. This punk. >
*
"American. We can't do royal titles or acknowledge rank for ourselves, Constitutionally forbidden and such. Thank James Madison in his absolute fear of Alexander Hamilton and the monarchist invasions," Jennifer deadpans to her Brazilian escort, though she stops on the way T'Challa-ward to deposit her wine glass on a tray being carried by someone. At that moment she does a startled doubletake of Reilly, putting a finger to the bridge of her glasses to push them up the slope of her freckled nose. She leans towards Roberto subtly. "Do you know that fellow? He looks familiar, though I never caught the name. And I see Mr. Stark over there, we shall have to go by and say hello. I wonder if Ms. Potts was stuck in New York?" So much for wearing nametags. All the same, her smile comes right back into place with all the consummate skill of an attorney raised and trained. "You wish me to make the introductions to you for the Queen of… Very well, Mr. de Costa." The forward, ready glide puts her straight on the war path for the Wakandan sovereign.
*
Mree's attention sways around the room with a drunken aimlessness, albeit he hasn't imbibe any of the wine everyone's raving about. But it finally comes 'round again as Jennifer stops to speak to Roberto, and the man's flair— well, that's hard to ignore. It even garners a slow-spreading smile in the file clerk, who otherwise just hugs the leather-bound dossiers he's holding to his chest and curls his tail into a fern-like coil close to the back of his neck.
*
Oh dear. Heather is going to watch this to see how it plays out. She finishes her wine and trades it out for a passing glass of champagne, in case she needs to douse someone with it. She scans to see if anyone is… oh dear. Reed at eleven o'clock. This isn't going to be awkward. Why didn't she bring the suit?
*
Danny raises her glass to Tony with a sympathetic look. "Yeah. Well. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for finding something here that'll get the board off my back for some other projects I'd like to get into, but I'm a little bit distracted right now," she admits, taking another drink as she looks around. "Also, I'm suddenly realizing that a solid seventy-five percent of the smart people here are also rich, which is really a gold star for a merit-based system, I guess."
*
Tony makes sure his drink is refilled as he leans on the bar to listen (maybe) to Danny. "Well, either you have the money before you start with the smarts or you make the money from the smarts. I guess there are some outside of that…" probably even here. But then again, Tony has pretty much only been interested in Tony's own interests. "I think they should have warned us if there were kids here hoping to get investors. I'm not adverse to it, but if I'm going to have some grad school student trying to pitch their next new idea, I want to make sure I have a few drinks in me." Are they pitching tonight? Maybe it's why he's having the drinks?
*
Reilly slurps the tail of the shrimp into his mouth and wraps up chewing with wide eyes in Sue's direction. "Heh. Sorry?" He shrugs his shoulders in that next moment because he's pretty apologetic but not really because /shrimp/. "If you'd like to live vicariously through me, it was /delicious/. I'm not even playin'." Reilly just grins playfully. "Yum." Just to add a little more insult to the junry of shrimp loss.
*
Princess? Hardly! But certainly the Starks are anything but the last country, scientist, or corporation trying to reach out to or build connections with Wakanda. But in this kind of setting, some level of diplomacy and politeness will at least by observed, which is far better than in some circumstances for those kinds of meetings. The royals of Wakanda are noted for having rather the acerbic tongues. But upon being approached in this case, the young Wakandan queen simply smiles and lifts a glass of champagne to take a sip, then inclines her head towards the other woman and her Brazillian friend. "Hello. Ms. Walters, yes?" T'Challa offers in a whiskey-toned voice replete with one of those interesting accents most can never place, not helped by her truly international education. How does she know Jen's name? Perhaps Wakandan security made a point of learning the names of various attendees. But that still might make one wonder how she recognized the other woman so adroitly … if one is unaware of just how darned smart the Wakanda queen is. Those few security personnel - two women, and one man - do not close ranks but instead spread out in a triangle around their soverign, looking in very direction, and they make no secret of keeping beady, alert eys on the likes of Doom and anyone from his delegation.
