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Weeknights aren't the busiest nights at the Hellfire Club. Then again, the Hellfire Club never looks anything as pedestrian as busy unless the proprietors intend it to be. After all, the club trades on a sense of exclusivity. There's a careful balance between anyone who's anyone can be found here, and they'll just let anyone join, after all.
Tonight, it's jazz night. The front foyer is dimly lit, candles flickering on tables and the lights low behind the bar, as three-piece band plays quietly in the background, a woman crooning into the microphone set to a low volume. A few groups sit at the scattered tables, catered to by women in dresses that hearken back to flapper girls…only baring much more leg than just some rouged knees.
Emma Frost lounges against one corner of the bar in a slinky dress of flawless white silk that flows over her like water, a white fur stole over bare shoulders and glimmering diamond cuff bracelets on each wrist. Platinum blonde hair falls in waves over her shoulders, and a flute of champagne dangles from her fingers as she idly watches those gathered with a lazy smile.
*
Jean-Paul Beaubier has been in the news a fair bit lately, and not all of it has been entirely by choice. Oh, he's handled it all with his typical aplomb, but as the days roll on and the end of the year rolls closer, he has found himself mildly… troubled. He is supposed to be preparing for the winter games in Austria next month, he is supposed to be representing his country and bringing home the gold. Again.
Instead, he is in New York in disgrace and at loose ends. So, naturally, he has been on the lookout for distractions.
Which brings the immaculately dressed man to the Hellfire Club this evening, with Pepper Potts on his arm. Jean-Paul is fairly confident that they will be allowed inside if he simply acts as if they belong there. "This will be a much more pleasant way to spend your evening than buying me coffee in some drab cafe," he assures her, flashing a playful smile. "I promise."
*
While Pepper wasn't actually *expecting* to go anywhere fancy tonight, so she's not dressed to the nines in any sort of evening gown. However, it's still Pepper. Her suit is designer, of course, a Chanel piece (though from last season), her shoes are totally in style, and the BUMP that her hair has been teased into then smoothed over is as high as any proper mod girl should be. She looks like the very height of business world meets mod fashion and, somehow, it works. The cool, designer style is only slight betrayed by the girl-next-door innocence of her blue eyes and the slight nerves that come across as she steps into the room after Jean-Paul. She studies everything with slightly too wide a gaze.
"Oh…I've heard of this place. Don't you have to be a mem-…" And before they get caught, some of her realizing he's getting on gusto alone, she shuts her mouth about that. "I…was considering trying to get Tony in, but then he got bored with it and moved onto something else. As is custom with Tony…" Pepper states with a little red lipped smirk. Somehow, she got caught up with Jean-Paul and now she is here. She might as well enjoy.
"Fine, but I'm still buying the first round, Jean-Paul." Pepper insists with a little, stubborn, determined woman huff. A tone that says she is used to being listened to when she gets in that mood! He's given a side ways smile and she pulls out a twenty from her little wallet, sliding up to the bar with him. But feet from that femme fatale in the white dress.
*
You do, in fact, have to be a member. Which is why a man in a dark suit steps up next to the pair at the bar, starting to reach a hand toward Jean-Paul. Emma, however, has her own means of keeping track of who's in the club, and has been aware of the pair since they walked in the door. Aware enough for a light, surface scan of their minds. Aware enough to decide they're interesting.
Before security can make contact, Emma raises a finger from her glass, waving him off with a small smile as she saunters over to join them. "Nonsense," she smiles warmly at the pair. "If you're going to come and investigate the place, then the first drink is on me." She raises her glass to the bartender, who nods.
*
If Jean-Paul even noticed the security before they were waved off, he doesn't show it one bit. He's about to open his mouth to respond to Pepper when Emma beats him to it, and he just aims a bright smile in the blonde's direction instead. See, Pepper? He told her this would be more fun than a dreary old cafe.
"Oh, merci. I know better than to turn down a free drink when it is offered," Jean-Paul says with a polite bob of his head. As for an order: "Whatever she is having."
He hitches up on a barstool and just smiles brightly at Pepper. Is he smug and entirely too pleased with himself? Probably. "I do hate for Tony to miss out." No he doesn't.
*
Highly observant, Pepper doesn't mentally realize she's being checked out, but she definitely knows the look of a bouncer when she sees one. Her eyes go a little bit wide, reaching a small hand to CLUTCH at JP's arm as that bouncer gets closer, "Jean-Paul! We should…" Oh. The bouncer is going away. They are, apparently, just fine. Pepper blinks in a bit of confused surprise before her eyes finally land on that stunning woman down the bar. She can't help but study Emma (who could stop themselves?) and then she gives a somewhat shy smile, "Well…that…That's very kind of you. I'll get the next round, Miss…" Pepper offers, that slight girl-next-door sweetness all to clear in her words.
