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It is, by any sane measure, far too early to be visiting a club. It still qualifies as 'brunch' for pity's sake, and New York is absolutely miserable, cold and raining like it's going out of style. All the more reason to be indoors.
Oliver Cheng would not be caught dead out in that weather, thank you very much. Not without good reason, anyway, and right now, he hasn't got one. So he's lounging in his usual booth with a program for the Metropolitan Museum of Art in his hands, lips pursed while he reads.
*
By more than one person's measure, 'sane' is a questionable choice at best for describing the club's incoming guest. Regardless of that, Jeanne-Marie— or if one prefers her professional name, Rora— has never cared what time other people think is appropriate for drinking and she hasn't any plans to start now.
One of the city's ubiquitous yellow cabs pulls to the curb, and there's a pause, and a brief internal flurry, before a disgruntled, resigned cabbie exits, and hustles around the car with an umbrella. Unusual, yes, but then she emerges in a lovely, immaculate fur coat and it makes a lot more sense. There's a pause, while a lifted eyebrow dares him to start the argument again, and when the man fails to take the bait, she sweeps to the door while he keeps the rain off.
"Keep the change," she murmurs acidly and tosses a bill haphazardly in his general direction. Manners are for good service after all. She just ignores the way the angry swearing starts up. And also the guy at the door attempting to politely inform her the Black Cat isn't open. She is an expert ignore-er. It's probably just enough ruckus to get Oliver's attention as she enters on clicking heels. Classic Jeanne-Marie, all told.
*
What's all this nonsense at the door? With a faint frown, Oliver's sliding out of his booth and to his feet to get a better look. And he immediately brightens.
"Aurora! She's fine, Jim, she's with Beni," Oliver says happily, dropping the program onto his table before he strides across the all-but-empty club with his arms spread wide. "Who is, I am afraid, out at the moment. So you will have to settle for my company instead. How are you?"
*
For all her waspishness so far, Aurora's reaction is nearly a mirror to Oliver's. She is genuinely pleased to see him. He understands. So she is quite happy to spread her arms in return, grasp his shoulders, kiss-kiss to each cheek, and wait for him to take her coat. "Dear Oliver. I'm simply dreadful. The jet wasn't available— I had to fly commercial. Commercial, darling." She brushes her hair back over a pointed ear on one side. "I think I should rather fly myself next time, luggage be damned."
*
A kiss to either cheek and then Oliver smoothly takes Jeanne-Marie's coat from her shoulders. He does not leave her side to hang it up — just extends his arm towards the coatrack and allows the coat to smoothly drift from his fingers and gracefully alight on a free hook.
"In this weather? Both options sound miserable," Oliver admits with a wince, one hand falling to the small of her back as he leads the way back to his booth. "Let's get you warmed up. Coffee? Tea?" he offers, raising his eyebrows. "Martini?"
*
Jeanne-Marie waits through the choices until alcohol presents itself, and bobs her head once, and smiles. "Of course," she agrees, and lets him guide her to a seat. "And how is business? Anything new? Have you found a delightful young thing to spend time with or is the Lady of the House still the only one worth the egregious levels of effort?" Which isn't to imply a physically intimate relationship, per se.
*
"Oh, come now. You already know the answer to that." Once she's seated, Oliver spins on his heel to head for the bar, vaulting over it and rummaging around. He knows how she likes her martinis and this is the only way to guarantee she gets one that is properly made. "Do you have any plans while you're in town?"
*
Like a true barfly, Aurora hitches up on a stool so they can talk while he's busy with the drink. "You know me. Plans are for boring people. I simply have general goals. The winter line is premiering, so I should be around to look nice for the cameras and wink at the usual easy marks, but otherwise I'm as open to suggestions as I ever am."
*
Oliver hums thoughtfully, nodding his head from side to side as he busies himself with fixing her drink. "Well. I do have an errand to run for Beni," he says thoughtfully. When he slides the martini onto the bar in front of her, it is just in time for the Met program to float over and slide into place beneath it, like a coaster.
He lightly taps one of the exhibits on the open page with two fingers, his eyes twinkling. A beautiful astrolabe over a thousand years old. "This used to belong to her," Oliver explains. "And she wants it back. Might be a fun night out, if you're free?"
*
Jeanne-Marie takes the martini, looking throughtful. "I don't know.. it's been some time since I've done any such underhanded things, and I've a public reputation to consider…" Then Oliver shows her the astrolabe and it catches her eye in a big way.
"On the other hand, to leave such a lovely piece in a dusty museum… and it is polite to bring a gift when visiting out of the blue. I really shouldn't let such affronts to fabulousness stand." Okay, she's in.
*
Oliver just waits it out. He's sure that once she thinks it over — ah! There it is. He leans on the bar and offers her a winning smile, positively beaming. "We can pick up a card and some gift wrap, if you like?" he suggests playfully. "'tis the season, after all."
*
Jeanne-Marie's mood is rapidly and visibly improving with a martini in hand and mayhem on the mind. "Mmmm, perhaps," she muses and sips her drink, making a noise of approval so Oliver knows he hasn't lost his touch. "Though I'm sure the museum has a gift shop with those little gift totes," she muses. "It seems approriate, in a delightfully tacky kind of way."
*
"I think she would approve of that," Oliver muses, lazily drumming his fingers against the bar. "Tonight, then? That way, you don't have to delay visiting with her too long," he says with a smile, straightening up. "We'd never be able to hide it from her, and I'd hate to ruin the surprise. She's so hard to surprise."
*
"Most people worth surprising are," Aurora agrees. "Tonight is fine, my schedule is free for several days. I've never cared to be rushed when I'm working, you know." Because work is bleh and it's all supposed to be quite fun. She picks at her dress. "I suppose I shall need to stop for more appropriate attire, though."
*
"If you insist." Oliver moves to the side so that he can vault the bar again, evidently having no desire for a drink himself. Possibly because, once he's back on her side of the counter, he offers her an arm. "The least I can do to make up for the inconvenience is take you shopping."
*
In the face of a pleasant man offering shopping, a cultured finish to the martini comes a distant second. Aurora knocks back the rest of the drink in one go, sets the glass down, and loops her arm through Oliver's. She's sure she has something she could wear in her luggage, but… "You do know how to treat an unrepentant diva, Oliver. You've got yourself a date."