1964-03-17 - The Flirting Dance of the Native Workaholic
Summary: And here we see the strange flirting dance, mating ritual of the native species to the area — the New York City Workacholic. The localized DA finds himself captured by the strange native CFO's show of plumage and cherry eating skills.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
harvey pepper 


Mid-evening on a Thursday night and the White Horse Tavern isn't actually all that busy. Most of the happy hour crowd is gone by now, many people still have work tomorrow, and this place is too upscale for many habitual drunks. So, Pepper is currently sitting alone at the bar, nursing a martini idly while a long, slender lady's cigarette burns in an ash tray above her palm. She's in a hip-hugging, dark jade dress with a high boat style neck, so it can pretend to be work wear despite skimming her curves quite so noticably well. The Wall Street Journal rests open in front of her, pale eyes scanning over an article.

*

A tired looking Harvey makes his way into the bar. He is greeted like a regular, even though he has been too busy to visit in sometime. The bartender even flashes him a smile and sets a sipping whiskey in front of him as he slides onto a stool not far from the beauty. He removes his hat and sighs, setting it on the bar beside his drink. He then withdraws a pack of Marlboros and takes a box of matches from a bowl on the bar. He lights one and takes a drag before lifting his drink to his lips for a sip. He has the look of a man who gets little sleep, handsome as he may be.

*

The sound of someone else coming into the bar, especially this time of the night, draws Pepper's pale eyes. She blinks, arching a brow in vague recognition of the man — wasn't he the district attorney? Maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her. Still, Pepper gives him a slightly blushing, lovely little smile, the sort made for magazine pages or dance halls, not to be hovering over the wall street journal. "…Evening." Her husky voice offers him warmly, but in the off handed way that should not obligate conversation. Just a gentle opening of the door.

*

He doesn't glance up when he is greeted, instead offering a small, distracted: "Evening…" He picks up his drinks for a longer sip and then sighs to himself, setting it back down. He finally glances over to the person who greeted him…and he sees Pepper. His eyes widen a hint and he clears his throat. "Oh, good evening, miss. Did I take someone's seat?," he asks curiously, glancing at the bartender, who shakes his head.

*

As he gives her an equally distracted greeting back, Pepper is content to leave the conversation there. Sometimes, people just wanted to drink in silence. Especially important people, such as him. She takes another languid sip of her martini, red nails glimmering in the low lamp lights, and ashes her cigarette as she remembers it's there before sticking it back between her red velvet lips. She turns the page of the journal, continuing the article. One, ironically, about her current company and all the controversy her being there is causing. Then he starts up again and she blinks, offering him a more glowing smile. "No, no…not at all. I was just being nice. I understand if you want to drink in quiet, though."

*

He chuckles and shakes his head. "If I wanted to drink alone I'd be sipping on the much better bottle I have stashed in my office," he says, partially to be truthful, and partially to tease the smirking bartender. "I wanted to get out for a few hours, at least." He offers a hand to the beauty. He doesn't seem to recognize her, but that could just be because his head is swimming with criminals. "Harvey."

*

It's easy not to know her. Pepper was never a public figure until a week ago, but then it's been a splash of business articles and that's it. If one is into criminals of the actually illegal sort, not white collar corporate sort, she's an unknown. The redhead keeps her smile, though, setting down her cigarette again so she can offer him a delicate, bare palm. Well, bare other than some ink stains on her fingertips. She's clearly a woman who does actually work for a living. "Pepper. And it's good to meet you, Mr. Dent… I…I've read a lot of the work you've done. It's…it's amazing."

*

He shakes her head gently, before leaning in to kiss a knuckle. He releases her hand and chuckles softly. "Oh, well…thanks. It's a rough job." He turns to pick his glass up again for a small sip. "Pepper. Interesting name. I like it. So much more interesting then 'Harvey'," he offers with a charming, lop-sided grin. He glances curiously down at the Journal, and then back up at her. "In business, miss?"

*

The comment about it being a rough job gets a brief nod, but no more questions. People come to a bar to get away, to forget, not to talk work. Not this bar, at least. She shifts her elegant frame on the barstool so she's more fully facing him, crossing her slender legs right over left. The motion hikes her skirt up just enough to reveal the edge of lace on her right thigh high stocking. She's now fully focused on him instead of the paper. "Mm… Harvey is nice. Would be nice to say tipsy. Haaarvey." She teases him warmly. Then the question of herself comes and she nods, "New CFO of Wayne Enterprises, actually… just seeing what this rag is slandering me with today. A woman executive. You'd think I'd committed treason."