*
Victor's smug smile extends. "So you have, what then — ?" his eyebrows draw together with the question " — three names? Or have you and your friends given up on your," he lifts his fingers and spirits them away with a small flit, "ridiculous pursuits?" His smile turns serpentine and his fingers splay in front of him. "Are you presenting something, Joon?" Victor's entourage teeters. "Or, have all of you waned to the," he smirks, "fantastic that is Doctor Reed Richards: Mister Fantastic himself?"
*
Johnny's smile remains in place as he looks up at Victor. The number of names, he just lets go — his eyes actually pick up a twinkle, however, at the question of presenting. "I am, actually," he replies brightly, eyes remaining fixed on Victor even as his entourage reacts. "Kind of you to ask. It does remind me, though, I should probably check in with Seo to make sure our presentation is ready. If you'll excuse me?"
*
Roberto falls into Jen's wake as she strides towards T'challa, a half a step behind the leggy lawyer. He adjusts his suit so it drapes properly, and as they near the little foreign entourage he steps so he's at the third point between Jen and T'challa, a curling smile at the corner of his mouth. Spotting Mree, he smiles at the fellow in passing, but focuses his attention on the matter at hand— the lawyer and the Queen making introductions. Displaying a surprising grasp of social niceties, he seems to be waiting patiently for proper introductions to be made before venturing a greeting of his own.
*
Timing. Yes, timing. "There you are," Heather says warmly, sliding up to loop her arm through Johnny's. "Excuse us," she says to Victor, equally pleasantly.
As she prepares to retreat, she murmurs, "You and I and social events don't seem to be a very friendly combination." Hellmouth demons. Victor von Doom. It's all bad.
*
Mree ambles along as though with feet of clay, following Jennifer, but at a distance, giving her room to make the requested introduction, but staying handy, in general, and, more specifically, close enough to her as she moves that nobody might think he was here by himself and try to ask him what his business is here. He doesn't have any. Still, it's a fascinating experience. He watches the proceedings with the Queen, uddenly all too aware that his slacks are very slack and even his dress jacket doesn't really fit him all that well. It serves its purpose in letting him blend in — to whatever extent a fellow like Mree could ever do so — but it hardly aids him in exuding the elegance of someone like TChalla. Or Roberto. Or Jennifer.
*
What a fright if Wakandan gifts really extend to reading Jennifer's structured mind. Given the social constraints, the attorney forges ahead like a petite battleship and extends a genuine smile. No curtsey given, but a respectful nod of her head. "Your Majesty, a pleasure. Your reputation precedes you to Wien." A slight sidestep opens the door to Roberto. "May I present Roberto de Costa, heir to the de Costa industrial family?" Selective choice of words is important, and she delivers a far less formal, stiff response. "How have you found the conference so far? The turnout is quite impressive, especially those outside the United States and Europe." She casts a sidelong look towards that other clerk in the employ of her firm, and gives a crook of her fingers. Either he can run or approach, but so much for hiding.
*
Seo gapes at Reilly and shakes her head slightly. "You! You can't eat other people's shrimp. I'll have you know," she states matter of factly, "international incidents have happened over less. And in a place like this," her eyebrows arch. "Well, you need to check your behaviour." Her eyes narrow, "American, I'm guessing?" based solely on accent.
*
"I'll take the grad students over the heavy hitters," Danny smirks to Tony, shaking her head. "At least the grad students remember how to use the small words." High school education would be an overstatement for Danny. If anyone here wants to talk about esoteric eastern philosophy or the merits of one style of kung fu over another, she's all ears. But when it comes to science? Not her forte. "Who's the guy getting uppity with the Storms?" she asks, tipping her chin up toward the group.
*
Mree is hardly hiding. He's just hanging back, letting Jennifer do her thing. Maybe a little dazzled by the collective splendour of things, but it's nothing to phase him unduly. There's a casual tilt of a smile in place among his delicate features, almost as simply by habit, and it warms with a kindly glimmer in his eye when Jennifer summons him closer, prompting him to close the distance with a step, step and a half, taken without haste, drawing him near to her from behind and edging him toward one side, brows lifted in expectation of some task she needs done.
