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Lately Janet has been working up some frequent flyer miles in her recruiting efforts for the Defenders, she was quite pleased with herself and the thought she would actually manage to make a difference. The Avengers were disbanded by men and silly politics, but here she was, not bending over for this folly, and making a new team. Beyond the reach of stupid politicians. She has so far worked up something that could be called a roster, but having heard and read about Wanda's antics in saving Central Park, she worked out to get her contact and arrange this meeting in the Green Man Teahouse.
Dressed fashionably, Janet's color of the day was red, from her tight fitting top, to her a-line skirt and the perfect pill box hat. Even her pointy flats were red, the only real break from all the red were her somewhat aristocratic white gloves. She sat at the reclusive table she reserved for Wanda and herself, waiting for the mystical hero to arrive.
*
What's a girl to do when it comes to downtime? The Transian sorceress is not someone who sits idle. She holds no functional job, but her responsibilities keep her occupied far more than meets the eye. However, even she needs refreshment and the Green Man Teahouse in the Village is the sort of place to have bracing blends on hand. Tins line the shelves, their handwritten yellow cards identifying one from another. Earthy smells imparted by the many potted plants and hanging baskets in macrame nets give reason for the place's name. The witch is already inbo in preparation for the meeting, her habitual attire the same as she always wears. Or variations on it: black leggings, black skirt, black corset, killer burgundy leather coat wrapped around her, but worn open in the front. If she is out of a trend, it likely doesn't matter.
This is, after all, a demon hunter. She has higher concerns than looking pretty. Stabbing monsters is not for the fashionable! (Much.) She angles to Janet, having discarded the other employees as unlikely targets. A pot brews on the table, hot water aswirl; two cups are laid out, and all the essentials. Honey, sugar cubes, and cream are among the options. Staff has also left a few cream filled cookies as an incentive to stay a while.
*
Also shortly after Wanda is seated, the famed three level plates filled with finger sandwiches, scones and cookies make a showing. Janet went all out, though it's unclear if it's to entreat Wanda, or herself. She does pour the two a cup as Wanda joins her, "Ms. Maximoff?" She asks as if to make sure, though Wanda's manner of dress is enough of a tell, "I do like your adventurous fashion sense," she comments with a grin. "Would you say it's fair to assume you enjoy or otherwise feel obligated to help people in need?"
*
The appearance of delicate foods are worthy of their reputation, though Wanda worries more about settling into the seat without knocking anything with her coat. She slides her hands down her sides to gather the longer back to her thighs, and then slips into the narrow seat pushed back from the table. Once settled, her posture reinforces the steel boning in that corset, or a commitment to be as proper as possible. Casual as a stance, it is not. Next goes the napkin into her lap.
"Thank you," she murmurs, and the immediate impression of her accent cannot be overlooked. She's from somewhere between Rome and Moscow, and her surname does not give a good bead on where. "I am. Miss Van Dyne? Good day to you." Her hands settle on the edge of the table, wrists biting into the metal bound wood. She takes some moments to consider the question; her second language, or even her fifth, isn't English. A few seconds stretch longer, and then she says, "I do not like people hurt. Not by things that should not be."
*
"You know…it is allowed to remove the coat, if it's more comfortable," Janet offers with a playful wink, looking quite amused by Wanda's struggle with the coat. Taking a sip of her apple and cinnamon tea, Janet awaits Wanda's reply to her question before inclining her head. "I figured as much…good work on Central Park, very impressive. Have you considered making a career of it…? Helping people? Defending people?"
*
Wanda gives the faintest shake of her head, the dark spill of her hair flowing around her shoulders. "I wear it," she says simply, letting the constrictions of her linguistic abilities serve. Or she truly is that laconic, happiest not to say much at a time. "New York has too many problems. Someone must help." She raises her teacup then, taking a sip, regardless of whether the liquid might be hot enough to burn her. In a way, the heat is a welcome thing on her tongue, along with the flavor behind it. Honey is added later, in rather considerable quantities. "I have always done this, help."
*
"So I noticed, you're a stubborn type, aren't you?" Janet asks curiously, before quickly adding, "it's fine, I'm like that myself…I get told as much quite often." She sneaks a little cucumber and cream sandwich from the top plate and savors its taste, "it's real good, you should try some." Following another sip, Janet places down her tea cup and states, "thought so. In that case, how would you like to join a team of like-minded people? Remember the Avengers?"
*
Being a stranger in a strange land has its advantages. Building up a tough shell is one of them. The golden-skinned witch nods her agreement, and then adds another dollop of honey into the cup. "I do not. They were gone when I came to America." The best she can offer is another minute tilt of her head, and the slightest of frowns. "They go and the aliens come. It is not a good thing."
*
"Problem is silly man playing silly politics," Janet is more than happy to share her take of things with anyone who asks for it. Even with those who don't. Needless to say, she never forgave the government that offense. "I was one of them, you know, and we did good…I want that again. But this time, no government, no politics, no games. We'll be Defenders, we look after people, we defend them. Nobody could have issues with that, I checked with a lawyer and everything…" by now she's getting so upset, she's talking animatedly, with hand gestures, and settles herself down by taking a few big bites off a scrumptious blueberry scone.
*
"You have only yourselves? What are your people, resources?" Wanda asks these questions around looking at the sandwiches, and avoiding any that happen to have a meat filling. Chives, cucumber, and cream will do fine for her, though she might give the dill-spiked cream a discreet swipe of a knife to remove some of it. Only so much of that will be possible. All the same, she is an outstanding choice when it comes to listening, unlikely to interrupt and terribly more skilled in the sense of paying close mind. "What do you want to do? stop the aliens? Be on streets?"
*
"I have gathered an interesting group of people," Janet starts, not quite divulging she went after anyone she could, but hey, an avatar of the god of Thunder is nothing to scoff about! "I have my fortunes to assist us, and if Howard Stark is still in, his riches and technology to boot. But I find most important is willingness to make a difference, and be out there when needed." She has herself another little bite sandwich, smoked salmon this time, before noting, "I want to blast lameos like M.O.D.O.K. right in their stupid faces. I don't care what they want to call themselves, aliens, gods, Asgardians, Soviets, whatever…oh…and incase you don't know, M.O.D.O.K. is the asshole who wanted to bring nuclear holocaust to the world."
*
"His son, too." Tony is just as blindingly rich as the father, after all, and not a little easier on the eyes. Her amber gaze is unflinching, her expression gently devoid of overlying emotion save mild curiosity and burning focus. Such are the temperatures firing her skin into porcelain, somewhat immobile with thoughts. "Yes. Someone must do something." She tips her head slightly, relearning the meaning of 'MODOK.' "What is MODOK doing now?"
*
"Probably nursing the stinging zap I gave him right in his stupid forehead," Janet grins as she speaks the words, "served him right, thinking he can take out the Avengers with such ease. Jerk. He's also ugly by the way," Janet mentions after the fact, as if it even mattered. "But if he made a move again, it would be better if there were Defenders ready for him."
*