Every hero movie needs a party

[no_applause]

WHO: Anyone and everyone
WHERE: Some Ballroom
WHAT: PARTAY! AKA the Fundraiser Padme is throwing to raise money for Tony's philanthropic oopsie
WHEN: mid-April
WARNINGS: Nothing in general. Potential for villain violence.

((ooc: This is a general mingle post. Go forth and do whatever you want! I've set the scene for the party but what you do in it is up to you! Want to party and schmooze with some rich folks? Go for it! Want to be a bad guy and try to steal shit from under said rich people's noses? Fabulous! Want to be a hero and stop said bad guys. Awesome! Want to brood and sulk like the dark angsty DC character you've always wanted to be? You do you, boo. Go forth and have fun!))

Maybe you're well to do in the city. Maybe you just know a guy who knows a guy. Or maybe you just have the right connections and heard it through the grapevine. One way or another, you've heard about the party of the month. Padme Naberrie Amidala, on behalf of the Stark Industries Board of Directors, has planned the finest fundraising event of her career to help pay for the new wing on the children's hospital... And maybe some starving children Tony wants to save.

Arrival

The entrance sets the stage for the whole event. Lit posts leading up to a wide circular doorway. The red carpet from the sidewalk is lined with paparazzi looking to snap some primo pictures of the attendees. Pose for the cameras, mingle, or just grab a drink from one of the waitstaff as you head inside.

Dinner is Served

The tables are set with fine place settings and beautiful center pieces. Most of the room is decked out in black and white, so as to not draw attention to the lovely colored gowns worn by many of the attendees. The gourmet meal has several options to satisfy everyone. The deserts are even more elaborate. Grab a bite and socialize. Or steal a seat or a plate when no one's looking. I'm not the boss of you.

Time to Socialize

There might not be a formal dance floor but the string quintet is playing some lovely music while the guests mingle. Now's the time to grab a glass of champagne or something from the bar. Snag some fancy looking hors d'oeuvres from a wandering server and spend time with your fellow citizens of this fine city.

Auction!

It is a fundraiser, after all. Aside from the cost to get in (unless you're a filthy freeloader who snuck in the back door), there is also a silent auction set up for attendees. But there are no gift baskets or wreathes in this auction. Nay, my friends. There is a reason there are guards at the door. This auction includes such things as Rolex watches, diamond necklaces, ski trips to the Andes and other fancy rich people things.

But the cherry on top is Tony Stark's contribution. A car that mysterious billionaire Din Djarin is rumored to have his eye on. The car has somehow been brought into the event and is on display for anyone to admire. But remember, that car did belong to Tony Stark, so none of you villains even think about trying to steal it!

The Bar

Every formal event has to have a bar for people tired of champagne or those who just want to be antisocial and run away for a while. Does this really need any more description than that?

Comments

The bar, where else? OTA~

[in_extremis]

The whole affair was kind of, a little bit, his fault, so it was reasonable that he put in an appearance, but that didn't meant that Tony had to be on time. As long as the right people saw his face, Tony had been there and done his requisite socializing and could duck in after most of the cameras had moved on, and get back to the garage before Jarvis had even closed the curtains. Ideally, the mystery would lead to a handful of rumours of who he might have arrived and left with that could keep a few papers entertained for the week, and anyone considering getting close at a reasonable camera-shy distance. It was a balancing act that Tony could do with his eyes closed, or four drinks deep as it happened to be this evening as he gestured for the bartender's attention once more, then waved to the small group that had followed him here for any orders to put in.

"Here's the thing: I'm not saying the Saint-Tropez villa is a good deal right now, and you're probably not going to be able to see it for another six months judging by how slow the clean up after Doom's latest tantrum is going," he was already explaining to the glittering ladies who had been doing just fine figuring out where to put their money before he had arrived, Tony was sure. His shirt collar hadn't even survived the drive over, that was his own fault, but he did have to keep himself very still as one of the women laid a pale hand on the placket to pluck coyly at the button, her skin iridescently pale against the black he was layered in, then sat like a pearl in the gold scarf he slipped from around his neck to capture her palm and bring it quickly to his lips instead, diverting her with a flushed giggle away from touching him any further. "However..." he purred, twisting the scarf between both hands and draping himself back against the bar, "you know he's going to move on soon, you're supporting a most excellent cause, and I could be convinced to sweeten the deal with a dinner next week to celebrate." He was going to need that drink, any minute now.