*
Reed is well on his way to interceding betwen Johnny and Doom, when the former manages to graciously exit and it's no longer necessary. However… Reed is a bit exposed now. So rather than simply veer off now that Victor's bound to spot him coming, he throws the Latverian monarch a salute that flows into a bow, completes a follow-through that rotates himself 3/4 of a circle to face left, and… wanders off in search of literally anyone else. Was that mocking? Pretty sure it wasn't meant to be. It's complicated.
*
T'Challa offers an aloof but present smile, at list a hint more real and present than Mona Lisa, and inclines her head just a hint to acknowledge the nod to formality offered by the lady lawyer. She offers the same to the da Costa heir. "Good to meet you, and put a face to the name." she offers him. Her glance towards the green-hued assistant is alert and curious, but neither dismissive nor disgusted. Curious, perhaps, though she is clearly as reserved as any reputation might have mentioned. Keeps her own counsel, this one.
"I have been enjoying the opportunity to see the ideas and the work of so many other worth scientists. It is an intellectual pleasure to expand ones' own mind by the interaction with others' ideas." And it is a pleasure to be seen in such a setting, especially when so few - if any - of the other attendees have any idea of the true technological and scientific stature of the secretive Wakanda. T'Challa makes a point of glancing not towards Doom himself, but towards his table and poster. "I am pleased to see a far wider distribution of talent and interest than might have been expected for this event."
"Ms. Walters, pardon my asking. I would be curious to discuss with you your ideas regarding intellectual property law on the international stage, across borders." T'Challa mentions. "I have some obvious reasons for my interest, as I am sure you can understand." What few - if any - might realize is how much of her interest is in protecting Wakandan intellectual property from outsiders, rather than access to others' advancements within Wakanda. "I can clearly see where your interests might align with a conference of thise type." Glancing at da Costa, the young queen offers, "I assume your interest is of a more pecuniary nature?" There's no derogatory tone in the question.
*
"What gave it away?" Reilly takes a step back and shows off the shirt that he's wearing in all of its American Flag glory and what not. He grins the entire time though. "Listen. I'm sorry about your shrimp. Would you like me to hunt down another waiter and replace it? I can do that. I /will/ do that. If it'll make you smile." Reilly grins. "I don't like frowns. They give me the shakes."
*
"Your Majesty," Roberto says— mentally making a note to thank Jennifer for using the proper appelation for the Queen, and saving him from sticking his foot in the mouth with 'Princess' in T'challa's presence. "Roberto da Costa," he greets her. "Perhaps you know of my father, Emmanuel de Costa— owner of Da Costa Industries?" he inquires, lifting a brow.
"Call it equal levels, work and pleasure," Roberto suggests, a smile curling at his lips. "My father requested that while I'm in America I take up any chance I can get to find connections in the international industrial community, and Wakanda's of course a global byword. On the other hand… how could I pass up a chance to meet the Queen of Wakanda? Friends of mine have spoken of your erudition and your loveliness, and I had to see it for myself."
*
"Small words in this crowd usually means someone's faking," Tony points out before he takes a sip of his…third drink? Pepper would throw a fit or at least look disappointed. When asked about the one with the Storms, he shrugs, "Don't know. Don't care." He pushes off of the bar and starts to walk away. He does pause and glance back over his shoulder, "You can come if you want." He's not going to find out who the man in question is, but instead to the small group gathering around the Wakandan royalty. He's there just in time to hear Roberto introduce himself and he grins, offering the other man a hand, "Da Costa…I know of your dad. Heard your name a few times. Smooth move there, tiger."
*
"Seo is here?" The smugness in his town only grows. "Is she still living in Richards' shadow like some pup — " but Johnny is gone, causing Victor's expression to flatten. And then Reed enters his view with what is likely the most ridiculously mocking greeting he's had all night. His nostrils flare as Reed retreats. Almost reflexively, his lips part, his eyes narrow, and… he stops. His shoulders tense, and his lips quirk into a smug smile. "Which of you saw where Hyun went?" One of the sycophants points, and Von Doom trudges in pursuit. Lucky Johnny.
*
Sue nods once at Reilly's offer. "That would be," she smiles and lands on the word, "appreciated. But you probably should be careful and not take shrimp from other people's plates." Her smile grows and her hands fold lightly in front of her. "While you're at it — " she studies him a moment and then drinks the rest of her wine. " — you're old enough to get me one of these, right?" Her eyebrows lift. "Pinot noir. Please. It's absolutely fantastic."