Then she's looking back to Jean-Paul, still blushing just a bit. She slightly smirks to him at his order, but doesn't follow the crowd, "A gin martini, please. Neat. Dry. One olive." A lady who knows her drink order, at leat. Then JP is given another sideways look, "…You don't even know Tony and you are far too much enjoying being flanked by two very beautiful women." Pepper teases him gently. "I somehow doubt you like to share, all things considered!" Ah, she has a bit of fire to her after all.
*
"Emma Frost," the blonde introduces herself, reaching in front of Jean-Paul to offer a hand to Pepper for one of those sideways, ladylike grasps. In that dress, with the jazz in the background, it ought to look like she's making a pass at Pepper's escort…and yet it doesn't. He's just furniture, really. Lovely furniture, but furniture all the same for that moment.
Only after does she turn a back to Jean-Paul with a brief look of artistic appreciation. "Darling, don't you know, it's only polite to share," she laughs low, winking back at Pepper. "And really, there's no need to get any round for me. You could say I'm…in the management."
*
And Jean-Paul is absolutely unbothered by the way Emma prioritizes Pepper over himself. If anything, he seems genuinely pleased about it, as though it somehow solidifies his opinion that coming here had been a Good Plan after all. "I know Tony by reputation," he asides to the redhead, and his tone is not unkind. As for how much he enjoys being flanked by beautiful women… he says nothing aloud, but his eyes are most definitely twinkling in amusement.
When his turn comes, Jean-Paul offers a hand to Emma. Not for a shake, but to offer a kiss to the back of her hand that is somehow both charming and entirely platonic. "Jean-Paul Beaubier. Enchante, Mademoiselle Frost. If you are a part of the management, you have my compliments," he says brightly. "This is the least boring establishment I have stopped by in weeks."
*
The offer of the hand is taken elegantly — Pepper has been in high class business and around achingly proper women long enough to just easily fall into step with what she's supposed to be doing. She gives one of those gently, lady like squeezes and a tip of her head. "Emma? Miss Frost. It's a true pleasure. Virginia Potts, but, please… Just call me Pepper." Pepper doesn't even know why she bothers with her first name any more. But, in the wake of the stunning woman, something in her just snapped into slightly more proper habits.
Of course, in compare to Jean-Paul, Pepper's a scuffed up running shoe to his glass slipper of elegance. But one can only do so much with a mid town girl who actually has to work for a living, even at a high level job that affords her a Chanel suit. She allows her red lipped smile to echo JP's praise of the place. "…He's right. It's…gorgeous. My boss, Tony… he was considering coming by and he has no clue what he's missed."
*
"Well," Emma laughs to Jean-Paul, "'Not boring' is absolutely our specialty here. You'll have to stop by on another night once you've properly become a member for anything more interesting than this, though. Even if you did bring your own entertainment." By which she means Pepper, of course.
She lifts her glass for a sip of champagne, brows rising as she lowers it and hears Pepper's introduction. "The infamous Pepper Potts, no less. Darling, you have the most impeccable reputation in business circles. Keeping Tony Stark and that business of his rolling through…well, everything. You must tell me where I can find more of you, I could use at least five myself."
*
"Entertainment? I would never think so little of her," Jean-Paul replies immediately, and it certainly sounds genuine when he says it. The smile he aims at Pepper is a warm one and he reaches over to pat her on the arm. "I should think it is more accurate to say that I am enjoying an evening out with a new friend. Yes?" He is actually asking, and not assuming. Imagine that.
For a man so accustomed to the spotlight, Jean-Paul is very willing to yield it to Pepper tonight. Having his drink delivered certainly helps. He can hardly busy himself drinking it if he has to spend so much time talking.
*
And Pepper is *not* used to the spotlight at all. That's why she's such a good personal assistant. She can sit back, do all the things, take none of the credit, and be perfectly fine with that. Even if, apparently, word was getting around that she's doing far more than a secretary's fair share. And there had been press conferences. And the open work with Wilson Fisk. Still, Pepper isn't accustomed to it at all. Her blush climbs up her cheeks even higher and she happily scoops up her martini to hide behind, taking a sip while she tries to find some words.
"Ahh… yes, Miss Frost. I guess that is… Me. I don't know that I'd call myself… Infamous. I just do what needs done. Tony has a good business… he was fine before I came along." Lies. The stock has climbed almost fifty points in the half year since she's been there. But modesty is a thing. "And I promise you, Jean-Paul is *far* more interesting than I am." She flashes her pseudo-date for the night a smile. "And it is a nice night…"
*
"Mmm, darling, no," Emma shakes her head to Pepper, setting a hand to the bar top. "Believe me, the world will always be quick enough to tell you that you don't do any of it, that your success belongs to someone else. Don't let them. Take what you've earned." Impeccably manicured nails tap sharply on the marble before she draws her hand back, smile easing back across her features.
