Talk:2014.02.23 - Never Trust a Guy with Glasses

Well, since Phan was like... out cold. You know, life one eyelid, it reads: OUT, the other reads: COLD.. Heather was getting hungry. She had brought a few snacks with her but... not enough. So she hatched a clever plan. From that run down old theater in Gotham, she bundled up the sleeping Phan and carried her to the car. The new Heathermobile had been christened since the last one was crushed by those giant robots. She pulled into the underground parking at The Dorilton and slipped into her slot, stepping out and carrying the sleeping Phant up in the elevator to the top floor. She got off and walked down the hallway, passing Warren's door and turning into her own. So when Phantasma wakes up, it'll be in Heather's plush, pillow top, King sized bed, with clean clothes and a bubble bath waiting. But this also means that Heather has the chance to -really- eat a meal, and maybe do some DDR!

For a girl who really doesn't sleep very much, Phantasma is certainly out for ages! It will have been afew hours since she'd been brought sleeping up and laid down in an actual bed. Certainly not something she's been in for years!

So she wakes up, hours later, sore and bruised all over, but at least she wasn't cold anymore... Wait... suddenly she snapped awake. She.. wasn't.. cold? Throwing off the blankets and not even noticing where she was anymore, she quickly climbs out of the bed, and finds this a shockingly difficult prospect! Her hands keep sinking into the plush mattress beneath! When finally she does manage to get out of bed its face first towards the floor!

There is no crash though. No instead she falls straight through the floor, her intangibility kicking in naturally. Heather above would hear a muffled shriek from the floor beneath, a manlier yell, and then Phantasma would suddenly burst out of the floor in front of her in a cheer "WOO! I've got my powers back!" Unfortunately, she chose to rise back up into your apartment in the kitchen, and more specifically, your rather massive refrigerator. The next time you go to open the fridge door, she'll be standing there holding a bottle of Pepsi, and literally HUGTACKLE you in glee "I'VE! ~ouch~ GOT MY POWERS BACK!"

Tie or no tie?

This seems to be the question that is most on a certain gentleman's mind. Standing in a hallway, the man looks at himself in a mirror. First with the tie held in front of his shirt, then with it held away. The results seem inconclusive, and for a few nail-biting seconds it looks like it could go either way. The tie says 'I can be trusted,' but no tie says 'I like to be formal, but I'm here to party.' Ultimately, he opts to fold the clip-on up and slip it in his jacket's inside pocket. One button is unfastened, then a second one.

Everything else seems to meet his approval. Hair combed, but not too combed. A pair of fashion-forward glasses perched on his nose, and nice (but not TOO nice) brown suit. Apparently he's going for 'slightly scruffy librarian.'

"Okay, c'est parfait... show time."

The man makes his way down the hallway, checking off the numbers as he does so. Finally, he pauses in front of his mark.

A few sharp, but not harsh, knocks resound from the door.

Heather has the bathtub ready, all but the water of course, expensive bath salts and bubble bath at the ready. The best shampoo and conditioner money can buy. But she is constantly snacking, and it was time for a Dagwood Bumstead sammich, so of course.. she needed meat from the fridge, and three kinds of cheese, and mustard, pickles... she opens the door and *MRF!* Hugtackled. She stumbles back into the countertop behind her and laughs, "I see that." she adds with a giggle... just as the knock is heard. "So.. there's a luxurious bubble bath waiting for you if you want." she tells Phan as she literally carries the girl in her arms towards the door. But once there, she gently sets the girl down. "One sec!" she calls out as she grins to Phan, "I bet it's a delivery or some such." She mutters to her friend/sis, before reaching to open the door. Of course, she's dressed in like... house sweats, not for the streets, "Can I help you?" she asks.

Phantasma smirks a little and has already ghosted through Heather by the time she was halfway to the door with a gentle push on the girls shoulders. Weightless and twirling happily, she stops with her feet on the ceiling to do a last pirouette. The mention of a bubble bath get her brow up, and she turns to walk down towards the bathroom, which she thinks is... that away?

"I think I can manage a bath" She says far more cheerfully than usual, and waves as she heads down the nearby hall. The person at the door might barely catch a glimpse of.. someone walking on the ceiling? Phan was out of sight before the door was even fully open, just brief enough to be passed off as a trick of the eyes.

The door opens upon a man who looks almost completely harmless. Or at least it opens upon a man who is doing his best impersonation of a man who looks almost completely harmless. With one hand leaning against the door frame and a broad smile on his face, surely he couldn't be planning anything shady, could he?