*
It is absolutely not Johnny's fault that Heather has taken his arm and begun to escort him away from Victor and into the crowd. Nope. He was even polite about excusing himself first. He leans over to murmur in Heather's ear as they retreat. "You are a lifesaver," he says quietly, patting the back of her hand. "Sue's going to need backup. Or an escape route. Victor is… Victor," he explains with a roll of his eyes.
*
"Are you kidding?" Heather chuckles softly. "This is so much easier than chasing my old team around these events. I nearly started carrying a fire extinguisher — just for the deterrence factor." She glances over her shoulder. "I think you have a fan, though. We may not be out of this so easily. I could always faint. Let me know."
*
Danny's glass is empty, and more's the pity. She stays at the bar for a moment, considering having another, before she follows after Tony instead. At least Stark's never boring, right? Besides, there's also DaCosta. And a Queen? Oh, this should be good. She might not even need another drink.
*
Ah! The Queen looked at him. Mree may have been born in London, but he didn't stay there for long, and has never had a chance to gain much affinity for his parents' monarch. But this one has a way of looking at a fellow, doesn't she? It makes his smile blossom all fulsome and warm, a casual but whole-hearted expression, just as natural as a flower opening to the sun. Jennifer might be telling him something. But T'Challa and Roberto are speaking, and even if his ears are for the boss, his gaze rests softly on the other two as they converse.
*
"He's following us, isn't he." Johnny just sighs quietly at Heather and shakes his head. "No, no fainting. Just — find Sue. Tell her it's a Code V," he says wryly, tapping the side of his nose before slipping his arm free of hers.
*
Reilly rolls his eyes for just a moment. "Am I old enough? You must not know who I am." And with that, Reilly is spinning off into the crowd to do that thing he does where he acquires both a glass of Pinot Noir and a single shrimp… that obviously came from somebody else's plate. The raised voice in the background of his return makes that very clear. "Benjamin Parker Reilly. Scientists Son." Introductions are in quick supply.
*
"Truly I would welcome that, Your Highness. We must be mindful that during such a time of progressive innovation in the sciences and technology, we ensure that everyone has equal and fair use or access to what they created. Respect for the inventor is a time-honoured tradition in many places. Laws guard that, but laws are only as strong as their interpretation and action; it's no help if a piece of paper assures a Wakandan design will be given its due but none in, say, the Netherlands or a factory in Singapore acknowledge that." Politics, it's not entirely far from the world that Jennifer stands in place. She smiles nonetheless. "But we may discuss this upon another matter. It is significant that you have come, and given such weight to matters of interest to your country."
Now, then, time to pause for a moment. Jen grins to Roberto. "I fear you're going to have to make do without me. I promised the partners I would call them squarely on the half hour, and that time is coming."
*
Heather remembers where she left Sue and heads in that direction. "I remember why I didn't like these events, and it wasn't just because I'm a poor Catholic kid from Alberta," she says to Johnny. "It's all the people. These things would be great with fewer people." Like, no people would ideal.
*
If T'Challa merely inclines her head again towards Roberto, acknowledging his response to her question. Or perhaps his compliments, however genuine they may have or have not been. "I have heard of your father, and his company." she offers, noncommittally, giving no sign of what she thinks of the man or the company in question.
Before T'Challa can perhaps delve deeper into whatever topic Roberto might want to bring up, she glances instead to the latest to approach, taking in the younger Stark's appearance carefully before the tiniest light of recognition shows in her otherwise impassive visage. Not yet addressed, she does not interrupt his interaction with the da Costa heir, but intentionally hangs back to see how the two young men - whom some might consider to be parallels of one another - unfold. Her intense and alert gaze does not miss the blonde woman following Stark, nor the pleased and rather genuine reaction of Waters' green-hued assistant. Not yet introduced, and unwilling to interrupt Jennifer's brief conference with the young man, T'Challa stays quiet for now.
T'Challa acknowledges Jennifer's words with a weighty gaze, and takes a tiny step back in a gesture to acknowledge that the other woman must, for now, disengage to see to her other obligations. "I will look forward to another opportunity to have that discussion, Ms. Walters."
