Natasha R. (
latrodectus) wrote in
capeandcowllogs2012-08-15 02:03 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Entry tags:
(no subject)
WHO: Natasha (
latrodectus), Daken (
trollverine)
WHERE: Monaco
WHEN: Last… weekend?
WARNINGS: This is a log designed for maximum smug rich people in fancy clothing.
SUMMARY: Daken and Natasha meet on reconnaissance in Monte Carlo.
FORMAT: Up to Meg!
It was the beginning of a strict season. All over the papers, borders closing, scribbles of protest signs. There was nothing that could make you want to stretch your legs quite like the bars of a cage. That was psychology.
Natasha heard a lot of things, too many things for her to listen to. But this stood out. There was an arms deal going down tonight, in the gilded back rooms of this casino. She didn't need to go, she didn't have to stop it. But it was the beginning of a strict season, and she'd been seeing a lot of bars. So Natasha booked a suite in the Hôtel de Paris and booked a train ticket up from Milan. She planned on finding out all that she could, with the sort of all-access pass being a pretty girl can get you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
WHERE: Monaco
WHEN: Last… weekend?
WARNINGS: This is a log designed for maximum smug rich people in fancy clothing.
SUMMARY: Daken and Natasha meet on reconnaissance in Monte Carlo.
FORMAT: Up to Meg!
It was the beginning of a strict season. All over the papers, borders closing, scribbles of protest signs. There was nothing that could make you want to stretch your legs quite like the bars of a cage. That was psychology.
Natasha heard a lot of things, too many things for her to listen to. But this stood out. There was an arms deal going down tonight, in the gilded back rooms of this casino. She didn't need to go, she didn't have to stop it. But it was the beginning of a strict season, and she'd been seeing a lot of bars. So Natasha booked a suite in the Hôtel de Paris and booked a train ticket up from Milan. She planned on finding out all that she could, with the sort of all-access pass being a pretty girl can get you.
no subject
But resources were finite. Something had to be sacrificed. When a country chose to dedicate its time and money and uniformed pawns to blocking a certain kind of trespasser, opportunities were created.
Daken was in Monte Carlo looking for opportunities. Information would be easy to find, in this playground of the rich: people talked when they thought they were among equals, and he wasn't the only one who understood that the ImBargo Act made a perfect smokescreen.
He was wandering the casino floor with a drink in his hand, eavesdropping. Red hair caught his eye, as it often did. It took him half a second to confirm, through the crowd, who he was looking at.
He knew that the more photogenic Avengers sometimes showed up in places like this, for what he had assumed were public relations purposes, or because they had been socialites in their ordinary lives. He had done a little research while pretending to be one. Perhaps she was promoting a cause: tell your friends not to close the door on us.
But speculation was boring. He moved across the room, his eyes never leaving her.
no subject
But she couldn't whip her head around, make a scene of it. That wouldn't do. Too obvious; it would put her at a disadvantage. So she tried the subtler ways, catching glimpses of reflections off mirrored walls, off wine glasses. Around corners. But no dice. After all, people come to Monte Carlo to be seen. Of course everyone was looking. Still, the pinprick feeling didn't go away.
There was a bar, maybe fifty meters from where she was standing. Natasha decided to order a drink, and sat down, deliberately, at the end, her fingers tapping impatiently on the polished wood. There were three empty seats, right next to her. If she was being followed, well. Maybe they'd take the bait.
no subject
He set his glass down next to her and leaned against the bar, his back to the wall, watching the casino floor. "I was going to ask if I could buy you a drink. Alas."
no subject
Her voice did not waver, her legs did not move. Her head tilted a bit in his direction, and that was the acknowledgement Daken got. That and the words, of course.
Natasha switched her drink order daily. She didn't like to develop habits.
no subject
"As a citizen of..." he paused, searching for something more descriptive and less ridiculous than 'the City'; "--your domain, what message should I take from this? Do the Avengers represent the American Dream? Vault to the top of social ladder and throw away the kind of money the average powerless man, literally and figuratively, will never touch?"
The shot wasn't likely to hit dead on (it was too cynical, and if he'd learned nothing, it was that superheroes actually did have lofty ideals), but that wasn't the point.