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Most people would be amazed at how much high-level business takes place at bars. And it is for exactly that reason that Warren finds himself at one this weekday evening. The business associates he was meeting with have just departed, and he finds himself suddenly alone in a corner booth, nursing his last drink. He picks up the glass, swirling the contents and watching them dance before he takes another sip.
*
It's late. It's not really a healthy time to be drinking, at least not alone, but then, when is? The woman still needed to drink, and somewhere that didn't tempt her to bash heads or yell at immature young idiots. So, it means, she's coming to the most expensive bar she knows which is still open. Tallish, thin, achingly elegant, Elektra Natchios steps into the room and still turns a few heads. If anything, she's gotten more lovely for her maturity. She shrugs out of the subtle black fur coat she is wearing, handing it towards the coat check and crossing towards the bar.
*
Like most of the rest of the people in the bar, Warren takes note of Elektra as she enters. Unlike most of the rest, there's recognition on his face." He smiles, runs is fingers through his hair for a moment and downs his drink, then stands. HE takes a moment to straighten the long jacket that has been a trademark garment for him since his mid teens, particularly at any of the society functions where She may have seen him. He crosses the room and says pleasantly from her side, "Elektra Natchios. It's been a while."
*
While the last time she saw Warren, he was an upstart teenager, sixteen, probably so much trouble. At least, in her 21 year old brain, he hasn't changed *that* much that she doesn't recognize the young man. He's just matured more himself, more handsome and defined. Some actual heaviness behind his eyes. He looks like a man, not a kid, and that's enough to make her slightly double take. "…My goodness. Warren Worthington. You… you grew up." She admits with a slight laugh to her ever faintly accented voice. It's a tired laugh, something heavy behind it as well, but earnest. She settles in at the bar, though at a stool that gives plenty of room for him to join her. "Yes…I had business abroad."
*
Warren moves onto the stool next to hers taking a moment to settle himself. His posture is studiously upright, not the slouch one might expect oat a bar stool. "Nice to know it's noticed. And you looka as amazing as ever. Still turning heads when you enter a room, I see."" There is a sort of quasi-flirt to his voice and expression. More an acknowledgement of her appeal than a serious romantic inclination. He asks warmly, "How have you been."
*
A slight arch comes to one of her thin, carefully sculpted brows, as she notices just how stiffly he's sitting and the long coat. "…Cold? It doesn't seem all that unpleasant here. Relax." Elektra coaches him slightly, not that she is one to speak about relaxing. But, sometimes, it's nice to see others. She nods to the bartender. "Martini, dry… grey goose, thank you. And whatever he is having." SHe pulls out two twenties, putting them down on the bar in an insistence that she is paying, before the younger man can even reach for his wallet. The question of how she's been draws her eyes slightly away, answering in an offhanded manner, "Fine, just fine. Yourself?" Probably a lie.
*
Warren shrugs offhandedly, "Just my thing. ALways seem to be chilly." Also a lie, but one he's told a thousand times. He does ease his posture just a bit, leaning against the bar, but that small movement is a careful one, contrived rather than easy. The kind of movement an expereinced eye might expect from someone favoring an injury or whose movement was otherwise restricted. He answes truthfully, "Overall, not so bad. The last few months have been rough. Losing my father, taking over the company."
*
While Elektra isn't exactly a spy, she does have an experienced eye. Her dark gaze narrows a bit, watching his body move stiffly. Now she slightly turns more to him, so she can openly watch him as they sit and drink. She motions for him to order one, but crosses her long legs then and keeps all of her dark eyed attention on his body. Especially that possible injury. Of course, he's not the only one moving a little stiff. Her dress has long sleeves, hiding the bandage around her arm, and she's favouring her right side, but that's motions she's hidden as well a thousand times. "…I…read in the paper. I am so sorry, Warren. I… understand, for what it's worth. I never wanted to, but I do…"
*
Warren orders himself a scotch and soda. A simple drink he can savor. He looks back at Elektra nd nods. "I know exactly what you meen." THe stiffness to his upper body is something that, thinking back, she may recall in his younger self, but which can no longer be chalked up to the awkwardness of teenage growth spurts. It is not so dramatic that the average person would note it. But to a trained martial artist, used to watching how people move? It stands out. Warren shakes his head, "That kind of loss, it isn't easy on anyone. But I think it's one of the few places where the wealthy really are at a disadvantage. You can't take time to mourne when there's a business empire that needs running, and a public face to maintain." There is a certain bitterness to that. Particularly the last statement.