*
Roberto turns, hearing his name, and shakes Tony's hand firmly, flashing a smile made bright by contrast with his swarthy skin. "Senor Stark, buenos noches," he says. "My father always says, fortune favors the bold. So, I am bold in case fortune favors me," he chuckles.
"Ah, Queen T'challa, might I introduce Seno— er, Mister Tony Stark, of Stark Industries," he tells the woman, taking up the polite slack as Jennifer excuses herself for a phone call. "A man who needs little introduction, I am sure."
"Queen T'challa, might I ask— is Wakanda here shopping for industrial solutions, or are you here to take in the sights as well?" he inquires, snagging a pair of champagne flutes from a passing waiter, and offering one to the Queen.
*
Reed makes a return trip to the bar, downing the rest of his wine and having a quick look to his rear while he gets a refill. No Victor. That… might not be a good thing, but at least he won't have to talk to the man. Victor would be perfectly locvely company if not for… okay, the everything. Nevermind. Something to consider when pondering Multiverse theory, perhaps. For now, there's got to be something interest— Oh, Empire State, the old alma mater. Or.. one of them. And… high-density energy generation. Eeeee. How delightful. He'll just… that way. Yes.
*
Mree glances from T'Challa to Roberto and back again with a soft smile by way of farewell. He's a quiet one, seems like, or else it's just his voice is subdued by his sense of duty. Better seen and not heard. Or, well, optimally not seen, either, but that's hardly feasible, is it? At any rate, he hardly looks disappointed to be called away, but follows along after Jennifer as she goes, trailing her like a loyal hound.
*
"That's… a long handle, Benjamin(?)," the question is, of course, whether Sue can call him by his first name. "Somehow calling you," her eyes turn upwards, "Benjamin Parker Reilly might be conspicuous." Her grin brightens. "Besides, you're American, right? It's like we're friends already." She extends her hand, "Sue Storm," because Americans have so much trouble with her real name. "And thanks for the shrimp."
When Victor knows that Seo is there, it's like he has sonar that hones him towards her. "Or Seo Hyun," he virtually purrs. "Representing Doctor Richards or yourself tonight?" A glance is given towards Reilly, "Or, perhaps, you've decided to move your intellect away from the Baxter residence?" He looks towards the younger man, "Victor Von Doom. And you are?"
Sue's face blanches. She takes a step back, and bumps into the wall with her poster. She's like a sitting duck.
*
ROLL: Roberto +rolls 1d6 for a result of: 2
*
Brown eyes follow Jennifer's and the green man's exit but he then turns back to the group he joined. Queen? Tony arches an eyebrow as the honorific is given at Roberto's introduction but he offers a hand to the woman as well. "I have to say, I haven't met Royalty before so this is indeed a momentous night for me." He reaches to pluck one of the champagne glasses that were passed around, but Roberto nabbed the last two. The younger man is given a slight glare before he turns back to the conversation. "Wait, so you're doing your own shopping? Find anything that caught your fancy?"
*
When Johnny turns around to confront his pursuer, he finds… noone. No Victor. No Latverian entourage. Which means… he hisses an "aish" under his breath and turns to hurry after Heather, weaving carefully through the crowd on his way back to the booth. He occasionally hops to try peering over the crowd to see if yep there Victor is, he beat him back there, of course. Walk faster, walk faster.
*
As Tony turns to Roberto, Danny steps forward to offer a hand to T'Challa, smile flashing. "Hi," she greets. "Danny Rand, Rand-Meachum Enterprises." It's not as big a name as DaCosta or Stark, but it's also a company with a fairly broad base of investments, and one that seems to have a fairly clean history.
*
"Benjamin works. So does friendship. I enjoy it as a concept and as an actualization of our former rivalry over cheap shrimp." Benjamin grins and then tosses a glance off in the direction of his parents have set up shop. "Ah, you'll have to excuse me. My parents need a hand and I've got two." He grins while shaking Sue's hand. "I look forward to running into you again, Sue Storm." And then he's off to help his parents with whatever tech they are going to show off today.
