|Scene Title||Of Tea and Harpies|
|Synopsis||Simone and Scrivner have tea and discuss parentage after their fight with Harpies|
The Garment District is located next to one of the more popular areas at the moment, Chelsea. While not as posh as its neighbor to the South, the Garment District still has the higher rents and expenses. One of the Garment District's main attractions are its many multi-story lofts, located around the towering skyscrapers throughout the area. Moderate apartment complexes are located next to the more wealthy condos and high-rise lofts. The area is devoted more towards the residential side, though one may find countless convenience stores situated between the apartments and brownstones.
A day or so after the Coney Island meeting, Simone calls Rufus to invite him over for tea. Her loft is in the Garment District in one of the older buildings. It has a lot of character, plenty of brick and old wood, and when she answers the door she's wearing a comfortable dress with a soft, floral print. Very homey. "Hello, Rufus, won't you come in?"
He accepted, of course, and he made sure to rearrange his appointments so he could be free at tea-time. On the other side of the threshold, Rufus Scrivner stands in a three-piece suit of a very dark navy blue, wearing a necktie of a paler shade and a white dress shirt. Over one shoulder, he's holding the strap of a slim, black nylon case. He doesn't go anywhere these days without his sword, oh no. His smile is faint, just a little tug at the corners of his mouth, and he inclines his head politely. "Good day, Doctor. Thank you." As he steps inside, he glances about her apartment, stating, "Charming flat you have."
Simone has appointed her place in antiques, mostly from the 1920's, and the decor somehow suits her very well. "Thank you, Rufus. And please, I think you can call me Simone." she replies with a bit of a crooked smile. Once he's inside, she gestures down a short hall past a small library on the right. "I've prepared tea for us in the sitting room."
He actually looks as if he rather approves of decor, library and the thought of tea in the sitting room. Curiosity compels him to take a quick glance into the library as he passes it, following closely behind the lady. Tucking his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket, his eyebrows arch, and he turns his pale eyes to the back of her head. "As you like, Simone." He tries her name on his lips, brow furrowing as if he's not quite sure that speaking it suits him. "So I'm given to understand that discussions of Spider Man may not have been all that they appeared to be."
Simone is even wearing proper heels for the occasion, perhaps as a show that she can both act and dress as a proper lady. She gives a soft laugh at the mention of Spider Man, leading him into a comfortable room where he has choice of several chairs, and a tea service is set on the coffee table. On a silver tray, no less. "Not exactly, no. But our …exercise … that followed sort of confirmed that as well. Won't you sit? And how do you take your tea?"
She's really gone all out. Rufus is hardly unaware of it, and he takes in the details of the tea service, her high heels and the silver tray with amusement twitching a little more fiercely across his mouth. "Just a dash of milk, if you please, my dear doctor. Thank you." The man eases the weight of his sword in its case off of his shoulder, resting it gently against an armchair before he turns and sinks down gratefully into it. He crosses his legs by propping an ankle over the opposite knee, interlacing his fingers across his lap. "I'd known that there would be others like me," he muses, watching her again. "I didn't think that I would ever meet one, however, much less three in practically one day."
Simone knows even to pour the milk first, certainly speaking of a -proper- upbringing, then pours out tea for them both. Smiling as she settles with her own cup in a chair facing him, she tucks one ankle behind the other and holds the saucer in one hand. "I've known as well. To be honest, I was just starting to come clean with my own parentage when you arrived." The silver medallion is about her neck, and she turns it so that he can see the crescent moon shape scribed into the circle. "Artemis, Goddess of the Moon."
He sits up and then leans forward, carefully taking up the saucer and cup into his hands. Rufus gently blows across the sip of his tea before taking a sip, exhaling a deep, long breath. After another sip, he pauses, blinking at the lady doctor in mild bewilderment. Porcelain clinks when he rests the cup on the saucer. "In mythology, Artemis was a virgin goddess. Is that not the case in reality?"
Simone smiles wryly at that, giving a nod. "Oh it is, I assure you." she replies. "The mechanics are… complicated. My… sire… was of divine lineage. And apparently by some pre-arrangement, he renounced his claim to me immediately. So that Artemis could adopt me as her own."