"I have a feeling Monsieur Beaubier is even less interested in talking about the interesting parts of himself than you are, Miss Potts," she says ruefully. "Though I think the same advice can apply to him. What you've earned is yours. No one gets to take that away from you just because you're better than they are."
*
Jean-Paul had been listening to the byplay between the two women with polite interest before, but now, something Emma said… now she actually has his attention.
He blinks once at her before he develops a rather odd smile and raises his glass in something of a salute. "I could not have said it better myself. Pepper, you are far too modest," Jean-Paul says, affectionately chastising. "Take some credit. You have more than earned it."
Miss Frost is mistaken about one thing, though. He has no problem talking about the interesting parts of himself. He's just also content to let Pepper have her turn in the sun.
*
Still blushing red enough parts of her cheeks almost match her hair, Pepper stares at them both with slightly wide eyed, uncertain shock about the turn of the night. She did not expect this conversation, "…Well, you both… You're quite nice. And I'm… good with business, yes. I got lucky to find somewhere I can use those skills, is all. It worked out." Still modest, but she's trying!
And then she's saved by the watch. It looks like a thin, red and gold designer thin on her wrist, though no recognized actual designer. It has a watch face, but it also seems to be vibrating. Quite insistently now. She blinks down to it, pushing on the top button twice. It stops a few seconds, then starts vibrating again. She sighs, "…and…Speaking of… this is Tony. I… I need to find a phone. Probably get back there. Jean-Paul, I *still* owe you a drink…and Miss Frost… maybe we can speak properly, sometime? Here…" Even as the watch sounds ready to vibrate off her wrist, she reaches into her purse and pulls out her card. She slides it over to Emma and then leans in for a quick kiss against Jean-Paul's cheek. "I promise. Drinks. Later this week." And with that, she's double timing back out the door. Work calls, even this late at night!
*
Emma taps a finger onto the card, sliding it toward herself as she watches Pepper rush out with a glimmer of amusement in her features. "That is precisely the problem with the world, you know," she muses to Jean-Paul once Pepper is out of earshot, taking another sip from her glass. "Exceptional people running around at the bidding of people who are…"
She flickers her fingers. "Perhaps not entirely unexceptional, but certainly no more deserving of what they have than the people in their employ. And yet she's convinced that it's all she could dream of. And how do you free someone who loves their chains?"
*
Jean-Paul does not look surprised when Pepper begs her leave — just disappointed. This does not stop him from obligingly turning his cheek to accept the peck, however. He is attempting to be gracious in defeat.
Probably why he waits for Pepper to be well and truly out of earshot before he replies to Emma.
"If you ever figure that out, please let me know," Jean-Paul sighs, reaching up to delicately pinch the bridge of his nose. "It is maddening — I know far too many women who deserve better than they seem prepared to allow themselves to have." He pauses for a moment, nearly so brief as to be missed, before he adds, "A few men, too. To be fair."
*
"The state of the world, I'm afraid." Emma wrinkles her nose ever so slightly. With Pepper gone, she turns her back to the bar again, all the better to keep an eye on the people moving from table to table, coming and going both back to the city and deeper into the halls of the club.
"I decided a long time ago - longer than a lady should admit to - that I wasn't going to let anyone else own my success. And so I haven't." She turns a sidelong glance his way, smile curving as a voice brushes against his mind. « Then again, I am more talented than most. »
*
The surprise that crosses Jean-Paul's face is genuine, but it is also shown only briefly. His mind works fast, and part of that means he is able to process things with more rapidity than most.
Judging by the downright feline smile that comes to his face, however, this is almost assuredly not the first time he has been spoken to in this way.
"I hope it would not be too presumptuous to say that you are in good company," Jean-Paul says with a laugh. He leans a little closer and lowers his voice, sounding apologetic. "Forgive me for replying this way. It is difficult to slow this down," he sighs, gesturing at the side of his head. "And I would not want to give you a headache."
*
Emma laughs low, lifting her glass to finish the champagne before setting it aside. "How very chivalrous of you," she drawls, amusement rich in her voice. "I have to say, I followed your story with a great deal of interest. A pity the world was too afraid of your excellence to celebrate it as it should have. I do hope you haven't found yourself in hard times because of it?" she asks, looking over with an arch of her brow.
*
"Only in that I find myself with an overabundance of free time," Jean-Paul says with a smile and a dismissive wave of his free hand. "Do not get me wrong. It has given me the opportunity to catch up with some old friends and get into a bit of trouble here and there, which is good. But I am beginning to worry that I actually liked the structure my life had before." He actually grimaces as he confesses this. The horror of it all.