His words pour out in an accent that only an aficionado would probably be able to place accurately, but it's clear that he's attempting to really sell the French influence behind his pronunciation. "Hello there. Sorry to interrupt you in the middle of... laundry day." He gives a quick up and down glance, trying to keep his gaze from drifting toward the penthouse's interior and the various shinies located within. "I'm staying with my friend down the hall there..." He points to his left "... and he left while I was down at the store. I was wondering if I could use your phone to give him a call before he gets too far away?"

Raising a brow. Heather nods slowly. "Sure. You're a friend of Warren's?" she asks as she steps back and gestures for Remy to come on in. "I'm Heather. Nice t'meetcha." she adds in her mild midwestern accent. She's already turning her back to trot over towards the sofa and calls out, "Take your time Phan!" Okay, so she's not alone. But she also was like... throwing manhole covers like they were frisbees the other day. Anyhow, she reaches the sofa and grabs her phone, turning to toss it Gambit's way. "Here you go." She says. It is the latest model starkphone with a helluva Otterbox case. So she's not worried about him missing the catch. She just stands there, leaning against the back of the sofa as she crosses her arms over her abs. "Actually, it's not laundry day, I was just workin' out." she adds. "So, you got a name? Or should I just call you... Warren's Friend?"

She has to walk through a few walls, but none near the livingroom just yet, before she finds it. Out in the main room, Both Remy and Heather would hear her shout, muffled as it was down the hall "~Holy.. I've seen fewer bottles in bars!~" Now whats a girl her age doing in bars?!

She gets the bath water running for now, closing and locking the bathroom door. Towel.. towel.. bathrobe.. and everything is so... so... fluffy! Almost suspicious of eyes on her the ghost girl takes a suspicious eye around the room, peeks THROUGH the mirror (never know where those one way mirrors are!) and finally gives the super fluffy towel a hug and nuzzle! Nobody must know of her little girly side... noooo ooooone.

though... how close an eye does Gambit keep on his own pockets? *halo*

Dammit. Why does she have to be sociable enough to know her neighbors' names? But fortunately for Gambit, this isn't the first time he's told a fib. "Oh, you know him? Great guy, huh? Kind of surprised you weren't at his little get together last night... No big deal, really. Just a couple of old college buddies." He might not even have a GED, but right now he's actually believable as someone who went to college and got an actual job of some kind. It's amazing what leaving the trenchcoat behind will do for a person's image.

He taps away at the phone, but can't exactly call the contact listed as 'Warren.' But his story will fall apart if he doesn't. "Think I'll call his maid, actually. I think she's scheduled to come in today anyway." Random New York number is tapped into the screen. "Hey there... it's Fergus. Right, Warren's friend from college. You don't think you could come in a bit early today, do you? Like... right now? Merveilleux! See you in a bit."

Click.

"Well, that was easy." Rather than tossing the phone back, he walks it over to his gracious (and seemingly duped) mark. Summoning up all of his Cajun charm (and taking great pains not to look at anything in the penthouse) he offers a "Merci. You're a life-saver. I would have waited outside for him to get back, but one of my legs is tired."

"If you want a drink... I can grab you a soda or something." offers Heather. She was watching. She wasn't exactly... suspicious. But there was that little tingle in the back of her mind, the hair on the back of her neck standing up on end. Of course, when she heard Phan's shriek, that kinda went away, distracted by her big sis pride and all. She saunters forward and reaches to open the fridge. "Warren hasn't mentioned you, but then again, I really barely see'im. He was at my housewarming a while back, and then I think I passed him in the hallway two or three times." she shrugs and looks back over her shoulder as she's bent over to reach into the fridge. "I don't have anything diet, I hope Pepsi works, unless you'd prefer a bottle of water or some such."

Desperate attempts not to look at anything in the appartment likely means Remy misses a blonde head peeking into the room THROUGH the TV cabinet. Wrapped up in a super tight mega fluffy oversized bathrobe or not... she's completely invisible as she walks through the wall and makes her way over to the kitchen.

Speaking of odd tingles... As heather opens the fridge, she'd feel a sudden sharp CHILL through her body, about the size of Phan's arm, then torso. She hears a whisper of 'Don't mind if I do', and a pepsi bottle slowly vanishes from the fridge. Unable to hold back a giggle, the invisible ghost girl makes her way back towards the bathroom.

On her way past, Remy would hear an odd, quiet, muttered chant pass JUST behind him. It sounds remarkably like 'He's Heather's friend...' over and over, chanted as a mantra of willpower.

"I get the sneaking suspicion that you're not an RC Cola person... so... surprise me?" RC Cola, the favorite soft drink of elderly southern men and mutant poker cheaters. He seems to know better than to also push for a Moon Pie. But he's thinking it.