*
The Wakandan Queen nods to Tony when he is introduced - to make it official - by Roberto. "Mr. Stark. I greatly appreciated your display on alternative energy systems." T'Challa offers to the scion of the Stark legacy, well known as a brilliant - and sometimes erratic - inventor. She does offer her hand and takes his when it is offered. "My own shopping? I nearly always do my own shopping." she responds to Stark, and one has to wonder how broadly to interpret the answer.
T'challa glances curiously - or was that disdainfully? - at da Costa. "Actually, I am here as part of the Empire State University delegation, as I am one the team for one of our two projects being presented." Apparently da Costa's friends, who were speaking so highly of her social skills, didn't keep him up on her intellectual and educational pursuits. "Nevertheless, I must approach every situation as not just a woman, or a scientist, but also as a head of state. So my curiosity regarding the subject matter here at the conference truly knows no bounds."
*
Heather takes note of the people around them and decides that, beyond hoping for young Tony Stark to do something drastic and interesting, they're just going to hope to distract Victor — not an easy proposition. She makes sure Johnny hasn't gone far before closing in on Sue. This is really not the time or place to be this hung over.
*
Roberto brightens. "Ah, how interesting! I wasn't aware you were on the team— I'll have to take a second look at it." Spotting Johnny hustling across the room with That Look on his face, Roberto's eyes narrow in concern for his friend. "Er… if you'll please perdoname, Majesty, there is… something that requires my immediate attention." It's not quite proper to excuse oneself from a regent's presence, but Johnny looks like he needs help. Roberto hands his drink to Stark, and then heads after his friend.
"Oyey, amigo— que es la problema?" he mutters, intercepting Johnny and matching his pace as they chase down his objective.
*
Oh, thank goodness, it is the single most distracting person Johnny knows. Johnny's expression brightens and he immediately claps a hand against Roberto's shoulder, leaning over to speak in a hushed voice. "You know how there's that guy at every party who won't take a hint from the ladies?" he asks, then tips his head towards the Four's booth where poor Sue is stuck with Victor. "We have a bit of a, uh… recurring problem…"
*
"Puta… that's Victor Doom," Roberto mutters. He grabs Johnny's bicep reassuringly. "You go left, I go right, get your sister clear— and hermano, you /better/ give her my number when we're done," he says, speaking quickly and quietly. He grins at Johnny with a cocky expression and breaks away, moving quickly.
"Perdon! Perdon, Doctor von Doom!" Roberto calls, moving up to Victor's side. He's young, but he's a veteran of countless social gatherings, so he angles in at such a position that looking at him might divert Doom's attention from Sue, however temporarily. "Ola senor, I am Roberto da Costa— Vice Presidente of Da Costa industries. We're currently shipping Latveria bulk refined aluminum, and I was just wondering if you're prepared for the ten percent tariff that Brasil is preparing to place on exported industrial goods?" he says, flirting dangerously with the truth. Even if it just grabs Doom's attention for a few moments, by threatening his wallet a bit…
*
Tony finds himself with a champagne glass in his hand as Danny introduces herself to T'Challa. He then looks between the two women, "You know, there's this amazing bar just up the block. Not only do they have some of the best wine in Europe, but the food ain't bad. Why don't we blow this popsicle stand and go chat in a quieter setting?" If they want quieter than a bar Vienna, he's happy to order room service.
*
Whatever is going on in the corner, Sue's face keeps blanching at Victor while maintaining her incredibly practiced, undeniably diplomatic, saccharine smile until Roberto interrupts. The voice of the familiar Brazilian causes relief to wash over her face and a more genuine smile to see her sliding a single step and then another away from the fellow who has her cornered.
Victor's eyebrows lift at Roberto's call, and he turns to face the younger man. Von Doom's eyes narrow and lips purse. "I believe," he virtually spits, "we have already established a price with our your tariffs," his nostrils flare and he stares daggers at the Brazilian. "These agreements will not be rescinded," his gaze remains on Roberto, "without considerable work from your government." His hands ball into fists at his side.
