2013.08.09 - Dangerous Women

The Sundram Tagore Gallery on 27th Street in Chelsea announced some months back that several prominant pieces of art that were on display were to be auctioned off to benefit the conservation of wildlife and culture in the African Serengeti. It was to be one of those events that would draw the upper crust of New York's elite, along with a few who came calling from around the world.
The gallery itself is spacious, white walls and ceiling and a plain, sealed concrete floor to make sure that the art itself is the main attraction. The entire gallery is open, though most of the crowd and attention seems to be on a group of African-inspired paintings and sculptures. Wait staff in tuxedos and black dresses serve drinks and hors d'eouvres as the guests mingle. The artists are present as well, discussing their works to anyone who will listen.
Of course, there isn't an event like this that one Justin Hammer doesn't at least make an effort to attend. While the art is nice, it's the networking and the flaunting of power and influence that really draws him to these gatherings. He's currently speaking with one of the artists, a middle aged woman dressed more like a hippie than one of New York's elite. The CEO's dark three piece suit is a massive contrast to the wild wardrobe the painter has donned for the event.
Draped in green and black silk, with her distinctive white hair pinned in place with diamonds and pearls, Jeannette is not allowing herself to blend into the crowd tonight. Fluttering from person to person, businessman to artist, and yes, even giving the art a serious, considering eye. "Mister Hammer," she greets the tycoon warmly, with a kiss on the cheek- which, thanks to very good-quality lip-stain, does /not/ smudge or leave a mark on him. "You'll have to forgive me- I don't know if we've had the pleasure, or if I've just seen you featured in so many lovely articles that I feel like I know you. I'm Jeannette. I own the Nocturne in Las Vegas. You /have/ been to my humble establishment, yes?" This is all said as her hand slides along his arm, drawing away only after she poses the question.
Slade Wilson stands taller, broader, and with more dignity then anyone within ten feet of him. And there are a lot of people close by chatting him up. He cuts a rather unique figure, given his size, his own white hair, and the patch on his missing eye, he tends to stand out. The expensive suit helps him fit in a bit more. "Thank you ma'am," he says, his deep voice carrying easily, "but no. I'm here as a sportsman and a Kenya resident. Our resources are nothing is not spectacular and require protecting. It doesn't hurt that the offered art is beautiful and the women here only serve to render it trite in comparisson." he offers the tittering solcialite a look that can only be described as 'smooldering' before his grin turns knowing. He turns to look around seeking rescue from a growing crowd of empty headed women with fake tans and personal trainer bodies... There. "If you ladies will excuse me, I see a friend I must catch up with." A wave, another smile, and then he's wading out of the Shark Pit and towards Justin... who he's never met.
When he hears his name, the CEO excuses himself from his current conversation. It's a welcome relief, as he was actually starting to tire of hearing about how one Karma Moonbeam (apparently, she had her name legally changed to that) had communed with the spirits of the flowers in order to better capture their essence on the canvas. Turning away from the artist he's greeted by Jeannette's rather up front introduction. He doesn't complain, not in the slightest. "Jeannette, I don't think we've met," he replies with a broad grin that just isn't quite trustworthy. "But the pleasure's all mine. Though, I have to say, I'm glad my reputation proceeds me." He offers a chuckle, glancing over as he sees someone else making an approach. A face he can't help but recognize from the higher social circles, though he's never actually met the man. Back to Jeannette, he answers her question. "I have, actually. Was in Nevada just last month as a matter of fact."
"Oh, you'll have to let me know next time- I /do/ like to indulge my higher-profile guests," she admits. "I'll make sure you have the finest suite, on the house, next time," she assures him. 
As Slade approaches, her head perks up, ever so slightly. And she turns to smile to him, predator to predator. She can smell it on him, that intoxicating, dangerous scent of a killer. "Well, hello there. I... you'll have to forgive me, your name escapes me at the moment. Mister...?"
Slade Wilson returns the smile with one of his own, acknowledging the woman. His cyclopean gaze travels her in a manner that's not suggestive so much as plainly stating that he's expertly sizing her up without being to insulting as to undress her with his eye. "Wilson," he says, offering his best (which is exceptional) fake British accent, "Slade Wilson." then he chuckles and nods to Hammer, "Mr. Hammer. This is a fine event, I hope you do not mind but I thought I would grace the pair of you with my presence... namely so I could divest myself of theirs." a slightest motion of his head points out the group of slightly drunk urban socialites. "Save me Mr. Hammer, before one attaches it self to me like a lamprey with much the same result."
"Absolutely, I will," Justin replies to Jeannette. He's got the full cocky, overconfident attitude going now, thanks to the woman's gushing greeting. The CEO turns toward Slade as Jeannette greets him, offering a mellowed out version of the smile he greeted the woman with. "Mister Wilson! A name I've heard, but I've never had a chance to actually meet you," Hammer says as he offers his hand to the other man to shake. "And certainly, join us. Though if you're trying to avoid getting latched onto, be careful of the flower child over there." He casually points toward the oblivious artist, who has now started talking someone else's leg off.
Jeannette chuckles, pinning the name in the back of her mind for later. She may just have use for it. 
"Ah," she smiles at one of the women Slade mentioned, who... seem a little spooked out by her, judging by the way they decide it's time for a group bathroom break right then. "Harmless, if bothersome parasites. Luckily they don't bother with me- I tend to keep myself out of the society pages at all costs." There are some really strange rumours about the white-haired woman amongst that set- she's become the boogey-woman-de-jour with them. She can't say she doesn't enjoy it. Half of them will swear up and down she's some sort of black-widow-vampire-monster. Jeannette thinks it's adorable.
