[ generally, effie dresses like any scruffy college student — oversized sweaters that occasionally disguise the fact that she is actually wearing shorts underneath and a pair of keds from the children's shoe department, but when it comes to her family's annual donations she's forced to delve into the closet at her father's estate and find a pair of shoes that aren't trainers.
she dresses up nicely, choosing a dress that means she can't wear all the diamonds her father instead draped his "friend" in. effie couldn't avoid all the jewelry, she let him clasp a bracelet of pink diamonds around her wrist. she looks exactly as rich as she really is, honestly, and she's even taller thanks to the towering heels that click across the wood floors as she tries to avoid being pulled into conversation with some old bloke who wants to be in her father's good graces, making a beeline for the only person she recognizes and also tolerates.
her fingers curl around his elbow, smiling serenely at the people he is chatting with. ]
Mr Rook, hello. Would you mind if I borrowed you for a moment?
[ she even sounds posh, the kind of generic english movie posh which is a far cry from her deep london accent. ]
[ barty's been to enough galas and fundraisers that they all sort of blend together. rub elbows with a few high rollers, check in with a former client or two, huddle with his colleagues to talk shit on people they don't like - it's a practiced dance. he doesn't much care for whoever this is honor of, some billionaire who wants his ass pat. for people who know about bartholomew rook's extracurriculars, he's well-regarded. for anyone else, he's a professor of archeology, easily able to acknowledge and ignore.
he's definitely not as well-off or as polished as effie is, but barty knows how to clean up well enough: dry-cleaned suit, shoes with minimal marks on them, scruff tidied up so that it looks like an actual choice, and not just that he was lazy about shaving. he's listening to a story about some new discovery in mozambique, champagne flute in hand, when he feels the hand on his arm and the warm presence next to him.
to his credit, he doesn't double take too obviously when he realizes who's speaking. ] Sure. [ an apologetic smile towards the small circle, and he murmurs into effie's ear as he's led away. ]
[ she leads him off away from the party, hand slipping from his elbow to slide down to his wrist, fingers brushing his before she lets go entirely. she's leading them toward the sections that have been blocked off, but that doesn't seem likely to stop her. ]
My name's on the bloody sign, innit? [ ah there is effie. underneath all the glamour she is still just her usual trash self, dressed up pretty and voice low. ] Did you really not notice?
[ in his defence, the wing has been re-christened in the name of evangeline van horn grey and effie doesn't use her full given name or her father's name in general, definitely not in school, so if he simply missed it she wouldn't be shocked. most people don't even consider effie to be short for evangeline — because it's not, effie comes from a three year old struggling to pronounce evie. ]
Or did you get so many invites to posh galas you don't even read 'em anymore?
[ there we go. for a moment, barty thought he was having an out-of-body experience, or had stumbled into some alternate universe where effie wasn’t a brat. but no - put her in a nice dress with nicer heels, and effie is still effie. (though really, it’s not like he’s one to talk).
barty’s been through the private wings and back rooms of the museums more time than he can count, he doesn’t hesitate before following her. when he pauses in a doorway, it’s not out of nerves or anxiety, but sheer disbelief at what she’s said. ] I’m sorry, it’s what?
[ one gala leads to another leads to yet another and no, he really doesn’t look at the invites all that closely. almost belatedly, he steps through the doorway and out of the main foyer of the museum. ]
Since my father made a substantial donation. [ her eyes roll, hand flinging out into the air in a dismissive gesture. ] Because he cares about culture.
[ the words drip with sarcasm, her dad doesn't care about shit but tax write offs and oh boy this is a big one. she can't really tell if barty is shocked because of the amount of money involved, these things don't happen with a $20 donation after all, or at her full name or that she isn't a broke university student. maybe all three, she isn't going to stop him from processing it all, looking up at him with a placid expression.
looking up at him because even with towering heels she is still tiny. ]
[ it's not that kate's not used to teaming up — hello, young avengers, also everything with clinton francis — but doing so with a civilian is pretty rare... and also probably incredibly ill-advised. but a job is a job and barty seems more than capable. besides, with any luck it will be a simple op — a grab and go with plenty of time left for a celebratory glass of champagne on the way out.
of course part of the job requires a bit of playing along. to blend in with the throng of donors and museum dignitaries, smiling and laughing and whatever else it is rich people and people who want their money do.
kate rarely leaves barty's side, playing up the wide-eyed graduate simply glad to be there to a t. given this is barty's home court, she graciously takes her cues from him, letting him glide them along the floor to greet and mingle with so-and-so as he must. during a brief reprieve between elbow-rubbing, kate finally gets to unhinge her jaw from all that stepford smiling and relax a little. ]
Good decision on the dessert, by the way. That cheesecake was disappointing.