"Ahhhhh…. I see." Rufus nods his head, savouring every little sip of tea that he takes while he listens to her speak. "Do you know the name of your sire? I understand that the Lady is your adoptive mother now, but I'm only curious." One thought occurs to him, one that gets him tilting his head at an angle and a question forming on his lips, but… he doesn't ask it. He just takes another drink.
Simone shakes her head, raising her cup to let her breath cool the tea. "The Lady -is- my mother, as certainly as if she'd borne me." she corrects softly. "Mortal limitations do not apply to the gods in such matters, she told me. But that's quite alright." She sips, then, watching him. "Was there something else?"
"No, nothing worth mentioning," Rufus says with an idle wave of his hand. He rubs a finger across his bottom lip, contemplatively studying the woman. "And Marius Forest… Who is his father, do you know?"
Simone shakes her head slowly. "Marius is… cautious where I was impulsive. He scolded me for being so open and potentially exposing myself to harm. You and I are commonly blooded, however, and share the bond of combat. Along with Vette. In any case, his is not my story to tell."
Something tightens at the corners of Rufus' eyes, and mildly, he says, "I'm not so certain. After what I've observed, I'd say Mr. Forest has a streak of impulsiveness in him as well, but I'll respect his privacy. Are there very many like us in New York? I've seen and heard some strange things, but nothing I've come across has given me even a vague estimate."
Simone gives a light shrug, there, and holds the cup poised to sip again. "I have met one or two, but I'm still fairly new here. It would seem, in any case, that New York is a local epicenter for such activity." She sips, then asks. "So what is -your- story, Rufus?"
His fingers rub over the smoothness of his porcelain cup, and for a second or two he doesn't answer, eyes narrowed contemplatively. "Yes, New York does seem to be quite a hive," he mutters, more to himself. The man draws in a breath, and with a rush, he sighs, "Ahhh… as for me, well. I was born in London, and my father is the Norse god Tyr. I didn't find out this little fact until my mother's funeral, where he decided to come pay me a visit, hand over a few gifts and tell me of the war between the gods and titans. I decided to come to America to make a clean start after some nasty business with my family, and now I am partnered with a few gentlemen in a law firm. By day, I fight in the court rooms. At night, I slip into my own set of spandex undergarments and drive obscenely accessorized vehicles."
Decorum be damned, Simone actually -giggles- at the last. "I think that's a bit too much information on the fashion front, but a nice, concise story all the same." She tilts her head, giving an amused look. "It also sounds a bit like a joke. You know? One that starts off 'A doctor and a lawyer walk into a bar….'"
Rufus' eyes glitter over the rim of his teacup as he sips, smirking at the lady as if he were pretending he'd said nothing at all unusual. Again he sets his cup upon his saucer, the tea half-emptied by now, and he's glancing down at the tray in search of any chocolate digestives or other suitable biscuits. "Indeed, my dear doctor, and let's not forget to throw the costumed weatherman into the mix." He licks his lips, then he asks, "Now here is another thing I've been wondering. In what field of medicine do you specialize?"
Simone has prepared a complete tea service, right down to scones, 'biscuits', tea cakes and the like. She takes another sip, watching him with bright eyes as well. "Like I said, that's a story for Marius to tell, not me." she replies. "Oh, I just completed my residency before moving down here, actually. I worked in an E.R., which was -really- good exposure to a variety of problems. But right now, I can't really say that I specialize in anything, particularly."
"Ahhh, I see. And where do you work now?" he asks. Ahhh…. scones! Now if she has clotted cream and strawberry jam, Rufus will actually have to say something to the lady and praise her forethought. He leans forward again, gently setting down both cup and saucer, in order to take up one of the scones and a butter knife, carefully cutting it open.
Clotted cream and strawberry jam? Well that -would- be the cat's meow, wouldn't it? The jam is blackberry, actually, but Simone did have the foresight to arrange for the cream. "I'm still searching for a place where I can help, actually. I don't want it to be merely a job, but somewhere that I can contribute to the community. A free clinic, or something."
"I certainly understand. I'm confident you'll find what you're searching for." Good enough! Rufus' fingers flutter over the jar of clotted cream, and he plucks it up, looking it over with a smirk on his lips. "And, I say, Doctor, that I am quite, quite impressed. You are the first lady I have met in this country who even knows that clotted cream even exists." He liberally smears it all over the scone, then he adds a dollop of the blackberry jam.