[no_applause]

There was a gentle throat clearing behind Tony. Padme smiled around his shoulder, looking ravishing in red. "Pardon me, ladies. I'm afraid I must borrow Mr. Stark for a moment."

She'd noticed that little move with the scarf. She wasn't certain if he needed rescuing from the gaggle of women, but maybe if they were temporarily shooed away they'd actually bid on the items instead of flirting with the billionaire.

[sinistral]

Bucky had the fortune of being rescued from a similar encounter earlier; seeing Tony so accosted, he decided to pay it forward, because he was nice like that. Not that Tony needed rescuing; he certainly knew how to handle himself in situations like these. But knowing how wasn't the same as enjoying, and they still had the bulk of the night ahead of them.

As such he approached the group with a casual swagger, insinuating himself right in between Tony and the next closest woman even as the billionaire deftly turned the touch of the first one away. Handy trick, that.

"If the French Riviera isn't your style, I hear the Icelandic spa retreat is— invigorating." Bucky leaned into the last world, letting his tone dip suggestively and giving the women a wink. "I'll leave you ladies to debate the merits of each while I steal Mr. Stark for a moment of business."

If Tony was willing to abandon his sprawl at this end of the bar, they could relocate to the other end easily enough. Hopefully. That was the plan, anyway.

[cannot_flinch]

Normally, Ikora wasn't one to get involved in interpersonal relationships and flirting like this. She didn't know this man or the women competing for his attention but he didn't look entirely happy and the way he spoke about a supervillain of this world was of more interesting.

Ever since gaining her memories back she had an interest in learning as much as she could to see if she could find a common theme. A source. All this must come from a source.

"And what would you know about this Doom?" she asked boldly, a skeptical eyebrow raised and a glass of whiskey offered to him. "He sounds... dramatic."

A subtle hint that he sounded dramatic as well.

[beholding_archivist]

It’s at some point later during the party, after a couple of drunk were had and Tony’s companions have sufficiently been fussed at that a more sophisticated lady sets her eyes on him.

The Countess isn’t an unfamiliar sight to many, her light emerald fur, bright green eyes and translucent lavender wings and feathers adorned with deep orange eyes easily set this particular moth at apart from Jon’s other felines. She sits on the counter at the end of the bar, patiently waiting to catch the man’s eyes before greeting him with a slow, very deliberate wink. The sound she makes as she opens her mouth along with the motion, possibly a gentle, soft meow is drowned by the other noises of the party and the small kneading motion she makes with one of her paws is an easily missed one.

But she is clearly watching him, seemingly quite unlike her owner, who is slowly curling the car set up for auction with a contemplating look on his face. It’s not like anyone here knows that he doesn’t even have a driver’s license.

Auction - OTA

[heypartner]

Since Lark was still out sick and no one had a real good idea of where she was Cobb offered to cover the fundraiser. The idea of a blind gossip columnist amused him. That's why he agreed to take the assignment. It had nothing to do with a certain secretive billionaire that was attending.

Nope. Nothing at all.

Cobb wore his one good suit, a tailored black number with a white shirt and, according to Merrin, dark red tie. She said he looked good but he trusted his daughter would be generous even if he didn't.

He got a glass of whiskey from the bar and started to mingle. People had all sorts of questions for him. Which charity did he run? Had Padme's organization helped him and fellow blind people? Did he need help finding his table? The usual questions sighted folks asked blind people.

It was fun to joke and explain but after awhile Cobb needed to get away from all the ignorant good intentions. He made his way to the silent auction which was quiet and allowed him a moment of peace. He even took off his sunglasses and folded his cane away so people would assume he could see as he browsed the offerings with no real idea what he was looking at.

[no_applause]

Padme recognized the reporter as he made his way through the event. She felt bad about the well-meaning people offering help he clearly didn't need. It took her a while to get away, but she sought him out once she was able.

He'd hear her heels as she approached and catch a whiff of her delicate perfume. She stops behind one of his shoulders and smiles. "It might be more convincing of you turn to your left a little."

Entrance and Bar OTA

[beepbeepmotherfucker]

What the heck is he even thinking coming to this thing? After the events of the past few few days, it feels like a bad idea. And yet... When a hero offers you tickets to a fancy party to apologize for destroying your car, how can you say no?