"Let me guess, he doesn't ever wear the sweater I knitted for him either, does he? Some people are just ungrateful." His smile is only slightly crooked. Fortunately, the glare on the glasses tends to divert attention away from certain other facial attributes he has that scream 'untrustworthy.' Not the least of which include his solid black eyeballs.

Suddenly, 'Fergus' whips around, looking this way and that. "Are you here by yourself?"

It's only after he says it that he realizes it's kind of a creepy thing to ask a woman you just met.

"Actually no, I have a friend who's taking a bath right now. Or at least she -should- be." mtuters Heather as she looks around slowly. Yeah, she heard the soft murmur. "And who should totally -not- be harassing my guests.... not one little bit." she adds as she steps over and offers a bottle of Wild Cherry Pepsi to Gambit. She herself goes back to building her triple decker sandwich. "How long are you going to be waiting... Fergus was it?" she asks as she layers on meat, cheese, more meat, pickles, more cheese...

By the time she comes up proper in conversation, she's already gone through a wall and is separate from the goings on in the living room. Bottle of pop in hand, she shrugs off the bathrobe and slips into the tub. As always happens with her and water, she actually floats... rather increadibly well.

The tub is only filled half way and she's more or less lounging on a cloud of bubbly suds at this point. What parts of the tub weren't full of water were absolutely overflowing with bubbles, just enough to keep that pg-13 rating alive!

"Ah... thought I heard something." Gambit doesn't look completely reassured, but the explanation has at least kept him from continuing to look around suspiciously. "I probably shouldn't stay long. You're probably heading out soon, I'd imagine?"

He pops the top of his Pepsi, and takes a hearty sip. However, as he tilts his head back, he watches his host/mark curiously over the bottle. As the bottle is lowered, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Well, I guess that proves me wrong."

"I figured you'd be a vegan."

"Heh, no, I love me some meat." remarks Heather. She has a three inch thick sandwich, not counting bread... and she places a slice of soft rye atop the pile. "I know, don't get me started. But I love to eat." And she lifts the sandwich, taking a bite and chewing like she just tried ambrosia. She swallows that bite and then chuckles, "I apologize. I should've asked if you were hungry. Can I get you anything?" she asks. Yeah, she has that midwestern friendly outgoing, super-perky happiness thing DOWN. Plus, hospitality. Daddy taught her to be a good hostess. But she gestures to the fridge, and opens it up to reveal like.. enough food to feed Etheopia... for a while.

Not used to baths, or taking much time solid at all really, means the ghost girl is none to thrilled about being solid for very long... especially with bruises and scrapes covering most of her body. She kept wincing as she lathered herself up, and was rather quick to try and float downwards, fighting the buyancy to rinse off.

What little time she did have to herself though, she was thinking about the events of the other night... that drug... and how she felt.. now. She felt different thats for sure... but.. she could pretty much do all the same stuff.

Having spent most of the day walking around, Gambit could absolutely use some food. However, his instincts tell him to refuse. So he follows his gut, rather than his stomach. "Oh, I hate to say no, but I'm doing the five meals a day diet. I can't eat again for another..." He takes a quick look at his watch. "... hour and a half." Apparently, a sugar-filled Pepsi doesn't count against his meal plan, because he doesn't seem to be slowing down there. It's nearly empty. "The things we do for beauty, eh?"

"Only five?" asks Heather. She smirks and shakes her head. "So.. Fergus, you went to college with Warren?" she asks as she picks up her plate and heads for the sofa once more. "What was he like there?" she asks as she sits down and pats the spot beside her invitingly. She does love being social after all.

Maybe five minutes in, and Phantasma was already pulling on her old clothes... er... the clothes she fell.. asleep.. in.. no. These were.. they fit? Thats... odd on a few levels actually. With a shrug, she slips into a full length purple skirt and tugged on a black blouse, pausing before grabbing her ever cherished Frankenbunny bear. A black rose hair clip and her purple gem choker later, she pauses only to pose and glance in the mirror.

Unable to resist playing, she smirks as she spots the 'guest' down the hall and makes sure to stay invisible for now. Drifting silently towards the living room, she positions herself right behind him. One hand behind her back, the other holding the bottle of po... er.. 'soda' she swiped earlier, there's a mischevious smile on her face as she ever so slowly fades back into view, out of sight of the cute guy. Waiting for a pause in the conversation, she says rather suddenly in her naturally soft voice "Who's Warren? Is he cute?"

Unfortunately, the ghastly gal decides to speak up right when Gambit is polishing off the remainder of his Pepsi. He starts, begins to choke, but manages to cover it up as a cough, mostly.

The sudden appearance of the girl all but propels him toward the offered seat, and it's only with a great amount of self control that he's able to descend in a semi-graceful manner.

