ArchivedLogs:Women and the Hearts of Men

Women and the Hearts of Men
Dramatis Personae Emma, Lourdes, Pepe
In Absentia	2013-04-26 '
Location <NYC> Upper East Side
One of the most affluent neighborhoods in Manhattan, the Upper East Side is home to the rich and... rich. Swanky apartments, upscale shopping, posh restaurants, this is the place to go if you have money and need somewhere to spend it. Well, one of the places to go. New York does not really have a shortage of them. Emma is leaving the office at what some might consider a late hour, but given her last month, the fact that she is leaving the office is remarkable. She's pulling a white, light weight scarf around her neck and tucking it into the folds of her white trench coat. She uses one of the loops of said scarf to keep her hair down in the face of the wind. Hands slide into gloves as she keeps her messenger bag under one arm. When she's a little more warm, she pulls the messenger bag strap over her head and secures it against her chest and starts walking. She is pretty confident in the high heel, designer shoes she is wearing, and does not seem much bothered by the idea of a walk, a nearby cab ignored. This is a neighborhood fully accustomed to the sweep of fine cars, and few are as fine or sweeping as the viciously sleek black limousine subject to the whim of one Lourdes Chantel, wife of Sebastian Shaw and in no particular hurry to be on her way. She leans against the side of the passenger door, the chauffeur waiting patiently alongside with an iron grip that keeps the door from /slamming/ shut in the wind, and finishes a burning cigarette at the far end of a long silver cigarette holder. Her dress is black, low cut but mitigated with black lace that rises to her throat and drizzles down in long sleeves that end in V-points on the back of either hand. Large shimmery gold earrings rock along either side of her jaw, long red nails, red lips, red heels, and her black hair is /thrashing/ in wild inky tendrils with each gust. Her mind is a rather rueful surface-air of wondering what weather is like back in Barcelona, and amusement that not even money can buy favor from Mother Nature - ah! A little warmer sparkle comes with recognition, "/Emma Frost/." Her spanish accent isn't thick, but it does not try terribly hard to Americanize itself, closing one eye when her hair flaps into the side of her face, "They keep you working late." "Oh, well, that's the life of an event coordinator. Sometimes, they have events late at night," Emma pauses near the limo, looking Lourdes and her chauffeur. "Sometimes, they need me to oversee the rebuilding of the ballroom." It only takes her a moment before she links the face with a name from the list of attendees at the gala. "You're Lourdes Chantel, yes? I wanted to apologize for the mess caused that night and hope that you were unharmed." Even once her hair whips free from her brow, Lourdes takes her time reopening her eye a lazy inverted wink, "You're kind. I am unharmed. My 'Basti sprung to my defense at just the cost of his suit. But." She fits the stem of her cigarette holder into her smiling lips, inhales and tips her head to the side to let the breeze ravel off with her smoke when she exhales, "I had been trying to be rid of that suit since he bought it. So I should thank you." It's essentially untrue; she has no opinion on the garment, but there is a very clear /something/ amused by the memory, leaving little doubt that it did not, at least, leave any concerning injuries. - Even if the memory of the night as a whole carries an unease common enough amongst the party guests. But she's not the daughter of an /aggressive/ wealth by being a dweller. She's a doer, and asks suddenly, "Let me take you out. Basti is being /kept/ tonight and I would dearly love the company of another woman." Not said: Another woman of /taste/. "Out?" Emma considers, looking over the driver and the woman for a moment. She's not reading anything overtly dangerous and it doesn't hurt to rub elbows with the members. "Okay. Sure. That sounds lovely." She smiles a little brighter, slightly unplanned and off kilter for only a second or two. "I am very glad that that little explosion has had a pleasant benefit or two. I would love to pick your brain about a little fundraiser around the club to cover some of the costs?" There's no threat in either mind; neither even possess the hard assessing scans of people much concerned with the more dangerous side of big business - the driver, granted, is making a professional note that the plans for the day seem to be changing, but Lourdes is by far the more entertaining half of House Shaw - and her mind is pure spiced impulsive adventure behind her composed smile. When Emma studies him, Lourdes introduces, "This is William - William? Emma Frost. - Looking /stunning/ in white, as ever. I could never pull that off." The driver grins behind his hand, which he lifts to tip his hat in a nod. Lourdes plucks her cigarette from the holder, crushes it out professionally on the bottom of her heel and hands it to William to throw away in the little trash bin in the front. Then? Well, she hops on in into the back with an inherent energy that, while being a woman nearing the end of her prime, suggests she keeps herself up quite /vigorously/. "Oh, /fund raisers/. Emma, you fiend, you’ve just gotten /off/ work." It's not a chide - it's a playful mock-scandalized jab, her mind open and working with an undertone of more prudent-practical thoughts: Hmm. Sebastian /had/ been thinking of donating to the Club, it was a perfect opportunity to catch its attention. Why not, a nice chat about money always went so much better over drinks, maybe they should get their nails done, there is something so deliciously /challenging/ about carrying on conversation while your hands are forced to hold perfectly still. "It may surprise you to know that I very rarely stop working," Emma replies with a small smile, sliding into the seat beside Lourdes. "I take Sundays off, when I can, but as today is not Sunday, all of my gears are simply spinning." She pulls her case onto her lap and offers a little bit of a bashful smile at the older woman. "I hope you don't mind. I could actually refrain from talking business - for your sake." She takes a moment to look her over before settling her gaze on Lourdes' face. "You look amazing in black. It suits you well." Lourdes shoves her mass of dark wavy locks behind a shoulder, all of it lumping up on one side in a very 80's 'big hair' look. Her painted lips fall open in a yawn, "Thank you, dear. It's become a second nature. I tease, let's talk business. I was the daughter of a businessman long before I became the wife of one. Do you know," her eyes /dazzle/, "I refused Sebastian the first time he asked me to marry him? 