The invitation said black tie, but he doesn't have a tux so he hopes his suit is nice enough. The paparazzi mostly ignore him, but one recognizes him from his outburst at one of the heroes after his car was thrown at a space ship. They start flashing photos and shouting questions about if he's going to sue anyone and how many cars he's lost. He covers his face with one hand and hurries inside. Seriously? Is he really going to be known as the angry car guy now? He feels irritation bubbling inside him and he has to swallow down the bile rising in his throat. Forcing a smile at whoever he just brushed past, he steps to the side just inside the entrance to take a breather before going inside.

Once he's calmed his nerves, he steps inside. That's a lot of people. A lot of rich people. He's going to need a drink. He makes a bee-line for the bar. "Can I get, uh, I don't know. A scotch on the rocks?" He needs something stronger than a beer. When he gets his drink, he steps aside and sips it, trying not to look as out of place as he feels.

Bar!

[mrsklover]

Richie needed some extra cash and there was a temp job as a bartender for a party open. He was pretty good at that. Years of heavy drinking means you know your way around a cocktail. And better yet, no one questions a quiet bartender, usually. It was a good way to pick up some dough and also just chill out after his disastrous few days.

Or it would have been, had a vision of heaven not walked up to his bar all cleaned up in a nice suit. Richie was in one himself but it didn't look nearly that good. Nothing could. Eddie, as always, was just gorgeous. It nearly made his heart ache to even look at him.

Richie's mouth went dry as he went to make the drink real fast while Eddie was distracted. He handed it over with a napkin that he'd scribbled onto:

If you told me you looked this amazing in a suit I wouldn't have suggested a movie as our date...

Wildcard - let's give Richie a coronary

[puddledancer]

Once Eddie's left the bar with his drink and is wandering about, he'll be casually approached by a dude in a red dress shirt, black tie, and black slacks. He even shaved for the occasion, and he's got a half-depleted flute of champagne in one hand.

"Nice suit, man. You biddin'?"

NOT EVERYONE IS FANCY | OTA

[mrsklover]

Richie stands behind the bar, waiting for someone to come over and ask for a drink. This was just a temp job for the night. A way to make some extra cash and relax a little. The past few days had been more than eventful and, honestly, he needed something a bit slower. No battles or robberies or robots telling him about alien clowns. No. Just a nice, quiet bar and the quieter bartender.

He gets an order and shows off with a little spinning of the tumbler and juggling of bottles. He can't talk so this is his way to secure tips. The drink is poured nice and clean with the extra going into a shot glass for himself.

Smirking, he bends forward and takes the shot in his mouth, tipping his head back and then letting the glass tumble to the floor. Hell, he might as well have a little fun here, too.

[sinistral]

Thank whatever gods are listening that there's a bar at these things. After escaping from some mingling of the less-than-fun variety, Bucky definitely needs a drink. Or five.

He waits patiently while the bartender shows off for the hardly-paying-attention patron in front of him — their loss; this guy seems pretty entertaining — and steps up to order when the woman walks away with her drink and her nose in the air.

"Whiskey," he says, tucking a twenty into the jar. Hey, it's not like he can afford the auction, may as well spend what he can on the staff just trying to make a buck. "Whatever you've got that could peel the paint off these walls."

[no_applause]

Padme caught the little show out of the corner of her eye. Damnit. A bartender drinking is a bad thing. But she doesn't want to draw too much attention to things by firing the guy if she doesn't need to. So she'll let it go and keep her eye on him.

Then she notices him pouring drinks and not taking money... and taking more shots. She can't let this go any longer. She has a whispered conversation with the caterer and grabs one of the servers who is apparently an experienced bartender. Walking over, she steps behind the bar and touches the man's shoulder. "Could you please come with me?" The server steps in and starts taking the next drink orders.

[happybeeps]

The bar's as good a place as any to idle and watch out for trouble, and he watches the little show with an impressed head tilt, lips quirking. Poe's not exactly supposed to be drinking on the clock, but one drink's not going to make much difference, and it helps sell the illusion.

"Dealer's choice," he invites, "Nothing too fancy. And one for yourself," he adds, tucking a few bills into the tip jar.