Simone laughs softly at that, watching him with an amused smile. "Well I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, as the saying goes. And mother made sure I had a proper upbringing." She gives a little shrug, then adds. "I thought you might appreciate it, judging from your accent and your suit at our first meeting."
"And I most assuredly do. Thank you, Simone." He's very careful not to spill crumbs all over her furniture or his suit as he takes a bite, savouring its sweet, fruity, creamy deliciousness around sips of tea to wash it all down. He's going to enjoy that scone until the very last one is gone, and then he reaches for a couple of biscuits and a small cake. "I'm sorry," he explains, in between bites. "I skipped lunch earlier in the day, and it's going to be awhile before I can have any dinner. Tell me more of yourself? How did you learn to shoot the way you do?"
Simone helps herself to one of the tea cakes, eating with a proper etiquette that would please her mother. "Some of it is divine providence, of course. I had my maternal visit right before starting my undergrad work. But I honed many of my skills by running with a motorcycle gang." She pauses to watch for shock at that, then continues. "During med school, I worked as an exotic dancer in the evenings and weekends."
There's not much of a reaction until she says 'exotic dancer.' The lady caught Rufus in mid-sip of his tea, at which point, his eyes widen and a swallow goes down the wrong set of pipes. Shoulders hunching, back arching, he struggles not to cough as he hurriedly sets down his cup and snatches up a napkin. By the sheer grace of the gods alone does he manage not to spray anything either, and he ends up coughing roughly into the napkin while his cheeks flush a very healthy shade of red.
Simone's eyes brighten and she smiles crookedly, watching good manners struggle with shock as Rufus tries to keep his composure. She waits until he catches his breath at least, then continues. "That's a somewhat new reaction for me, Rufus. Most guys just want me to take my top off when they find out." she teases. Setting her cup down, she refreshes his tea to give him a further moment. "The money was good, it was a -safe- club, and pole dancing -really- tones your abs and your butt."
When he does catch his breath, Rufus wipes off his mouth with the napkin and roughly clears his throat. He's still blushing fairly hard, though he straightens his posture and glances down into his teacup while reaching for it. "Doctor, please. This is one aspect of your life that is absolutely /none/ of my business." He clears his throat again, takes up his refreshed cup, and takes another quick drink. Then he looks up at her, scowling peevishly over the rim. He doesn't say it, but it's clear on his face, just what he's thinking. Some people's children. Geez.
Simone looks amused, for her part, and even gives a soft laugh. "My apologies, Rufus, if I've embarrassed you. But it's only none of your business if you've never been to a club where I've danced. Mother has never been shy about such things. She believes that her children should learn through change and diverse circumstances."
The man very quietly harrumphs in the back of his throat, covering up still more of his embarrassment with another sip of tea. "It is quite safe to say I've never been to a club where you've danced. I am sure I would have remembered you, if I had seen you." Another sip. Time to change the subject. "Your mother seems to be a very… earthy sort of woman. Has she taken you on travels around the world? Or funded them? Surely you've seen many things."
Simone nibbles more of her tea cake, shaking her head. "Actually, no. Mother is more the sort to give a nudge in the direction she wants you to go, then stand back to see how you do. My -mortal- mother saw fit to cut me off financially just before I started Med School, so I needed to find an occupation that brought in a lot of cash." Turning to him, she asks. "What about you? How did your father prepare you?"
"That's too bad," he says, calming down fairly quickly now that the topic of conversation is well and truly past poles and what some ladies do with them to make money. "Ahh… I was not quite prepared in any sense of the word. My career as a lawyer seemed a natural choice for me. Law enforcement and the military also appealed, but my mother and her husband insisted on something more suitable to my status. The revelation of my father came as a complete surprise. There was no guidance at all, no nudging."
Simone smiles softly at that, nodding. "Our parents favor different styles, it would seem." she offers. "And yet it would seem our skills complement each other: my shooting at range and your sword in close." The smile returns, and she adds. "But let's talk of things less…. messy."
<scene fades into small talk>
Any additional notes fall to the bottom.