'My dear,' I told him, 'You could be much greater. And I will meet you there at the top.' And five years later, when he made his first billion, we wed." She reaches over and hands her purse to... a robot. No. Really. There is a robot sitting in the car, silently waiting, wearing a Chanel sports jacket, a white scarf wrapped around its neck and a houndstooth floppy cabbie hat, looking absurdly like an /aviator/. "This is Pepe," Lourdes says with an absent wave in his direction, "A gift to my husband by the Latverian King. Were you able to get a moment to visit his expo this month?" "I did... not." Emma scoots over to take a look at this aviator robot, fingers moving ever so slightly against the surface of the seat cushion, appearing as though she wishes to touch it, to really get at it. "Fascinating." She corrects herself a moment later, leaning back into the embrace of the fine upholstery and smiling to Lourdes. "Really? You refused him? I have seen a little bit of him and find him - well, shall we say charismatic. I find any lesser woman would have taken him with just his potential." She nods to Lourdes, acknowledging her savvy. "But you probably already knew you had him, right? Or did you enjoy the gamble?" Again, Emma shifts position. "I am sorry. You said business." She glances back at Pepe and studying him again. "As I said before, it will take a great deal to restore the ballroom to its former glory, or a more elegant state, and the club would rather not expend the millions necessary to do so if it doesn't have to. I am working right now to restore it to a more secure and safe place to be, then I would like to throw a ball. Something divine and beautiful to highlight the building and its bones, and encourage attendees to donate generously to see it transform ... well, the current theme is that of a modern day fairytale. It could even be a costume ball - as October is far enough away that it shouldn't conflict with the annual Halloween Ball." She pauses her pitch to study the other woman. "Perhaps even a spring rite of passage." "Oh, it was no gamble," Lourdes chuckles; her voice is deep for a woman, breathy and wistful for a moment. The limousine interior is big enough that there are two rows of seats facing one another, and she expands, propping up her feet on the seat across from herself, leaning back with her hands loosely lapped over her abdomen, "If he could not meet my standards before I married him, I could not count on him to live up to me /after/. I like to see a man willing to rise to a challenge. Especially if that challenge is /me/. But enough of that. What of you? Are you a Frost of the Winston Frost family?" In her mind is the steady-maintained roster of the affluent; the Chantel family is not American, however, and her knowledge of full New York families is limited often to names and figures, bullet-point business facts. "A fairytale spring!" She adds with simple unadulterated delight, already considering what she might dress up... Pepe in. A crown of flowers, hmmm, a toga perhaps. He was so /drab/. "Well. This is purely between us, but my husband has been considering already making a generous donation to the club to aid in their repairs - he is an engineer, you know, and has been bidding to be involved in the construction. If you would like a partner, I would be glad to help. It sounds lovely." Also lovely is the thought of who she might invite; Lourdes's connections are quite vast. It pools with the glint of old money. Ah. Emma's family. "I was born that, yes, but no longer have influence in the family. Befriending me will do nothing to affect Winston's heart." There's a small bite to Emma's well rehearsed words, that shows practice has polished politeness into them and taken heat out. She turns her attention to Pepe again as the distraction is welcome. When the topic changes, Emma relaxes once more against the soft cushions. "Actually, I would love a partner. It seems since the Oscorp Gala, most of my job has been keeping certain personalities happy. I'm sure if I explained that no one can account for random acts of terrorism, they'd dismiss my responsibility, but this is also an opportunity to take what I have and really shine -- so I am loath to appear like I am giving up in any regard. A fresh perspective could be just what this events needs." << Ah. >> Lourde's smile is outwardly enigmatic, considering Emma. Her mind, however, is unprotected, cunning-sharp and yet warm, << Another one willing to /work/, then. Hmm mm. I like that. >> "It is good then," she says, flippantly brushing off a bit of non-existent lint from Pepe's forearm, "that I am unconcerned with the hearts of men. I have two hours before I'm to meet my husband at Jean Georges - we set a reservation /two months/ in advance. Why don't," the limousine begins to ride, Lourdes uses her toes to peel off her shoes, "you and I take this time to come up with a plan. And then we'll see if he won't ask for a third person to join us. And we can see what he thinks. Their food has been described as /acrobatic/." Emma chuckles a little as Lourdes peels off her shoes and really gets comfortable. She is still a little chilled so refrains from doing the same. She instead lounges in her posture, taking up quite a bit of couch cushion as she gets comfortable, one arm around the back of the chair, her head leaning against the knuckles of that hand. "That sounds wonderful." Whether Emma is speaking of the food, the company, or the tidbit of approval that popped into Lourdes' thoughts, it's impossible to say, as for Emma, all three are appropriate right now.