[puddledancer]

Once the cheers from his shot trick die down, Richie's phone vibrates in his pocket. A text notification is waiting for him:

hey im here u gonna let a bro in? 🥳🍻🎉

Around - OTA

[beholding_archivist]

Of course Jon had to attend this party. The invitation had been on his desk for a good while and the Head of the Magnus Institute tends to be expected for these events.

What happened roughly a week ago? Come on. That's last week's news. And most affected areas have reverted back after that little... Mishap. Not that Jon himself has any remorse regarding his actions. These things happen in the line of paranormal studies and research. And that the Institute apparently remains transformed into some sort of apocalyptic tower... Well. That also is a thing that happens. The creatures circling the top of the tower and lurking around its base and occasionally follow people around may take some getting used to, as will the fact that every camera in and around the Institute remains being made out of eyeballs, but it's fine. Everything is fine...

Jonathan Sims arrives at the party in one of his well-tailored white suits, wearing a pair of expensive sunglasses in place of his regular glasses to hide those still faintly glowing eyes along with a bruise. The paparazzi are eager to snatch their share of pictures of him and the mothcats accompanying him while Jon ignores any questions and heads on inside.

The mothcats are quick to spread around and find their own places while serving as additional eyes for Jon. One settles down on that expensive car put on display as if it belongs there.

With his felines off and about, Jon finds himself a place to sit with a glass of champagne in hand and letting his own eyes roam through the room while muttering to no one in particular. "Right... Raising money for children again, are we."

[no_applause]

Padme appears behind him, looking quite unimpressed. Any of her own bruises from recent events are tastefully hidden under her dress and with makeup. She's not about to make a scene, especially while unarmored.

"Yes, we are. If you insist on bringing your pets, I'm afraid I must insist on you keeping them under control."

Can I help you? | OTA

[happybeeps]

Poe's not really on the guest list exactly, he's there as an added security measure. Plain clothes of course, and he does his best to blend in as he does his rounds.

The car's the big ticket item, but there's plenty here for someone to try and steal, and plenty of famous faces with deep pockets to go after as well.

"You thinking of bidding?" he asks, approaching a figure who's been making eyes at the car for a while now. "You win are you going to set it up an impressive showpiece, or actually let the tires hit the pavement now and again?"

[cardsyouredealt]

"What?" She blinked and turned, looking behind her. "Oh, um, no. I was just admirin the car. Don't get to see a lot like her. Not close up anyway. She's a beaut."

She'd been circling back looking at the car, work of art really, three or four times already. The body was so sleek she bet smoke just rolled right around it in wind tunnels. Her ground clearance cut the draft to make her handle like a dream. If she could get a look under that hood... she bit her lip.

Amanda looked at that car the way a lot of people looked at someone they found desperately attractive.

But it was way out of her league. "I hope whoever gets her they take good care of her."

Entrance/Auction/Other

[sinistral]

Entrance;
Making an appearance at this kind of thing is all but required. Well, maybe not required, but he'd hardly disappoint Padme by not showing. So Bucky's there in a bespoke navy suit, clean shaven and sporting a small lapel pin shaped like his shield. He'd hoped to stroll right inside in the wake of the couple in front of him but a reporter has caught him for questions and pictures, and he hasn't been able to escape yet.

Save him? Ask for a pic with him? Or are you the reporter?


Auction;
Bucky circles the auction hall more as an extra eye on security than anything else; he certainly can't afford (or would be laughingly outbid) on most of what's here. Still he does enjoy looking, mostly because Stark always manages to pull out a few interesting pieces for events like this. Bucky has no idea where he finds them all, but such is the life of a billionaire, apparently. But the auction hall seems quiet, in terms of mischief — until mischief itself finds him, latching onto his arm with surprising strength in aged fingers.

"No, Mrs. Sweeney," he's saying to a society matron who now has a death grip on his arm. "I'm not actually part of the auction, but there are some interesting pieces over here—"

Mrs. Sweeney, of course, would prefer to buy her favorite heroes, not auction memorabilia, and behind her back Bucky sends a pleading look to anyone who looks even minorly willing to rescue him.


Mingling;
[The open-to-suggestions option. Hit me up with an idea and we'll roll with it. If you prefer brackets, go for it and I'll match your format.]