*

His gaze dips as she turns to face him. It lands on her perfect legs as she crosses them, and the man catches the hint of lace. He brings his gaze back up and sips his drink. He then chuckles. "Well, I've heard it slurred from a few drunk mouths. Lot of drinkers in my family," he offers with a grin. He says it jokingly, and doesn't seem upset by it. "Never had the chance to hear it slurred from a girl, though. Could be fun." He arches an eyebrow. "Oh, wow. Congratulations. Well, I'm all for women in all sorts of positions." He winces at that. "Now, that was -not- meant to be innuendo. Seriously. I've known a lot of women I'd rather be having my back over some men."

*

The positions commentary makes her blink and choke out a little laugh over her martini. She doesn't seem offended, more amused than anything, especially as he treads back on the words. Pepper shakes her head smoothly, a few red waves falling across her shoulders. Her hair is half up in one of those stylish *bumps* right at the crest of her head, but then pinned behind that bump and falling in loose waves down her shoulders. "Thank you. It's been good work… Challenging, but good. I'm really lucky for the chance. But…it doesn't lend itself to a good night's sleep. Hard to shut your eyes, you know? Too much running around in the back of your head."

*

"Oh, I know exactly what you mean," he offers with a soft chuckle. He watches her in a way she is likely familiar with. He is clearly admiring her beauty and is drawn in by it, but there is thar recognition of intelligence and ability in his gaze as well. But yes, that first part does mean he is checking her out. "I haven't slept in my own bed in…God knows how long. My secretary is always yelling at me. Or, she was until she quit." He chuckles. "Too much work for her. Now I'm left dealing with it all, and am getting even less sleep. There are a lot of bad people involved in the legal and political side of this city who would love to see 'Apollo' sink."

*

While he watches her like that, Pepper certainly doesn't seem to mind. She's a woman who doesn't entirely know she's lovely, but still does all the right things almost subconsciously. Yet, there is still this strange, girl-next-door innocence to her, even as she smiles and blushes a bit at the way his eyes scan her slender frame. "Well, you should have listened to her. SOME sleep is necessary or you will completely fry out your brain. Trust me, I know. And…if you're looking for someone else, there was a young man named Ryan…he was working with the Act-F program, but it's being shut down, as far as I've heard… he was brilliant. I wonder if I could find his number for you…"

*

He nods a bit to that. "Maybe. I'll think about it. I tend to butt heads with other men, though." He furrows his brow a bit and takes another drag of his cigarette, seeming to have forgotten he had it. He grinds out the little remaining bit and takes another sip of his drink. Harvey is a handsome man, and is clearly in excellent shape under his suit. But he doesn't do much to show it off, even though it is clearly there.

*

For just a moment, Pepper's eyes wander downwards, taking in his chest and the cut of his stomach under his suit shirt. He wasn't the only one who could look. She's still blushing and remembers her martini much the way he's just remembered his cigarette. Her's is quite dead now, an ashline in the tray. "Mm… maybe not then. But I will keep ears open for anyone good. If I find someone, send them to the DA's office? They'll come with a direct reference from me, Pepper Potts."

*

"Sounds good to me," he offers with a smile. "Make sure they can handle a heavy work load and a bore like myself." He adjusts his tie lightly and glances down into his glass before downing the remainder. He pushes it across the bar to the bartender. "Pretzels, too."

*

A little, mock-glare comes from Pepper's pale eyes as she shifts herself enough so she's half turned back to her drink, but it's in a teasingly almost eye-rolling away and her smile is still warm, if amused, "Mm, you know, mock-humbleness is not becoming of a man like you, Harvey. You are bloody well brilliant and you know it. Own it. Mr. Apollo…" She scoffs, grin widening from those red velvet lips again. "Heavy work load, yes. Bore? Not at all. Not a man like you. Not in a city like this."

*

He chuckles lightly. "I can actually be hard to work with. The previous secretary quit for a reason, you know? I can actually be fairly difficult. I don't do mock-humble." He grins softly, and sips his new drink, before setting the pretzels between them. "Hey, don't blame me for the nickname," he offers with a laugh. It is a nice laugh. "I didn't come up with it."

*

"I didn't say that you weren't going to be difficult. I'm sure you are. And incredibly demanding, and probably unapologetic about making this city the best city you can build. I know your type, I see it in your eyes. You drive yourself half crazy, sleep on the couch half the nights, and the nights you go home it's hard to sleep wondering if you've done enough. And you do that to your people too. No, I'm certain you're nearly impossible to work with…" She flashes him a wider smile and a blue eyed wink to follow it, "But never *boring*." Pepper reassures him. While the listing of traits might SEEM an insult, the tone of her voice is all APPRECIATIVE. She takes one last gulp of her martini, finishing it and motioning for another. "…we should both eat something more than pretzels for dinner, you know. If either of us had a partner who cared enough to pull up with our shite, they'd be yelling at us now."