*
A slightly pained, sympathetic look crosses her dark eyes. Her own grief is a long distant ember compared to his. Fingertips just reach out and, if he doesn't fight her, she wrapps one small hand across the back of his palm. Her fingertips are strange, the palm of her hand calloused in some very unique areas, but maybe she has some odd hobbies? She gives his hand a quiet, warmer squeeze, trying to lend some sort of solidarity when she has no words. "…You needn't put a face on for me, Warren. I have raged… I have seen it all before."
*
Warren notes the surprising roughness of the hands, but tries to cover his surprise. Moreover… he's dealt with a few people with similar calluses before, though with her contact being only with the back of the hand, he might not note the subtleties. SHe might play a stringed instrument, after all. :he smiles at her, a little sadly, "I appreciate that, I really do. But I was thinking more of the society pages than speaking with a friend."
*
"…Fuck the society pages. You do not need them. Look at that Tony Stark man, he does not care and they love him all the more for it. You are too good, Warren… too… Too damn good. You always have been. Let loose for once. Fitzgerald, get him another shot." Elektra calls to the bartender behind the bar, nodding to that top shelf scotch that Warren is drinking. "No soda. This will be a night for relaxing. We both need it." She gives him a slight smile, a wicked flash behind her eyes.
*
Warren gives her an easy smile, "You know how it is, Eletktra. People like us… we can't just go airing the family's dirty laundry, so to speak. EEvery old family has its infighting, its dirty secrets… and there's always too much riding on us to really be open about any of it." He puts on a very posh accent, mimicing any number of people they might both know, "Appeareances must be kept!" He shakes his head, "I admit, I'm often sick of it. And there were some important things on which my father and I did not see eye to eye."
*
"And one for myself." And then Elektra is being delivered a shot as well. She picks up her gin, nodding for him to take the scotch, and then she lofts her glass with a grin, "Well…you do not have to do that with me. I shall keep your secrets, Warren Worthington. Come now. We have both been through it. Relax." SHe coaches him with the glass, gently clinking the shot glass against his and then knocking back her entire shot with shining, devious eyes.
*
Glasses *clink* as they collide and Warren raises the shot for a moment, "To ol friends who know discretion." And then he downs his own shot. THere is a grimace, not quite pain, not quite pleasure, at the fierce burn of the shot. Not his first drink, or his second, it hits him noticably.
*
A somewhat proud smile crosses Elektra's features as he actually does the shot with her. "Excellent. You are a dear friend… How much trouble should we get in tonight? I am bored, Warren…so bored, since coming back here. Maybe coming across you was meant to be. If you believe in… fate… or all that rot." Elektra states with a half laugh, going back to her martini. She clearly needs to catch up to him.
*
There is a sad look on Warren's face for a moment. Her offer is tempting. And if her were nearly any other male member of their shared social set, he would jump at the chance. But he hesitates. He does smile, "It would be easy to get into a lot of entiertaining trouble around you, I'm sure. " THe bartender casually refills warren's glass. Which is not going to help his determination to keep things under control.
*
"I promise, I do not… drink and tell." Elektra tosses him a wink, flirtatious, warm, her full lipped smile never wavering, even if she can read some doubt behind his eyes. She takes another long, deep gulp of her martini, quickly walking towards the edge of poor judgment and relaxation herself. But this was a good night for it. "…Do not look so sad. Come now. What is the worst that could happen?"
*
Warren looks at Elektra and smiles. He sips his drink, almost not registering the refill. "OH, I don't know? I could thoroughly embarass myself in front of a stunningly beautiful woman? Utterly ruin your opinion of me for years to come? " A more playful line of thought springs to mind and makes it s way out past lips loosened by scotch, "Wake up naked somewhere and not remember how we got ther or where our clothes went?"