Auction

[no_applause]

Padme spots that call for help from across the room. Excusing herself from her conversation, she makes her way over to the pair. She smiles brilliantly, her dress swishing about her legs as she stops in front of them. "I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Sweeney, but I need to steal the Captain for a moment." She paused, then, tilting her head as if she'd just remembered something. "Hadn't you been saying that you missed the mountains?" Turning, she gestured towards one of the tables, "One of our items is a week long stay at a hot spring in the Rocky Mountains. Why don't you give it a look and see what you think?"

Once the aged socialite had left, Padme turned her smile to Bucky. "You looked like you needed a little help."

Arrival/Dinner/Bar/General milling about (The intern pity invite)

[cardsyouredealt]

Arrival
Stark PR thought having a few of their 'bright young minds' on display would be good PR for the party. Amanda was not entirely sure that was true, she'd never been in a room with so much money in her life. If they hadn't arranged for her to be able to get a dress, jewelry and hair do she was sure she'd have come in clean overalls like some sort of trained monkey.

She knew no one here, so that was good. No one to walk up and ask her just what she thought she was doing here. She stood around the entry for a little while just getting the lay of the land and spotting the likely places to find a seat that wouldn't be running into trouble with people. It wasn't that she wasn't social, in fact she was smiling, she was almost always smiling, it was just that she was far more at home half way inside a engine housing than a gala ball room.

Dinner
No way was she going to miss the food. She was eating cup-o-noodle three times a week because ambition did not, as it turned out, pay the rent. Her only difficulty was mulling over the course selection. They all sounded so mouthwateringly good that she wanted to say one of each please and she'd take them all home.

If her mom and dad could see her now, they'd be so proud. She hoped so anyway. They'd said she'd do something big one day, well here she was at a party she didn't belong at getting great food. That was something. She leaned over to the person next to her and asked in a discrete whisper "What exactly is a 'compote'?"

Bar
"Whiskey. Two...." She look left, then right, then leaned in. "Three fingers." Amanda had made it through half the night so far without putting her foot in her mouth, that was something. And she hadn't spilled anything on her pretty dress all through dinner that was even better.

She almost reached up to run fingers through her hair out of habit but remembered someone had put time into doing that for her and stopped herself short. This whole dressin up thing was not really her usual and it felt awkward, fun maybe but definitely awkward.

She plunked down on a stool at the bar, party etiquette wasn't her forte so if that was bad she didn't really know. What she did know was she had a phone with Battle Barrage on it and she had a good winning streak going in that game so while she had some down time, why not play a few rounds? And if anyone else was a player the auto match system was sure to link them up.

Milling
It felt good to get a little fresh air by the large windows. So many people made a place awful warm and she still had to admit there was something about looking out at the city when the lights starting coming on at night. Something that had always taken her breath away.

It was a hell of a view for anyone who liked that sort of thing.

Dinner

[puddledancer]

"See, I always thought it was what you made from the scraps," P.J. whispered back, equally stymied. "But I think this is a completely different thing."

He waited just long enough to make sure the older gentleman with the bespoke suit and the perfectly-oiled beard - and bald head - was looking in the other direction, then one hand darted out and came back with a dot of compote on the tip of his pinky.

"Kinda jammy," he said at length. "I think it's like ... fancy jam?"

Speech! Also socializing

[no_applause]

Speech

At some point during the evening, Padme took the podium. She looked gorgeous in her gown. She smiled, looking around at everyone. "Thank you all so much for coming. It fills me with such joy to see so many people come out and contribute to such a worthy cause. We've been working with the children's hospital to get their new wing built and supplied with everything they need to help the children of our fine city. With your help, we've not only made enough money to achieve that goal, but we've made enough to help supply a medical facility in a small village ravaged by war and drought."

She paused, looking around. "I'd like to thank all of those who donated items for our auction. All the winners will be notified privately, with one exception. I'm sure many of you are eager to know the winning bidder of the car donated by Tony Stark. I'm pleased to announce that the winner, and our largest donor this evening, is Mr. Din Djarin. Thank you, Mr. Djarin, for your generosity."

"I won't take any more of your time. Please, enjoy yourselves."

Unless anyone stopped her, she She stepped off amidst polite applause.

Socializing

Being the good host and social butterfly that she was, Padme could be found flitting about the party, greeting and chatting with anyone she met. Please, feel free to stop her at any point for any reason.

[puddledancer]

"WOOO!" P.J. called out from his perch near the bar, clapping. "AWRIGHT, DJARIN! GET IT, MAN!"

