2012-09-19 At The HFC

New York City, Wednesday evening. Alan was in town for business, a meeting that ended too late for him to catch a show while he was here. Since it's too early to just retire to his hotel room and Sam is in Beijing, it's to the Hellfire Club for him for a lazy, relaxing evening of opulence, find food and fine liquor. Dinner over, he's in the lounge with a snifter of cognac and reading the Times.
While it is bordering on late when Alan arrives it isn't until several hours later that Irena Dubrovna does herself, the blonde dressed to the nines in a long black gown and a white fur wrap that hints to just how rich this woman is. At first escorted within the club proper, the woman takes her leave of the man but not before he's given a peck on the cheek. She must be someone well known here as she's brought a flute of champagne immediately, the golden bubbly liquid sipped from while she looks around. Alan's noticed and approached, the woman moving as fluidly as someone trained in dance.
Alan sets his snifter to the side in order to free a hand and refold the paper to the next page. It always pays to keep tabs on the competition. Noticing someone heading his way, he glances up and gives the woman a quizzical look though also a nod of greeting.
"Mister Scott," Irena says while offering him a hand, her eyes sparkling almost as brightly as the diamond cuff bracelet she has wrapped around her left wrist. "I do hope I am not intruding upon you but I noticed you and wanted to introduce myself. I am Irena Dubrovna." She gives a million dollar smile. "How does the evening find you?"
Alan folds his paper and puts it down before standing and taking the hand. "Ms. Dubrovna." he says. "How nice to meet you. I'm quite well, thank you. And yourself? Would you care to join me?" He motions to another of the padded chairs that have been placed to form a little square for small groups to talk in an illusion of privacy.
"I am doing very well," Irena answers while sitting down, crossing her legs at the knees. It is only because of the thigh-high slit that she's able to, the gown being entirely too tight to facilitate such otherwise. "I normally do not go and just introduce myself like I did but I have seen articles about you in the paper and I just /had/ to meet you."
Alan sits once Irena does and reclaims his snifter. At the comment, he smiles. "Don't believe all you read. I try not to give the competition anything interesting to write about so they just make things up." Not that he's in the news often and when he is it's mostly in the financial section.
"I never believe most of what I read," Irena says with a slight shake of her head, "but those photos sure did do you justice." An attempt at a discrete looking over is made but it's probably anything but. Not when her smile broadens. "So what brought you here tonight, Mister Scott? Business or... pleasure?"
Alan's smile grows a bit wider at the compliment and he tilts his head in a thank you. "Call me Alan. It was business earlier but now it is pleasure. I didn't feel like flying back to Gotham tonight so decided to stay and just enjoy a nice evening of doing absolutely nothing of importance."
Irena raises a hand, beckoning towards a server who is very quick in coming over, attentive to the woman's needs. "Another glass, please," she requests, her first glass not even half empty. "This one has gotten warm." The man nods once, takes the glass from her and goes to get her a fresh drink. Hands empty, she turns her full attention to Alan. "Who can blame you, Alan," she half-purrrs. "Gotham is so drab. Dark."
"My boyfriend says the same thing." Alan points out with a broad smile. "Though he does admit some of Gotham is very nice." The parts where the rich people live and can afford private security. "But it is home. Where you do call home, Irena?"
"I should have known you'd be taken," Irena laughs. "Every handsome man I meet is. So unfair," she playfully wails. "Ah well. Your boyfriend is right, I am sure. There's beauty to be found no matter where you are. You just got to be willing to look for it." The waiter returns with her drink which is set on the table but is ignored, the conversation being of more interest to her than the promise of a drink.
"Something too few people are willing to do today." Alan agrees. He uses his snifter to gesture around him and gives the lounge a quick glance. "It's easy to see what's just on the surface and expect everything beautiful to glitter and shine. It takes time and effort to see beneath the surface."
"About the only beauty you can find here is in the form of plastic surgery and hundred dollar bottles of skin cream," Irena asserts, that said while she looks at one particularly scantily-clad woman who is on the arm of a very well-off, much older man. "Oh. I forgot to answer your question. I am sorry. I tend not to call any one particular place home," Irena says, backtracking. "I travel so much between my homes in London, Moscow and other places..."
Alan nods. "I know the feeling. I'm often traveling between cities in the US, London and Beijing. But I was born in Gotham and it's not something easily forgotten. Or something I want to forget."