*
A low, throaty sound comes from her, lips still upturned in that tempting smile, though the sound is thoughtful, "Hmm…only the first two of those sound awful. And truly, Warren… I do not think you could ever embarrass yourself. I'll be gentle. Let this older woman corrupt you." Elektra winks to him, raising her glass in a silent toast and knocking back one more drink. She's drained her whole martini. She's a woman drinking the world away tonight. Perhaps forever.
*
Despite himself, Warren is more than tempted. And her response to his tease only helps the scotch in its effort to shut down his brain and let other body parts do the thinking. He leans forward to her and teases, "You say that now. You haven't seen me naked yet." And that is certainly true. Rumors travel among the small circles of the wealthy. PaZarticularly among peers of similar age. And one thinga bout the younger waren that mde rumor circulate was that alhtough he attended all the right parties, annd was more than willing to do certain things… the clothes never came off.
*
The darker skinned woman leans closer. Close enough he can catch a hint of her perfume — sandalwood and black vanilla. Mixed oils, very expensive, not alcoholic at all. Touchable, almost edible. Elektra now ignores her drink for the time being, though the bartender is already making another. He knows how much she drinks. Her whisper is meant only for Warren, close enough he can feel her breath on his lips. "…No, I have not. And I know you are hiding something beneath that coat. Perhaps an injury… you are stiff. But… there is also something physical. Swords, maybe? Sticks? Something long… Do you carry weapons with you all the time?" She asks, having made a good guess, even if it's the wrong one. But her eyes search his. Instead of accusing, she is… Intrigued by the possibility? Excited?
*
Warren leans in as she does, and his tongue flicks to moisten his lips. He's fighting the urge to kiss her, and not exactly winning the fight. Then she makes that soft comment and it hits him like a lightning bolt. He stifferns for a moment, then smiles slowly, "I'll show you… but it's a secret you'll have to keep."
*
Could Warren Worthington say ANYTHING more tempting than something like that? A secret. A confession to her. Something she must keep and a show of trust. Old Elektra's brain snaps to the fact that it means she'd have leverage over him. But she's trying not to be that person any more. And he was a friend. He might even need her. So, Elektra takes a breath, temptation still behind her dark eyes. "I promise. Our secrets, Warren… who else can spoiled rich kids trust than the other spoiled rich? Everyone else is trying to get something out of us."
*
Warren downs the last of his drink. He is decidedly drunk at this poit, and he knows it. He also doesn't particularly care. He starts to stand. "Alright… but not here." He gives her a smile, "Do you know somewhere private we could go?"
*
Still, a flash of eagerness in her eyes, danger in her smile. Elektra lofts both brows as he gives in, "…My hotel? It is private, and none of your people will be around to ask questions. I came back alone…. I have no people to have questions." Elektra reassures him, smoothly standing from the barstool. She might be tipsy but she's clearly not drunk enough to be stumbling.
*
Warren lean in to steal a quick kiss. Just a light brush of lips, really, as he stands. He is oddly graceful, even though he is obviously tipsy. He gets to his feet and offers a clight bow and a dramatic sweep of his arm, "Well then, lead the way, Ms. Natchios, and I will be more than happy to follow." And appreciate the view while he does so."
*
Well, that answers that question. For a moment, Elektra had worried he was one of those fancy boys and she was very much barking up the wrong tree. As he leans in to steal that kiss, she leans closer, letting him taste vodka and vermouth on her lips. A quiet promise. Then the darkhaired woman pulls back and she nods, still grinning. "My pleasure." She already paid more than enough for their drinks, but she tosses another twenty on the bar. For thanks. For silence. Then she's leading him out to the street to wave down a cab. Taxi cabs were so much less likely to talk than private hired limos. SHe's lovely and a woman, so she hails one easily for both of them, slipping into the back as she gives the address of a hotel in Hell's Kitchen, strangely enough. The only half way nice hotel there.