*
Roberto talks fast, like a clown at a rodeo that knows he's got to keep the bull distracted. "Ah si si," he agrees, keeping his back straight under the heavy weight of Doom's ire. "Was not my decision, senor Doom, of course— the Senate recently had an election and there is a question of exporting industrial goods versus development in Brasil, we are, as you know, an up-and-coming country and many of our leaders would prefer," he keeps his eyes on Doom's, not watching Sue slip off, "to make sure that our rare ores and industrial exports do not end up building industry abroad, SO, of course, the tariff is not /my/ decision, but— da Costa industries must consider our bottom line and we certainly must stay beholden to our elected officials, and we would think it in violation of good spirit to pass those costs on to you— unless, of course, Latveria is willing to cover our increased shipping costs…"
*
T'Challa does not miss Roberto's glance, nor its subject matter. She graciously inclines her head towards da Costa at his request. "Please. My pardon is offered freely, for what it may serve you." That said, she takes a half-step back - just like she did with Jennifer, and surely someone will notice that habit - and lets him go, turning her attention now to Tony Stark and the blonde woman still following in his wake.
"Greetings, Ms. Rand." T'Challa offers. No platitudes about how pleased she is to meet the other woman, but T'Challa doesn't seem to offer that sort of blandishment to anyone. And clearly, when she wants to dis someone, she doesn't do it by halves. Like now. "Mr. Stark, I am not here for the alcohol. And while I would truly relish the opportunity to mutually explore a love of physics, technology, and the future, I do not think it would be any better attempting that at a bar. And I have duties here."
*
"Brother, I will give her your home address," Johnny whispers to Roberto, his expression one of absolutely genuine gratitude. As Roberto goes right, he goes left, finding it absolutely necessary to sneak-sneak-sneak his way through the crowd. He lightly touches Heather's elbow on his way past, hissing a "C'mon," to coax her along as backup.
A few more paces and then Johnny pops up through the crowd, mongoose-like, where Sue can see him. He gives her an expectant look and beckons at her with both hands, casting anxious glances at Victor's back while Roberto tries to keep his attention.
*
Danny quirks a brow back at Tony, smirking. "Smooth," she laughs, only to wince sympathetically at T'Challa's response. "Well, good luck with that," she smiles to the other woman. "You should try Sue Storm. I hear she's the real brains behind that outfit, keeps the gears turning. I'm…gonna go get another drink." Smart people. Always serious.
*
Roberto abruptly twitches hard and sneezes. /Loudly/. "Oye! Excuse me," he says.
*
"Fair enough, fair enough." Tony offers, draining the flute of champagne rather easily. "I'm always happy to discuss physics, technology, and especially the future. My hotel suite is a lot less noisy, that's for certain," he glances around as if noting the rising tension of the room. Danny gets a nod as she goes back to the bar. Not a bad idea either.
*
Heather goes slipping through the crowd and slides up next to Sue. "Let's get you out of here," she suggests. "I can find someone for us to be busy talking to." And maybe Victor there will take a hint.
*
There's no apology, no word of excuse, and no thoughts as Sue takes two steps towards Johnny and disappears from all view. An invisible hand grasps Heather's and tugs her back towards Johnny. Seconds later, she reappears in front of her brother and grasps his arm. Her eyes remain wide. "I need a drink," she declares. "Harder than this," she passes Heather her wine glass.
Doom's jawline visible tightens, the blood vessels in his neck visibly move with his increasing heart rate, and his hands ball up tighter with each word Roberto utters. Victor reaches out to clap Roberto on the back, but is stopped as one of his entourage mumbles something nearly indiscernible. An unconvincing, not-that-polite, too-tight smile draws his features upwards. "My adviser tells me we can negotiate this at another time, Senor de Costa. And," he motions to where Sue had just been standing only to see nothing. "Did you see where Miss Storm disappeared to?"
*
Johnny immediately puts one arm around Sue's shoulders and starts ushering her and Heather away from the booth, keeping his head down. "He's going to be a nightmare when he finds out," he whispers to her, wincing at the mere thought. Maybe he'll have a drink, too. Or seven. He looks at Heather over his sister's head, raising his eyebrows. "You walk her back to the hotel, I'll find Reed and meet you there? After I promise Berto my firstborn."
*
The air around Roberto suddenly gets very cold as Victor reaches for him, plunging at least twenty degrees. It might be a draft, or a cold breeze from the bar. Maybe a cold front rolling off of the haughty Queen of Wakanda?