[ he hadn’t lied to her earlier - this isn’t the first time that he’s lifted something from a museum. while all of barty’s teachings and most of his findings are above board, there’s a handful of times where he’s skirted the law. he’s played his own role well: didn’t tense when security patted him down, shot them a reproachful look before they could do the same to kate, smiled and waved at all the right people.
after dinner (two chicken orders), and her dessert, they start the rounds. barty’s never been a fan of the hobnobbing and asskissing, and it gnaws at him when he’s good at it, but he’s long since been able to fall into the usual pattern of flattery, handshaking, and back-slapping. when kate starts to relax, he laughs. ]
Doesn’t surprise me, mass produced dessert can only be so good. Used to never turn it down, though.
[ cavities stopped that, a while back. he glances over to her - eyes up, rook. ] Usual security. Doom hasn't shown.
[ not even sip of champagne kate had partaken in immediately after did anything to abate the lingering taste of artificial sugar in her mouth. alas, these are the beds we make, and thus resign ourselves to lie in.
she reaches over and gives barty's stomach a friendly little pat, her smile sweet. ]
I can give you my exercise regimen if you ever want to go back to indulging. You're fine with pilates and chasing street criminals, right?
[ with her hand still along his torso she gently maneuvers them closer to the walls, weaving past chatty donors. she doesn't have to lower her voice nearly as much once they're a bit more tucked away. this also gives them a view to the doors that'll ultimately lead them to the mask. ]
Yeah it felt like there was a significant lack of evil dictator energy in the room.
[ she shifts to stand in front of barty, pretending to adjust his tie. ]
What do you think? Now seems as good a time as any.
[ it gets a good-natured laugh and an eyeroll - gentle teasing, a familiar sort of back-and-forth. helpful to poke and prod before starting a job, ease the tension. ] I appreciate the offer, but I won’t break for crappy cheesecake.
[ good dessert, though - well, he hasn’t exactly given that up for good. just most of the time.
bishop’s good at playing the part, he’ll give her that. the glances their way (mixture of envious and disapproving), how she’s been able to effortlessly slip between public-facing laughter and a dry, quiet amusement - it’s worked well. and he doesn’t ignore where she chooses to guide him. they’re positioned so he can view the door straight on, while she’s looking at it in a reflection, but between the two, she is the sharpshooter. ]
For a breather? [ barty keeps his voice light, in case anybody’s looking too closely. ] Sure, if you need to. [ he tilts his head in the vague direction of the door. ]
It is a little stuffy in here, [ she concedes with a small smile, though whether or not she means the atmosphere or the people — who can say.
she slips her arm through his and tugs him along towards the door, keeping her gaze on him as if she isn't keenly aware of security standing guard there. ]
You should show me your office, [ she continues sweetly, leaving just enough suggestion in her tone that she hopes the two guards overhearing this will live up to how much of a chad both of them look and let them through without trouble. hell, maybe even give barty a high five along the way. whatever it is bros do these days. ]
barty raises his eyebrows, cycling through the right emotions for what somebody in his situation should be feeling - apprehension, understanding, and a sort of sly delight. he grins down at her, being careful to not try and gauge the guards’ reaction, and offers kate his arm just as she takes it. ] I’d be delighted. It’s a private office.
[ that time, he does glance over, trying to send the silent message of come on, man, help me out here. as they get closer to the door, he drops his arm, hand resting at the small of kate’s back - not so far down to be indecent or blatantly pervy, but. close. ]
Got something to grab at my desk. [ it’s a lie to the guards, even in their cover it’s still a brazen falsehood. barty holds his ID up so the guards can see, photo and museum logo visible, but his name’s blocked by his fingers. ] You mind?