*
Warren seems momentarily puzzled by the address given, but says nothing about it. He actually says very little during the car ride. He seems to have even more trouble relaxing in the car than at the bar, never really leaning back in his seat. But his hand does wander a little during the ride, moving over to rest on Elektra's knee, then slide lightly up her leg unless she stops it.
*
Elektra doesn't. The dress is odd, slinky in it's own way, almost skin tight, with long sleeves but a short skirt to show off her silk stockings and shapely, incredibly toned legs. Incredibly so. Rock hard, actually. The sort of body of a lethal weapon. Maybe she just worked out a lot. The ride this time of night isn't bad and soon they are being let off in front of the semi dingy hotel. No one remarks on them here. It's easy to be anonymous. She flashes him one more, almost reassuring smile and then leads the way up the stairs to her penthouse room. That was nice, at least.
*
Warren tips the cabby well befor heading up to the penthouse with Elektra. He seems a bit more comfortable once they are alone, and finds the penthouse location particularly reassuring. He walks over to her and smile. Facing her, he speaks softly, leaning in toards her, "I suppose I should warn you. This may be quite a shock…"
*
The woman stares up at him skeptically, the strange weight behind her eyes saying that she probably has seen way more than he'd ever realize. Elektra seems almost amused. "…Warren, darling… if you only knew." She gives a husky laugh, kicking out of her high heels and moving over to sit like some elegant feline on the couch. "Come now. Tell me. What is this horrid secret, my dear?"
*
Warren watches her move with an unmistakable heat in his eeyes. As she settles he loks at her, and then turns his back to her. He looks over one shoulder and says, "close your eyes." then he starts to shrug out of his long jacket. WHen he has it in hand, he brings it around in front of him, and ther is a odd "thumb in the air, and a wave of wind as his wings unfurl and catch the air in the room.' white wings spread wide, he says with a nervous tone in his voice, "Open them."
*
The elegant woman gives a little laugh as he says to close her eyes, "Warren…this is not… some birthday surprise. Goodness. Fine." Elektra rolls her eyes to the ceiling a moment before settling back and closing them, her full mouth pursed in a smirking, skeptical line. She tucks her legs off to the side and waits. The thump gets an arch of her brows, but she doesn't quite open her gaze yet. "So dramatic…" She teases him, with closed eyes. Then, finally, he gives permission. Her gaze flickers open wide and then her smile is gone. Not angry or disgusted. Just… shocked. She stares at him quietly, "… Those are… very interesting… weapons. Is it a harness?"
*
Warren turns to face her. The wings fold agianst his back, though not so tightly as they were under the jacket. THen he lifts each wing once, demonstrating their movement individually. He shakes his head and says softly. "No. No harness. No weapon. Well.. not usually." The wings fold back again, "They're me."
*
"…You…" Elektra breathes out, just a touch confused. She has been in Europe a long time. While mutants are a thing there, it's not as media prominent. She's heard about it, of course, but meeting one is a different thing. Slowly, she gets up from the couch, stockinged feet carrying her over closer to him. "…May I?" She inquires, fingertips reaching out for the edges of the wings, but at least she's respectful enough not to just grab.
*
Warren steps in closer, and lets her hands explore. The white feathers are stiff and tough, like the flight feathers of any large bird. Underneath the bone and muscle are solid. ON closer examination, it's clear that Warren's shirt has been carefully tailored to fit arond the wings, with two long slits for them to fit through. He speaks softly again, "Not what you were expecting, I suppose?"
*
The woman is gentle, almost like a lover's caress, but also testing. Learning the texture of wings, the tauntness of muscle. This was true, not some ruse. Her eyes go a bit wider as her fingertips run down his back, across that probably stiff, sore musculature. "…No. Better… more… fascinating. More lovely… Just… Strange." Elektra admits. No hate in her voice, simple surprise.
*
Warren with the wings unfurled, Warren no longer moves stiffly. it was the necessity of keeping them tight to his back that kept him from moving well before. He looks at her over his shoulder and smiles. "I'll answer the next question everyone always asks. Yes. They work."