Roberto smiles apologetically at Doom.
"Who?" he asks, blandly. He bows politely and with a clever two-step while Doom's looking for Sue, falls into the wake of a passing waiter, and vanishes into the crowd.
*
"I have not met ms. Storm. I thank you for your advice, Ms. Rand." T'Challa responds. She'll make a point of seeking out Sue Storm at her first opportunity. But said opportunities might turn out to be in short supply, depending on how the poor woman chooses to respond now that she is free of Doom's attentions, even briefly. Even the Wakandan Queen is not immune to the creep vibe Doom can put out when he really tries. "As I said, Mister Stark, I have duties here. But perhaps we will get an opportunity for that talk in the future."
Before T'Challa can come up with more of a response, her security detail closes in around her, one of the women leaning in close to whisper in the Queen's ear. She inclines her head sharply, just a hint, and turns to Stark again. "Pardon me. It seems my duties will require me to leave, now." It seems her security detail has decided it would be best if she were away from a Ranging von Doom, whether she likes it or not. The duties of a monarch are legion indeed, and staying alive is one of them.
*
Johnny's plan to return to the hotel has Sue nodding profusely. "Yes. Hotel. Liquor. Now." Her eyebrows lift expectantly at Heather and she clings to Heather. "I don't want to be anywhere near this place when he realizes I'm gone." Sue tugs on Heather's hand, "Let's go to a bar. The hotel bar. I need to get blitzed. Like now." Badly. She leads the way to the exit.
The chill that seems to radiate down Victor's spine has his hand snapping back to his side within moments. Roberto's question has him increasingly baffled. "The woman I was — " but then Berto exits stage right. Victor's eyes flit about the room in an effort to seek out Sue. But when they come up empty, his temper flares. And clearly only one person can be blamed for this. "Richaaaaards," he bellows just a little too loudly.
*
Danny glances over from the bar when Doom starts bellowing, quirking a brow. "You know," she muses to the bartender, "I'm starting to rethink my decision-making processes here." Like the one where she's still standing here at the bar while someone picks a fight with Mister Fantastic. She'll probably question that one later.
*
Next time, Heather is going to plan for some sort of natural disaster she can set off. Anything to divert the real natural disaster that's Victor on the rampage. "Going." She leads Sue toward the nearest exit. Always know where your exits are. "This is going to make two nights in a row getting drunk. I'm not going to survive being single, Sue."
*
Oh. There it is. Reed had been beginning to wonder what the holdup was. Must mean Johnny and Sue exited stage left, though. Perhaps… now is a good time for Reed to do similar, stage right. This results in him breezing by Danny at the bar, giving her a politely-mimed hat doff. Since he's not wearing one. "Ms. Rand. Nice to see you. I was just completing my night, expeditiously, or I'd stop to chat."
*
Victor grasps the Fantastic Four's poster on the wall and rips it down in one even movement. The paper shreds in his grasp, and he shifts his weight to peer about the room in an effort to spy Reed. "Where is he?" he mutters back to his cohorts who mumble something about the bar. He skulks back towards the centre of the room to pursue Reed.
*
"I'd make a break for it, for sure," Danny grins to Reed, looking over her shoulder for the rampaging Doom as she takes her second drink from the bar. "Not sure what he's got going on, but he is mad."
*
"Oh, you know. College stuff," Reed quips, though the lightness of tone isn't really there. "But as I'm not interested in a scientist-fight at the Conference…" He throws her an informal little salute and increases his saunter towards the doors, upgrading to something of a scurry.
Oh, yes, this is going to be a fun time, all right. Just wait til Victor hears about the presentation.
As Reed leaves, Doom makes it to the bar just in time to see his exit. He walks behind Danny in an effort to catch up to Richards…
*
Reed makes a break for it, and Danny glances over her shoulder again. Once she has a feel for just where Doom is, she looks away, letting her sense for the flow of chi, of energy, take over for sight for just a moment. Just long enough that when he passes by, she's turning from the bar with her drink, right into his path. "Oh, crap!" she exclaims, completely losing the cocktail…all over Doom. "Wow, sorry, I have got the worst timing tonight…"