[ when kate was still going to school, before the young avengers, there was a period where she was cycling through extracurriculars practically by the week in an effort to scratch the restless itch that befalls all teenagers with too much time on their hands. she had had a brief stint in the drama club, but a late audition relegated her to lady-in-waiting and understudy, and so she never really had the opportunity to flex her acting skills like she'd wanted to.
standing here now, hanging off of barty's arm and looking demurely down and off to the side to avoid the guards' eyes while she chewed on her bottom lip and coyly played with her hair, she thinks she could've been pretty damn good on the stage.
the guard barty speaks to glances at the id but only sees the museum's logo before cracking a conspiratorial smile. he steps aside, even props the door open for them.
Enjoy, sir. kate would've gagged if she could.
kate waits until they actually duck into said office before turning to barty and making a face. ]
Jonah is a wise man. I don't think I'd be here without him.
Slowly. Considering taking a vacation somewhere, but I don't know where. I'd try a stay-cation, but then I'd be tempted to poke at my fathers old journals and discover another world-ending problem.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
she dresses up nicely, choosing a dress that means she can't wear all the diamonds her father instead draped his "friend" in. effie couldn't avoid all the jewelry, she let him clasp a bracelet of pink diamonds around her wrist. she looks exactly as rich as she really is, honestly, and she's even taller thanks to the towering heels that click across the wood floors as she tries to avoid being pulled into conversation with some old bloke who wants to be in her father's good graces, making a beeline for the only person she recognizes and also tolerates.
her fingers curl around his elbow, smiling serenely at the people he is chatting with. ]
Mr Rook, hello. Would you mind if I borrowed you for a moment?
[ she even sounds posh, the kind of generic english movie posh which is a far cry from her deep london accent. ]
no subject
he's definitely not as well-off or as polished as effie is, but barty knows how to clean up well enough: dry-cleaned suit, shoes with minimal marks on them, scruff tidied up so that it looks like an actual choice, and not just that he was lazy about shaving. he's listening to a story about some new discovery in mozambique, champagne flute in hand, when he feels the hand on his arm and the warm presence next to him.
to his credit, he doesn't double take too obviously when he realizes who's speaking. ] Sure. [ an apologetic smile towards the small circle, and he murmurs into effie's ear as he's led away. ]
This is a surprise.
no subject
My name's on the bloody sign, innit? [ ah there is effie. underneath all the glamour she is still just her usual trash self, dressed up pretty and voice low. ] Did you really not notice?
[ in his defence, the wing has been re-christened in the name of evangeline van horn grey and effie doesn't use her full given name or her father's name in general, definitely not in school, so if he simply missed it she wouldn't be shocked. most people don't even consider effie to be short for evangeline — because it's not, effie comes from a three year old struggling to pronounce evie. ]
Or did you get so many invites to posh galas you don't even read 'em anymore?
no subject
barty’s been through the private wings and back rooms of the museums more time than he can count, he doesn’t hesitate before following her. when he pauses in a doorway, it’s not out of nerves or anxiety, but sheer disbelief at what she’s said. ] I’m sorry, it’s what?
[ one gala leads to another leads to yet another and no, he really doesn’t look at the invites all that closely. almost belatedly, he steps through the doorway and out of the main foyer of the museum. ]
Since when?
no subject
[ the words drip with sarcasm, her dad doesn't care about shit but tax write offs and oh boy this is a big one. she can't really tell if barty is shocked because of the amount of money involved, these things don't happen with a $20 donation after all, or at her full name or that she isn't a broke university student. maybe all three, she isn't going to stop him from processing it all, looking up at him with a placid expression.
looking up at him because even with towering heels she is still tiny. ]
no subject
of course part of the job requires a bit of playing along. to blend in with the throng of donors and museum dignitaries, smiling and laughing and whatever else it is rich people and people who want their money do.