At least a dozen heads swiveled to look at him with a mixture of shock and disgust.

"I mean, uh. Ahem. Jolly good, fine show? ... I am totally someone's plus-one."

ota

[noch]

ARRIVAL

Merrin had come with Cobb as his plus one—as a reporter. And a daughter. Both, really. She was definitely more of the latter when she helped pick out his red tie earlier, which matches her dress—the only one she has for occasions like this one, and it has already served her well multiple times before.

But right now she's back to the former, steadily typing notes on her phone while she makes her way around the venue, her gaze roaming over every nook, cranny, and guest with eagle-eyed thoroughness. It lingers on anyone especially recognizable—or just anyone who stands out. She's not particularly subtle, either way.

AUCTION

Most of her job taking pictures and notes—what the venue looked like, who showed up, and most importantly, who they were wearing—was done, and now she was left to mingle and rub elbows with some of the city's most powerful and influential people.

Too bad she isn't very good at mingling—kind of a weakness, for a(n aspiring) reporter. Instead, she's snooping around the silent auction, taking some time to examine the items up for bidding and peeking at the names on their lists for purchase. She loiters an especially long time in front of the car, inspecting it from every angle, as if it could somehow tell her the secrets of its former owner.

OUTSIDE

Later on, a little weary of the crush of people inside, she escapes out the back door—just for a little while, to get some fresh air.

Outside doop de doo

[out_of_order]

Feeling very much out of his element, Cal's ducked out to escape the crowds, reset himself, in a way. He's not sure how people can do this all the time. It's overwhelming, a completely different world that he feels he's only playing at, almost certain that whenever someone looks at him too closely they can tell his suit's not a designer brand but it's the best one he's got.

He hadn't expected to find her out here. He'd caught glimpses of her inside, but she'd obviously been busy, and he'd been doing his own observations, trying to prove the press pass he'd been given wouldn't be a waste.

"Merrin, hey."

Lost Intern

[out_of_order]

Afraid of Dinner
When food is plated so delicately and in such cautious portions, it just somehow screams expensive. Of course, given the venue, there's no way it wouldn't be. Cal Kestis does not want to know how much these tiny desserts cost. They are very pretty and beg to be photographed, so that is what he's doing. Maybe he's figured that the food is for important people and not the interns that were lucky enough to score a press pass to dip their toes into an event showcasing the epitome of high society. Or something.

Social...ize?
How does one socialize in a place like this? There's like, two other people he knows around here because they're all from the same paper but otherwise Cal isn't sure how to go about conversing with anyone casually. The most he's been able to say to anyone so far is 'good evening' and 'excuse me.' He's not here to interview anyone, just to get a feel for things and maybe watch how other reporters do things as he takes pictures that, if he's lucky might be considered usable for the digital edition of the event's report that'll go up tomorrow.

Most of the time he just feels like he's trying not to step on the train of someone's dress or simply find a space that's not occupied. At least he's not been ruled as invisible, a server carrying a tray of hors d'oeuvres having been nice enough to stop by and offer him one, although now he's studying it trying to figure out exactly what he's potentially going to be eating.


Auction
That. Is a sweet looking ride and Cal knows he'd never be able to drive, let alone sit in it. But at least he can take pictures. People will definitely want to know what the main course for the auction block was.


Wildcard
((OOC: Anything else you fancy doing? Ping me or just throw a random starter!))

Dinner???

[in_extremis]

There was already dessert plates on several tables by the time Tony arrived, so it seemed to him like he had made excellent time. He swept through the hall with keys still in and and glasses still on his nose as he breezily shook hands with the people that managed to catch his coattails as he went by, surveying the room and scanning the attendance. There weren't too many free seats, of course, Padme had done her job to perfection and had a full house, every plate enough to buy the hospital another MRI machine, he was sure, so when Tony got through the dining room to the slightly less desirable tables closer to the kitchen, he didn't doubt he had just helped himself to someone's place while they went to take a call or find the bathroom.

He was quiet for a moment, because it seemed to be the kid next to him was in the middle of something very serious with the tiny plates arranged before them, slowly plucking up a spoon to twirl restlessly between his fingers. Eventually he had to ask, though, in a low voice, "Is there going to be a test?"

OTA!