*
Warren leaves, heading towards RP Nexus [O].
*
Warren has left.
*
"…Well, clearly they *work*. I mean, you are using them… But do you mean they work like… A bird's wings? You can literally…Fly with them?" ELektra asks with just a slight chuckle, but she still cannot entirely hide the surprise from her husky voice. She remains standing near him, but she's not poking at his wings any longer, trying to be polite about it all. Nor has she moved to sit again, though, so they are standing almost dangerously, temptingly close.
*
Warren smiles, "I mean exactly that. He edges in towards her, trimming that distance even more. There is just a hint of an expensive cologne to his scent. I mean that one of the reasons I live ina penthouse isnsted of a townhouse is that It gives me easy access to the sky." He speaks softly, "THere are nights I will just soar over the city, in the quiet up there, looking down." Just a little ibt of movemen then brings his lips to hers and, if she doesn't resist, he will kiss her softly.
*
The man coming nearer to her does not scare Elektra away, but then, neither have his wings. Elektra did invite him back here and it seems his secret isn't going to discourage her. The dark haired woman leans up and into that press of his lips, letting the kiss deepen, but also allowing it to be a hint more tender than her pressing, insisting kisses of drink and lust. There is something in Elektra which is actually trying to show him that she accepts this, shock or not…
*
Arms go around her then, clsosing that last disatance as the kiss breaks. With the wings folded back out fo the way, he feels like any other particularly fit man might, and his reaction to her is quite obvious. e pulls back just for a moment to look at her and smiles as his hand runs down her back. He says in a light, teasing tone…"Just remember I can't really lay on my back."
*
"Oh…" Elektra pouts, as he says that and they pull slightly back, though there is a good glimmer of amusement in her dark eyes as well. She chuckles huskily. "I suppose we will just have to… ah… Figure out other positions then, yes? You are young… but surely you've been… Creative before." Then something hits Elektra, a small realization, and she studies his features for a few more heartbeats, almost looking concerned, "I…I wouldn't be your…First, right? You… You are better than someone like me. To start, at leat."
*
Warren laughs and shakes his head. "I'm not quite that young." He leans in and kisses her again. THis time it's not a soft, quick press of lips. This kiss goes well beyond flirting. This is kissing with intent. And the way he kisses definitely says he's done it before. WHen the kiss breaks he reaches up, intending to ease her dress off her shoulders.
*
A slight sigh of relief escapes Elektra's lips, a smile returning to her full mouth as she leans up, into the press of his mouth. Another, longer kiss. The woman happily accepts it this time. She also doesn't stop him as he eases the dress down off her shoulders. Of course, that suddenly exposes the reason she WAS wearing long sleeves. A heavy, tightly wrapped bandage across her right bicep, the wound beneath already slightly strained as there's a faint spotting of blood along it. As her dress falls away, revealing a black lace bra and her toned torso, there's also a bandaged wound across her lower ribs. And scars. Mostly knives, though at least two seem bullet wounds. Elektra pulls back just enough to study his eyes, figure out how he's going to react to those things.
*
Warren's initial reaction is surprise. a little bit of a raised eyebrow as he looks her over. He comments only, "Id say you have some secrets of your own." He reaches ot and touches her arm, fingers tracing a knife scar, "Unless being a diplomat's daughter is a much more violent life than I ever realized." He smiles at ehr then, "But who am I to judge?" He starts unbuttoning his shirt then, wings folding tight for purpses of getting ththrough the holes tailorefd for them. His upper body is in some ways the direct opposite of hers. Muscular and lean, without an ounce of fat visible, his skin is totally without blemish. Not a scar or even a freckle to be seen, the only difference in color being at his small, pink nipples.
*
"It is…complicated. And probably safer if you do not know." Elektra states simply, her expression a touch colder, more withdrawn. There is something distant in her, almost chilling, something not entirely human for a few moments. But tonight wasn't about that. She swallows it back and turns a smile up in his direction one more time as she finally steps out of her dress and allows her fingertips to reach for his shirt. Gently, she begins to tug him back towards the bedroom, the end of this story all too apparent.
*