kate rarely leaves barty's side, playing up the wide-eyed graduate simply glad to be there to a t. given this is barty's home court, she graciously takes her cues from him, letting him glide them along the floor to greet and mingle with so-and-so as he must. during a brief reprieve between elbow-rubbing, kate finally gets to unhinge her jaw from all that stepford smiling and relax a little. ]
Good decision on the dessert, by the way. That cheesecake was disappointing.
no subject
after dinner (two chicken orders), and her dessert, they start the rounds. barty’s never been a fan of the hobnobbing and asskissing, and it gnaws at him when he’s good at it, but he’s long since been able to fall into the usual pattern of flattery, handshaking, and back-slapping. when kate starts to relax, he laughs. ]
Doesn’t surprise me, mass produced dessert can only be so good. Used to never turn it down, though.
[ cavities stopped that, a while back. he glances over to her - eyes up, rook. ] Usual security. Doom hasn't shown.
no subject
she reaches over and gives barty's stomach a friendly little pat, her smile sweet. ]
I can give you my exercise regimen if you ever want to go back to indulging. You're fine with pilates and chasing street criminals, right?
[ with her hand still along his torso she gently maneuvers them closer to the walls, weaving past chatty donors. she doesn't have to lower her voice nearly as much once they're a bit more tucked away. this also gives them a view to the doors that'll ultimately lead them to the mask. ]
Yeah it felt like there was a significant lack of evil dictator energy in the room.
[ she shifts to stand in front of barty, pretending to adjust his tie. ]
What do you think? Now seems as good a time as any.
no subject
[ good dessert, though - well, he hasn’t exactly given that up for good. just most of the time.
bishop’s good at playing the part, he’ll give her that. the glances their way (mixture of envious and disapproving), how she’s been able to effortlessly slip between public-facing laughter and a dry, quiet amusement - it’s worked well. and he doesn’t ignore where she chooses to guide him. they’re positioned so he can view the door straight on, while she’s looking at it in a reflection, but between the two, she is the sharpshooter. ]
For a breather? [ barty keeps his voice light, in case anybody’s looking too closely. ] Sure, if you need to. [ he tilts his head in the vague direction of the door. ]
no subject
she slips her arm through his and tugs him along towards the door, keeping her gaze on him as if she isn't keenly aware of security standing guard there. ]
You should show me your office, [ she continues sweetly, leaving just enough suggestion in her tone that she hopes the two guards overhearing this will live up to how much of a chad both of them look and let them through without trouble. hell, maybe even give barty a high five along the way. whatever it is bros do these days. ]
no subject
barty raises his eyebrows, cycling through the right emotions for what somebody in his situation should be feeling - apprehension, understanding, and a sort of sly delight. he grins down at her, being careful to not try and gauge the guards’ reaction, and offers kate his arm just as she takes it. ] I’d be delighted. It’s a private office.
[ that time, he does glance over, trying to send the silent message of come on, man, help me out here. as they get closer to the door, he drops his arm, hand resting at the small of kate’s back - not so far down to be indecent or blatantly pervy, but. close. ]
Got something to grab at my desk. [ it’s a lie to the guards, even in their cover it’s still a brazen falsehood. barty holds his ID up so the guards can see, photo and museum logo visible, but his name’s blocked by his fingers. ] You mind?
no subject
standing here now, hanging off of barty's arm and looking demurely down and off to the side to avoid the guards' eyes while she chewed on her bottom lip and coyly played with her hair, she thinks she could've been pretty damn good on the stage.
the guard barty speaks to glances at the id but only sees the museum's logo before cracking a conspiratorial smile. he steps aside, even props the door open for them.
Enjoy, sir. kate would've gagged if she could.
kate waits until they actually duck into said office before turning to barty and making a face. ]
Guys are gross.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
listen im too shy to put this on the street of baker
no subject
I'm scandalized.
1/2
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
I have papers to grade.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/3
2/3
3/3
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
text:
no subject
I live in this world, I'd like for it to keep safe.
no subject
no subject
no subject
Slowly. Considering taking a vacation somewhere, but I don't know where. I'd try a stay-cation, but then I'd be tempted to poke at my fathers old journals and discover another world-ending problem.
How about you?
no subject
Or their usually is, I'm free this summer.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)