Irena takes up her glass and looks at the way the bubbles float to the surface, her eyes narrowing slightly while her features soften. "I understand what you mean," she murmurs quietly. "But I think home is one of those things you can never forget."
"For better or worse." Alan agrees. Lifting his snifter, he toasts "To home." and takes a sip. "It shapes us. So where were you born then, if you don't mind saying so."
"I was born in Moscow," Irena says post-toast. "We lived in a nice area of the city. Father inherited my grandfather's shipping company and... well. I do not like to brag. Needless to say, we can claim to be old money." The fluted glass is used to indicate the club. "My father was a member of this establishment as was his father before him and his before him." A quick smile's given. "I am the first woman to have an ownership."
"There's a lot of old money here." Alan agrees. "My father was a member but he made his wealth so it's still got that new car smell to it. I'm sure some members wish they were more restrictive... like to those who can trace their blood back to nobility." It's said with a small grin. "Congratulations on your membership then."
"Thank you, although I really wouldn't say my membership is something to be congratulated. I am an only child. I am sure if my father had a son it'd go to him instead." The fact is voiced matter-of-factly, her tone neutral. No bitterness, no twinges of anger. It is just how things are in her family. "Was your father also in the broadcasting business, Alan?"
Alan shakes his head at the question. "Construction. Broadcasting was something I always wanted and developed on my own. He was dubious about it but is now quite happy at GBC's success. I hope that one day we'll be spoken of in the same breath as CNN and MSNBC for news while still offering original programming."
"Dubious parents are always happy when they see their children are doing well." Irena takes a sip of champagne and then sits it to the side, it once again losing its interest. "I do wish you all the luck in the world," she adds, very sincerely. "And I, for one, will be rooting for you."
"Not to mention how they spur one to succeed." Alan adds. "Sometimes I wonder if that was intentional on his part." He'd ask if he wasn't certain his father wouldn't answer. "Thank you. We're getting there. We just purchased our first satellite. Do you have an occupation?"
"Not currently. I have decided to live the life of a jet-setting socialite for awhile before settling down. I probably will just find a rich husband to settle down with, perhaps have a few kids and then have a complete emotional breakdown by the time I am forty." It might seem like she's serious but Irena is soon laughing, unable to keep a straight face. "I have actually been entertaining the idea of going to one of the universities here in the States but not sure what I'd like to do."
Laughing as well, Alan shakes his head. "The American dream? If you just skip right to the breakdown, you could get it out of the way, recover sooner and then move on. But the idea of university sounds like a much better one. And since you don't need to worry about a major, you can just take whatever interests you. Maybe you'll find an avocation that way."
"Perhaps. But I'm still young. I don't think I'll have to make up my mind one way or another, just yet. Plus I have entirely too many things up in the air. I need to get everything taken care of and then I'll look into school." One of the club members walks by, openly leering at Irena. She smiles sweetly at him in return until the point he's out of earshot and the smile fades. "God, I would love to be invisible some nights."
Alan gives Irena a sympathetic look. "Men can be dogs." he notes and he has some experience with that. "But why did you smile at him? You should have given him a look that indicated just how crass and boorish he was being instead of pretending to appreciate his attention."
"What harm is there in smiling," Irena questions with a tilt of her head. "It isn't like he'll get anywhere with me, after all. There's no harm in... you know. Empowering someone."
"It seems to me the harm is to yourself." Alan points out. "Hence the smile fading as soon as he's out of sight and your comment. Not to mention that if you never tell him he's being an ass, he might never realize it. He probably won't care if you do, but you never know."
Irena hadn't thought about that and it shows in her reaction, the way she blinks several times before her brows arch, her eyes then going wide. "You are right," she whispers before standing. "Excuse me a second." Seems like it was her who wound up being empowered thanks to Alan as she's soon crossing the room and giving the man a piece of her mind. By the end of it he looks properly contrite and he offers her his most sincere apology. It takes several minutes but she eventually returns.
Alan watches Irena stride over and smiles at the unfolding drama. As she returns, he lifts his snifter to her in a silent toast.
There's a smile again and Irena winks. "I think he'll learn his lesson. And, as much as I hate to do this, I do think I should retire for the evening. It was a pleasure meeting you, Alan. I do hope we can do this again."
Standing, Alan shifts his snifter to his other hand and extends one. "A pleasure meeting you, Irena." And the boor isn't the only one who's learned a lesson it seems. "I'm not often in New York but if you're in Gotham, please get in touch. You can always reach me through GBC."
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