*
"Ah, yes," Emma agrees, smile crooked. "That, I know well. It isn't as though I'm short of funds," she gestures toward herself. After all, everything about her says money. "And yet I find myself seeing to affairs here, running a company. And a school, no less. Obviously I don't do it all alone, but I suspect I would go quite mad if I didn't have something to be useful at. Not," she adds, raising a finger, "That you aren't useful. But for a mind that moves as quickly as yours, even a moment of idleness must stretch for years."
*
Although Jean-Paul doesn't say it out loud, the look that he gives Emma at that last comment says it all. She is absolutely correct, and it is so terribly nice to have someone simply understand that without having to be told. "A club, a company, and a school? I am impressed. Even I would have trouble juggling all of that," he muses, arching his eyebrows at her. Some of the difficulty would be in all of them keeping his interest, to be fair, but that does not make the feat less impressive to him.
*
"You might be surprised what you're capable of when you push yourself, darling." The bartender slides another flute of champagne across to Emma, earning himself a sparkling smile before she looks back to Jean-Paul. "Limits don't just come from the world around us. All too often we set them on ourselves with our expectations. Or lack thereof. Take Henry, for example," she nods toward a young man bussing tables. "He's actually quite gifted with watercolors. But he tells himself it's no job for a man, nothing one should study. So here he is, bussing tables for people who would just as likely spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on his art if he chose to try."
*
When Henry is pointed out, Jean-Paul does indeed sit up straighter in order to cast a curious look in his direction as Emma explains. He clucks his tongue and frowns, lightly drumming his fingertips against his own glass. "That is a shame. I quite like artists," he admits, returning his attention to her in short order. "But if they do not have that confidence to back up their passion… mmmh. They can be rather self-defeating, can't they?" he says sadly.
*
"Precisely," Emma agrees. "Though the same can be said of anyone, really. It's just that art makes such a poignant example. Why New York City?" she asks, turning to face him once more, fingers curved over the foot of her glass. "Not that it isn't an enjoyable city, of course, but why not Paris? Bern?"
*
"Initially, I had planned on just breezing through," Jean-Paul muses thoughtfully. "Darken an old friend's door for a day or two, then go and find something to do somewhere else. I hadn't expected her to actually be so pleased to see me," he admits with a laugh, lightly touching his forehead. "If she is asking me to stick around for a while, things must be dire."
*
Emma arches a brow, a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. "Now that sounds like an interesting friendship," she observes, though she stays out of his mind for the moment. After all, there's something be said for coaxing things out of someone the old-fashioned way. "Are things that dire? Or is your friend simply as utterly bored as you are?"
*
"Ha! I do not think Heather knows how to be bored." The longer Jean-Paul considers the possibility, the funnier it is. No, she is definitely not bored. "She desperately needs to relax, but… she is in a situation not unlike our dear Pepper is. Buried in work for someone important that she simply cannot delegate." He rolls his eyes towards the ceiling. "The more things change…"
*
"Ever and ever the same," Emma agrees ruefully, raising her glass in salute before she sips. "It's part of why I started the school. All I could see, again and again, were talented, capable, powerful people in their own right being relegated to secondary positions, to support staff, all to help someone else shine. Denied the same opportunities, even if they were willing to work ten times as hard. So I decided to…level the playing field. Just a bit."
*
Jean-Paul raises his glass in a matching salute as she does, and has a sip of his own. "I have seen much the same. It is why I went into activism, but change has just been so…" Slow. His nose wrinkles in distaste, and then his expression actually grows troubled. It's an odd expression on him, rare enough that it seems out of place. "But I do not know if I will be able to be even that effective an activist, now. It would simply be seen as self-serving."
*
"And? Didn't we just say that there's nothing wrong with seeking success and a better life for oneself?" Emma points out, lifting one shoulder with an elegant roll. "There's nothing shameful about helping yourself while you're helping others. That's just another tool the people in power use to convince us all that there's nothing we can do about it. And they're wrong. The world is moving toward better things. Humanity is flailing for relevance…and tearing itself to pieces in the process."
*
"I see nothing wrong with it, but I am not one of the minds that needs changing," Jean-Paul notes wryly. "It will not stop me from trying, of course. And to be entirely fair, humanity has gotten some assistance in tearing itself apart, lately. Not that we need it, particularly." But he is a believer in giving credit where credit is due.
*
"Ah, yes, the…aliens." Emma taps a finger thoughtfully on the stem of her glass, glancing toward the stained glass. "That's certainly a sign of interesting times, isn't it? Asgard. Aliens. Assassinations. Why, it's almost enough to keep one from getting bored, even without several careers."
She winks, stepping away from the bar with glass in hand. "Speaking of which, I'm afraid I really must get back to mingling before anyone starts thinking I've been playing favorites. No matter how pretty you are," she laughs low. "You should speak with Lawrence at the entrance, though," she gestures to the security guard who came over at first. "He can tell you about memberships."