"Typical. Here I am with two girls and both of them just want to talk about Warren. I'll content myself by imagining that wherever he is, the girls there are asking about me."

"Okay fine then." offers Heather as she recovers from her own surprise at Phantasma's entrance. She smirks though at the sputtered reaction and takes a bite of her sandwich. "Tell me about yourself then. Where -was- this school? What did you study? I bet you had all the sorority girls chasin' you." Heather shakes her head. "Never started college myself, was way too busy after high school." Nevermind the fact that she's like... 23 now, and would've barely finished if she'd even gone. But she -looks- like she's 19-20

Phantasma meanwhile manages to look like she should be in high school! Being a little on the.. erm.. flat side and really narrow bodied makes her look a year or two younger than she actually was, which never helped much. Of course, she was usually also in dirty, shabby clothes, not the pressed and clean garments she was in now.

Listening to Heather start, and glancing up and down Remy's outfit, she gets a little smirk. Remy would likely know both that scanning look and smirk to well. He'd trained himself to hide them both... a street rat sizing up a mark.

Waving her hand at heather a little she suddenly sounds quite interested, almost skipping over and giggling "Ooooh! I wanna know more in the now. What do ya do? I bet you're a big important business guy aren'tcha? Probably just back from some big huge economy shattering business deal!"

"Ha. I never actually finished college, I spent a bit too much time pursuing extra-curricular activities. And now... well... I mostly just spend my grandfather's money." The empty bottle is set on the endtable closest to him (on a coaster, obviously). Having discarded it, he makes himself a bit more comfortable on the couch. He even does the 'folding one leg over the other' thing, exposing his cashmere socks. Because the details are important when you're trying to sell a story. The entire outfit will almost certainly end up in a dumpster by the end of the day.

"Grandfather is the 'important business guy' in the family. He's almost certainly in a meeting as we speak. I technically work for his company, but everyone seems to be more happy when I'm out and about visiting old fraternity brothers."

Gambit is used to being stared at, but not usually by people who think he has money. He seems to be having fun playing the part of the good for nothing trust fund kid.

"Ah." remarks Heather, her own interest starting to wane a bit. She was hoping for something. Anything more interesting than this. Her trouble senses are suppressed by her amusement and almost... frustrated disbelief at Phantasma's enthusiastic playacting there. She takes a bite of her sandwich and then a sip of her own soda to wash it down before adding, "Business guy eh? Anything I'd know about?" She's always looking for companies who need spokespersons. After all, more work is good.

The pale girl keeps her eye on Remy as she turns to head in to the kitchen. With her back turned, he might catch the beginnings of that stern, willpower chant of 'He's a guest... he's a guest...' again, making her way back into the kitchen. Food! Food would distract her from... likely full pockets... he sounded loaded though. Trying to pretend she was indecisive at the fridge, she calls over "You.. uh.. Come around often?" Maybe she could stalk him another time... get lucky when big sis wasn't watching.

"A bunch of muckity mucks, mostly. Corporate types, you know how they are." And the vagaries keep coming.

"Yeah, I told your... friend..." Gambit is apparently unsure what exactly the deal is with these two and picking the most generalized term he can think of. "... here that I'm staying here this week. I should probably actually go see if the maid is here yet to let me in. I feel naked without my phone."

As the man stands up to leave, he rebuttons his brown blazer, fiddling with the buttons for perhaps a second longer than he needs to. "If you're interested, I can make sure you guys both get an invitation to Warren's thing. I'll even tell him to make the invitations. He's a bit of a calligraphy enthusiast. Will either of you be around from... say... seven to midnight on Saturday?"

"Difficult to say really. I'm in and out all the time. My schedule is so unpredictable." says Heather with a roll of her eyes. She's serious too. "What with the Titans calling all the time. My agent wanting me in like Milan with about six hours notice, and Victoria's Secret needing me for a new commercial, but not telling me -when- we're shooting yet... I have no idea -where- I might be but please. If he delivers an invite, I'll do my best to figure out a way to at least make an appearance."

She was still eyeing business Remy over her shoulder in a poor attempt at hiding exactly that, fumbling in the fridge. "I.. uh.. Sure! Thing. Thing is nice." That sounds like it has alot of people.. and it sort of comes out in the slightest of shakes in her voice. "Just let Heather know and It'll get around to me."

"Cool. Well, thanks again. You've been a big help." Sort of true.

"You guys know where to find me." Blatant lie.

"I'd better get ready for the stupid phone conference with Tokyo." Blatanter lie.

'Fergus' strolls to the door, and with one final wave/smile combo, lets himself out and into the hallway. From there, he does a ridiculously fast ninja vanish and emerges back on the street heading to the nearest dive bar.