[thesepreciousthings]

Arrival
Director Starling showed up in her own car - a deep green Ford Mustang SVT convertible - and slid out from behind the wheel, gold and tiger's eye glistening at her throat and wrists as she handed the keys to the valet. Her sleek, black silk dress was impeccably tailored and cut deep, only a small strip of fabric preventing the low v-cut from shifting to improper positions and causing any wardrobe malfunctions. She'd worn her Louboutins for the occasion, as well, and done her hair up in a loose, retro sort of style. Her personal effects were in a clutch with a clasp that matched her jewelry, and she flashed the paparazzi a curated smile as she moved smoothly for the entrance.

"My God," she said to the first familiar face she found. "Those flashbulbs are about enough to make you go blind."

The Bidding
Clarice was, to some folks' surprise, a frequent visitor to the silent auction table, occasionally updating her bid. She had put her name in on several items, for the sake of the cause - especially knowing a Certain Someone's fondness for it - but there were two she was really chasing.

One was a package for a weekend at one of the city's most prestigious and fancy spas, because a girl could always use a little pampering.

The other? Well. A girl could also really want the hell out of a fancy set of wheels.

Dinner
"Mmm, mm, mm," she said to herself, looking over the menu. "This looks downright decadent." Half of the things she'd never tasted for herself before, and she leaned over to ask someone at her table. "Excuse me, but have you ever had --"

She froze, mid-question, as another flash of odd memories went through her mind: her own voice, reading aloud, in a dark basement surrounded by files and the glow of a single computer monitor, to a man in a suit that she did not recognize.

"From the Iron Gate in New York, he ordered Grade A foie gras at two hundred dollars a kilo, and through the Grand Central Oyster Bar he got green oysters from the Gironde. The meal for the Philharmonic board began with these oysters, followed by sweetbreads, a sorbet, and then, you can read here in Town & Country what they had: a notable dark and glossy ragout, the constituents never determined, on saffron rice. Its taste was darkly thrilling with great bass tones that only the vast and careful reduction of the fond can give."

She came back to herself, and cleared her throat, trying to shake the latest in a string of strange imaginings from over the last couple of weeks. "--foie gras...?"

The Bar
Between all the altercations that had been happening, the managing of messes behind the scenes, and this strange nonsense of memory flashes she didn't recognize, it had been a very long week. Starling bellied up to the bar and slid a twenty across the marble top, meaning for the bartender to keep whatever was left after the cost of the drink.

"Glass of Chateau d'Yquem," she said, trying to hold on to her grace but still sounding just a little tired.

Wildcard/Mingle
((Whatever you like!))

The...bar?

[in_extremis]

It was not a good time to be tired, and the messes were not about to stop just because everyone had their good shoes on. While Tony had privately promised not to be the one causing them for Clarice for at least a little while, until she was ready to lock horns with him again, it was, unfortunately, Tony that was swooping in to intercept Clarice at the bar. He did so with a very casual saunter and blithe smile that was obviously tight and fake as he bared his teeth to mutter, "Problem," and took her elbow to lead her back the other way, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder. They didn't get very far at all before Tony's focus on this very serious issue was fractured enough for him to murmur, "Christ, you smell good," but he didn't slow at all until he had them at an apparently safe distance and was bracketing Clarice against a corner where his gaze could dart from her to back the way they had come.

Laaaaate but OTA

[hadthehighground]

Big fancy events were not something that Ben Bridger was unfamiliar with. Having a press pass could get you into a lot of things. So while Ezra was supposed to be at home doing homework, he was here, having accompanied Cobb to take pictures.

He made sure to look his best of course. Hair trimmed and neatly style, face freshly shaved and wearing a nice flattering suit, Ben blended in. His press tag and the camera looped around his neck gave him away though.

He could be found milling through the crowd. Taking snapshots of the glittering celebrities and the wealthy. His path eventually taking him to the car that was on display. A low whistle of appreciation coming from him as he took pictures of the vehicle worth more than his house several times over.

There was a lot to see and admire, but Ben never was the envious sort. He would never be able to afford any of the things on auction, and he was fine with that. Being a spectator with a camera was enough for him.

[no_applause]

Padme had, of course, noticed Ben milling about the party. She was keeping an eye on everyone and everything and that included watching out for the press. She'd met him a few times and rescued him once or twice as the Queen of Thunder. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she felt oddly drawn to him.

Once she had a moment to get away, she found him in the crowd and approached with a smile. "Are you enjoying yourself?"