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gadabouts

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From:

trustfundbaby

[ 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. ]

From:

gadabouts

[ 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. ]

This is a surprise.

From:

trustfundbaby

[ 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?

From:

gadabouts

[ 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 when?

From:

trustfundbaby

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. ]

From:

mauved

[ 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.

From:

gadabouts

[ 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.

From:

mauved

[ 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.

From:

gadabouts

[ 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. ]

From:

mauved

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. ]

From:

gadabouts

[ well, that’s a fair point.

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?

From:

mauved

[ 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. ]

Guys are gross.

From:

gadabouts

[ there’s a lot of frustrating machismo and back-slapping in the world, and while barty’s not completely immune to it, there’s more than a few things that he’s resolute on. he doesn’t (usually) kiss and tell, and he absolutely doesn’t sleep with his students. they’re like, teenagers. playing the role of a cad is easy - ought to reflect on that sometime - but he still doesn’t like it. while kate’s playing the coy grad student, barty’s face is stony, working on selling the lie-within-a-lie he’d spun.

just to sell it, he does wink the one of the guards as they pass, but rolls his eyes the moment they’re out of sight. ]

You’d think, [ he begins, dropping his hand from kate’s back, ] That there wouldn’t be those sorts of meatheads in academia. And yet. [ he shrugs. at the very least, those are just basic rent-a-cops, nobody he has to make nice with again.

barty’s office is in a state of perpetually organized chaos. cluttered is putting it graciously: maps and books scattered throughout, travel suitcase leaning against the wall, souvenirs and statues and knicknacks crammed in the shelves. there’s an empty, dirty mug on his desk, but at least he’d swept up any stray crumbs or scraps of paper. ]

From:

mauved

And yet, [ kate hums in wry agreement. the way she sees it, it makes perfect sense to find this kind of attitude fostered in academia, one of america's oldest known boys' club to still be left standing. it may not be as rampant or blatant as other institutions like sports or even nerd culture, but where there are fragile male egos, there be flagrant misogyny.

she wanders around to idly look through his belongings, figuring everything's free game now that they're in here. it's only when she makes a full sweep around the mahogany desk does she take a spot leaning against it, expectant. ]

So you gonna tell me where the mask is, or do I have to say "pretty please"?

From:

gadabouts

[ well. everyone's got their blind spots.

almost absentmindedly, barty starts to straighten a few of the books and papers on his desk. it's habit when he's buying time to make a response - and besides, if somebody does check in on the office, he wants it to look at least a little different. times like this, it pays to be paranoid. ]

Transitional storage room, they'll be moving it into the display in about an hour. Check the bottom of the tiger statue.

[ tucked underneath a small statuette on his bookshelf is a small key that he's definitely not supposed to have. ]

You got a way to stash it while we're leaving?

From:

mauved

[ after giving it a once-over, she tucks the key into the garter strapped to her thigh, just beside a short row of throwing knives. at his question, she turns to him with a dazzling smile, a kate bishop standard, the kind that gives one the impression they're staring right down the barrel of a gun. ]

Let me worry about that.

[ it is definitely worrisome, to say the least, but she doesn't seem at all fazed by it. instead, she looks him over, readjusts the lapels of his blazer. ]

Four doors down the hall to the left, right? [ she recounts the layout of the museum still fresh in her mind, but it pays to double-check. ]

From:

gadabouts

[ oh. oh right. kate bishop is one of the world’s best sharpshooters - just because barty hasn’t personally seen her in action doesn’t mean that it’s not true. for just a moment, he truly feels it - the bullseye on his chest, the nearly feral glimmer in her eyes. the knives on her thigh aren’t the only thing that’s sharp.

bartholomew rook realizes that he’s in deep, deep trouble. ]

Sure.

[ but he smiles, tight-lipped and polite, as kate fiddles with his jacket. ] Yeah. I’ll keep watch. Don’t get sticky fingers, Bishop.

From:

mauved

[ that smile only seems to sharpen as she takes note of the sudden tension in his shoulders. ]

Who, me? I'm the good guy, remember?

[ he's flashed a wink, like it's some secret shared between the two of them, and then she's slipping away and out of the office, quiet as a mouse. a quick glance down either side of the hall tells her the coast is clear for now, so she makes her way towards the storage room, heels carefully silent despite the swiftness of her steps.

she's nearly there when she hears the sound of chatter down the opposite end of the hall, and she knows from experience she has only a split second's worth to decide. no corners to hide behind, no door nearby to sneak past.

so she grabs for the next best thing, which is barty himself, just a half-step behind her. his lapel is affronted once more, white-knuckle gripped in a hand as she spins on a heel and whirls them around — her back hits the wall and he's pulled right up against her, flush, no room for jesus or even a breath because she's stealing his next one, sealing her lips firmly around his.

look alive, rook. ]

From:

gadabouts

[ he almost doesn’t follow her. kate’s a professional heroine (if that’s even an actual job), they went over the plan. kate does the lift, he provides access and keeps watch, they both get out easy enough. and with the layout of the back corridors of the museum, it’s eventually a dead end to a room mostly used to store cleaning equipment and chairs, nobody should be coming from there.

should be.

but she turns to saunter off, barty gets this moment of last-minute paranoia. and without thinking about it, he’s following her down the hall, silently trailing. not that barty’s trying to keep secret from kate specifically, just - general secretive.

and it’s a good thing, too, because there’s chatter from exactly where there shouldn’t be. and thank god for kate bishop’s quick thinking. to his credit, barty’s not shocked, or at least he doesn’t let it show for long. Instinct takes over. barty rook does not kiss shyly, but with the focus and precision of a man who’s not only experienced in his fair share of against-the-wall hookups, but just might have pulled this distracting trick before.

he grabs kate’s leg and hikes it up, hoping that she’s as flexible as he assumed, and gets a good handful right where thigh meets ass. hey, this isn’t a time that he can (hah!) half-ass anything. it’s all in the name of making it look real. ]