*

Harvey furrows his brows a bit as she describes him in a nutshell. He doesn't look insulted, though. He chuckles lightly and glances at the pretzels before he nots. "We both might be a bit over dressed for it, but there's an amazing all-night diner a few blocks from here. Killer hamburgers, and the shakes are the bee's knees." He adjusts his tie and flashes her a small grin, slightly lopsided. "Are you game?" Her comment about having nobody who cares enough makes his smile falter, but only for a brief second, because it makes the man realize she is also single.

*

"Screw overdressed. I suspect we are both a bit over dressed for life." Pepper states flatly, her lips pulling into a more amused smirk ass he pops one pretzel past her lips and considers. Then she calls over to the bartender, "Mike, kill those drinks… hand me the bill. We're gonna go get real food. You should start serving burgers here, you know?" The bartender looks less than thrilled with her business suggestion, but she's already pulling out a twenty and pressing it his direction with the insistance of a woman who KNOWS she's getting paid better than a public servant, but isn't doing it to show off. She's simply just used to taking charge.

*

He grins a bit as he watches her, and he offers the bartender a wink before he slides from his stool. He pulls out his pack of cigarettes and lights another one up, because this is the 60's. He turns and offers the crook of his arm. "Not far. We can walk it. Work up an appetite and whatnot." If she takes his arm, she can feel the firm muscle beneath. He may work at a desk, but the man -clearly- trains.

*

Pepper's ego does preen a bit as he doesn't complain about her buying the drinks. That was a point in his favor. She then slips into her black over coat and does gently place her arm in his. He might be all firm muscle, but he might realize just how much skin and bones she is beneath that dress. Yes, she's skinny looking, but she's like some frail bird to the touch, or someone who is just now recovering from some long sickness. A lot of it hidden beneath artful make up. Still, her delicate frame leans against him as they step out into the chilly, late-winter night. "Mm… seems you still have time for a gym?"

*

His brow furrows a bit when he feels how frail she is. He doesn't comment, however. "Rarely. I have a bag in my office, and ankle-straps under my desk for crunches, and a bar I have that I can set in the door for pull-ups." He chuckles. "Whenever I'm hitting a brick wall in a case I tend to work out. Either that or I cook. They help clear my head." He leads her down the sidewalk, a soft smile on his face. "I used to box, actually. I don't have the time for it these days, though."

*

Despite paying for the drinks, Pepper is content to be lead and to walk close enough to him that no one watching would assume them anything but some sort of post-date couple, especially in their elegant clothes and her sky-high, patent leather high heels that click a faint heartbeat on pavement in the night. This close, she also smells wonderful, even this time of the day. Some sort of vanilla, cocoa butter, and the hint of feminine sweat beneath it all. "Mm… Punching bag. Maybe I should install one. It might save broken nose or two on the board, at least…" She only half teases. "…I used to dance. Same thing."

*

He nods to that. "Also build up a lot of aggression when dealing with the…kind of people I deal with. Working out helps me get it out without doing something stupid and letting it all get to me." He chuckles lightly. He smells of a nice man's cologne, only lightly added. It is not overwhelming, and whatever it is is decent, but not something incredibly expensive. He is not rolling in dough.

*

As they walk, she takes in a deep breath, perhaps hiding a yawn, but more likely just enjoying that momentary scent of his cologne. It's nice, when one has been so long away from the opposite sex. Sometimes it just felt good. Protective. She instinctively leans into him out of the wind as the turn the corner to the block of the diner. "Noted. I… suspect I will know that feeling quite well in the coming weeks. Only mine are far more white collar scum than… what the streets have to provide. Never the less, a punching bag is certainly a good thought. Even if it might confuse Bruce."

*

"Well, I try white-collar criminals, too…," he offers with a grin. "Bruce?," he asks curiously. "Wayne?" He takes a drag on his cigarette as they walk along, idly puffing on it as they move through the late night. "And sometimes it is fun to confuse people," he states with a grin. "Ah, here we are." The diner comes into view, and he holds the door open for her. It is a typical trailer diner, which were becoming very popular around this time. Booths, a bar, pie under a glass case…all of it. He flashes the server a smile, and she seems to recognize him. He leads her to a booth and waits for her to sit before sliding in across from her. Menus are set down.

*

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