Slade Wilson takes Hammer's hand in his own calloused one, giving a shake that's firm and on the cusp of being uncomfortable. The tradiational MAN HANDSHAKE one hears so much about but sees so rarely these days. "Noted. Thanks for the heads up, I was going to congradulate her on her work later. Now I think I'll just send a card." He nods his approval to Jeannette, "As do I. The last thing I feel the need to become is someone's most getting batchelor. I would have to hire a body guard then, and that would completely destroy my reputation."
Justin manages to mostly return the handshake in kind. He knows that with guys like Slade, you can't show weakness. While physically he's no match, he likes to think that he can out-smart the likes of people like Wilson. "Good call," Hammer replies with another glance toward the artist. Luckily she's easy to spot in a crowd, and thus avoid. He offers another chuckle at the comments back and forth between Jeannette and Slade, nodding in agreement. Though, honestly, he wouldn't really object to the attention if he were the center of it, instead of Slade.
"I suppose I'm taking that risk standing here with you, though, Mister Hammer," says Jeannette, pouring on the compliments in a way that really does seem sincere. "Well, I suppose some risks are worth taking for the sake of good company, hm?" she says, taking a glass of champagne from a passing server, and nodding to both men. "Both of you really must indulge me with a visit sometime. Las Vegas may not be your usual prowling grounds, Mister Wilson, but I'm sure I can make arrangements for you to be quite comfortable."
Slade Wilson shrugs one shoulder, "I have never found Vegas to be much in the way of enjoyable. Everything is designed for comfort and the dulling of the senses. It seems to mass produce weakness... Now, the dessert on the other hand. That I did enjoy."
...And the compliments are certainly winning Jeannette points with Justin. He too takes a glass from the server who passes by, then turns back to the company he's found himself in. "What can I say? I've just got that sort of personality." In reality? No he doesn't. But it's nice to think that way once in a while. Slade's comment about Las Vegas gets an arched brow from the CEO. It looks like the two of them are about as opposite as they come. "There is some good hunting in Nevada, from what I've heard. I'd love to go out there for White Wing one of these days. If I ever manage to find the time."
"I could certainly make some arrangements for you, if you do. And I do have some smaller resorts in more... exotic locales," she says with a nod to Slade. "I'll /certainly/ have to add you to my invite lists. I have quite a few hunters who favour some of my establishments." She... doesn't say /what/ they hunt, however. 
"Here, both of you- I /insist/ you take these," she says, taking two cards from inside her evening clutch purse. There's no name on them, just a number, and the faint scent of some floral perfume. 
"Both of you are men I feel I just have to get to know better," she tells them. "But I'm afraid I'm expected somewhere else quite shortly. It was quite the pleasure to meet you. I do hope to hear from you soon," somehow, she says this in a way that seems to be individually addressing both of them at the same time.
Slade Wilson nods his head in agreement, "It's not bad. But I walked the dessert edge to edge with nothing but a canteen and some basic gear one year. Nearly killed me. Was an exceptional challenge. Vegas was my reward for the victory. It was fine for a time, but very... surface. Still," he grins at Hammer, "there's something to be said for a good surface." he takes the offered card from the woman and eyes the number, filing it away in his head. It'll end up in the trash on his way out, but it's not like he needs the thing after all. "That could prove interesting." he admits.
Hammer takes the offered card with a nod and a grin. He looks it over, then slips it into an inside pocket of his suit coat. "Next time I'm in Nevada I'll be sure to look you up, Miss Jeannette," he offers to the woman. "Especially if I do get a chance to finally hunt White Wing in your neck of the desert." To Slade he offers, "Sometimes the simple pleasures of gambling, booze and fine women are all one needs." Honestly, the thought of trekking through the desert as Wilson described sounds like anything but a 'challenge' to Justin. He's grown pretty fond of his rather posh lifestyle.
After her pleasantries are given, Jeannette, departs, meeting a man at the door whose presence screams 'body guard' who escorts her away. She has an appointment with another CEO that she's rather looking forward to.
Slade Wilson watches the woman go and glances back down at the card in his hand, "That is a dangerous woman." he states flatly. "I like it."
Justin watches Jeannette go. Closely. Once she's out of sight, he looks back to Slade and shrugs lightly. "Yeah, she does have that air about her," he says, though it's pretty obvious that she's got him under a bit of a spell either way.
Slade Wilson nods his head, "Definately trouble..." he looks up, realizes his Shield Against The Throng is gone, and he sighs as the sharks begin to desend once more, "Speaking of... Ladies ladies!" he says, grinning charmingly as they all approach, one elbowing another to get closer, "I ever tell you about that time Justin Hammer pulled me from my yacht as it was sinking? I told you we were old friends right? Well, his /bigger/ yacht came to my rescue after a small mishap with a typhoon tore my hull wide open. You should ask him about it. Believe me, it's quite a yarn."
Any female attention is good attention, right? Well, no, but close enough. None of them are Justin's ex-wife, so it's fine. The CEO gives Slade a somewhat surprised look, but he manages to cover it with a quick sip from the champagne flute. "Oh, right! Yes, well, ya know, right place, right time is all." Hammer's most certainly not above telling a white lie or two if it means making himself look better to the ladies. "Was just glad that I was there to help you out, old buddy."
Slade Wilson nods his head and starts to back away from the gaggle. Slowly. "Don't forget to tell them about the shark." he says with a sage nod, "It nearly took my arm off. Hadn't been for you... ... ..." and then he's at a safe distance and heading for the nearest exit, tossing Hammer a little wave. Whew. Bait. Hook. Meet school of guppies.
Category:Log