Closed + Open } Dangerous when cornered

[aspecialkindofwoman]

April 2 | The halls

Milady arrives to the hotel and immediately finds the first and last person she's looking for.

No warning | Rated U for unrequited and unresolved | ongoing

~~
April 6 - Open
One of the things that has kept the woman known as Milady de Winter alive in all she's been through: she is resilient and she is tough and she is opportunistic. She has learned what she thinks there is to learn about this place and eyed a few doors, but she hasn't tried any yet. This isn't cowardice; it's canniness. She needs to know what she's doing. So this is how she comes to wander through the shop then making her way to the Smoking room. She's looking at everything and everyone; the clothing some wear here is ... intriguing. She's tempted to take some; it would be easy enough. But in the meantime, she walks, hip swinging, offering a smile at the men that she thinks could benefit her, while sizing up the women. She'll have a drink or maybe more, seeing who might be buying.

Comments

[morethanhuman]

It was almost funny, having a woman smile at him like that; most of the ones here didn't bother, either because having Jordan almost constantly at his side kept most of them away, or because they were insightful enough to fish in more receptive waters. This woman, though— either she was undeterred by the air of solitary disinterest he was giving off, or she simply didn't care enough about social convention to humor him.

She held his glare for far longer than expected, which impressed him enough to relent. "New here, I take it?" he asked, pushing back the barstool beside him with a flick of his power.

[aspecialkindofwoman]

Milady de Winter isn't much for social convention. It doesn't serve her well, most of the time and if there is one thing she's interested in, it's what serves her.

Of course, when he makes the stool move without touching it, up go her eyebrows. That's interesting.

She sits, smoothing her skirts around her. "I suppose."


{gleeeee}

[morethanhuman]

It was a coy answer, but clearly a response to the display of his power; he couldn't blame her for wanting to retake the upper hand. She'd succeeded in making him curious, at least— Erik wasn't easily interested in humans as a rule, but someone who took such pains to be mysterious in a place where blending in was as easy as breathing? Worth spending a few minutes on— and a drink, if she was interested.

"Then allow me to welcome you by buying you a drink. Max?" He beckoned the bartender over; they were practically old friends at this point. "Another gimlet for me, and the lady will have—" he paused for a moment, eyeing her as he considered, then decided, "a glass of red wine, I think. Something sweet and dark and very expensive."

It wasn't often, now, that Erik had cause to trot out the charm and flattery that had allowed him to travel through whatever circles he pleased in pursuit of his Nazi prey— but he liked to believe he hadn't lost his touch, and judging by the look on the woman's face, he wasn't wrong.

[aspecialkindofwoman]

No, she could be impressed by - or suitably appreciative of - such things. After all, if nothing else, she would get a drink out of the encounter. She gives him a small smile as she leans back in her chair, clearly and unabashedly sizing him up. "Who do I thank for such a generous offer?" she asks.

[morethanhuman]

Erik returned the little smile and the once-over. "Someone who's been here long enough to recognize a new arrival when he sees one." If her demeanor didn't give her away, her clothing certainly did.

Max brought their drinks then, and Erik sipped his gimlet— perfect, as usual— before actually answering her questions. "Erik Lehnsherr."

[aspecialkindofwoman]

Taking her glass and edging it close enough that she can twirl the delicate stem, she meets his gaze and says, "Thank you, monsieur," she says, dipping her head just a bit. She doesn't immediately give her name.

[morethanhuman]

"My pleasure," he replied, one shoulder twitching briefly toward his ear in a little shrug. His smile reappeared briefly, and he added, "I'm always happy to buy drinks for beautiful castaways." Who, apparently, wished to remain nameless. She was definitely hiding something, then— or just cagey verging on paranoid.

[aspecialkindofwoman]

Or perhaps both. Perhaps she is merely still sizing up this place and its inhabitants, looking for clues as to what she can do to gain some kind of advantage.

"Where are you from, monsieur?" she asks, eyes slow to flick up so she can gaze at him through her lashes.

[morethanhuman]

"Germany, originally," Erik replied— then, both because he thought it pertinent to let her know the degree to which she was out of her element, and because he guessed her reaction would be amusing, added, "the year was 1962 when I was taken."

[aspecialkindofwoman]

Even for someone who can be as impassive as she can, those different years - even centuries - can be disconcerting. "... and how is 1962 compared to this?" she asks, tone dry.

[morethanhuman]

He actually considered that before answering truthfully, "Brighter. Louder. More dangerous for me and my kind. But less interesting, on the whole. Here— it's not free of danger, but it's much more exciting." When he'd first been taken, he hadn't felt that way; he'd spent his first six months furious at being removed from his life. Now he could scarcely think of a reason to go back to it. The mutant cause was always strong in his thoughts, but if Mystique were to be believed, it would soldier on quite well without him.

Sipping his drink, he spoke again to cut himself off from following that train of thought further. "If you intend to keep your name to yourself, surely you can give me a time frame. A century, at least. I'm not a good enough historian to guess."

[aspecialkindofwoman]

Arching a brow at him, Milady swirls her wine in her glass. "Fine," she says. "1632." And her gaze slides to him. "Paris."

She takes a sip and smirks at him. "So ... what does that mean to you?"

[morethanhuman]

Erik considered. "That would be Louis the... twelfth? No, thirteenth," he amended. "Contemporary of Cardinal Richelieu and the musketeers. Elaborate fashion, duels of honor, espionage and swashbuckling and illicit romances— the foundations on which a hundred novels were built."

He shrugged, gave a smile that was more smirk than not. "I confess I've never bothered to learn more. As I said, I'm German by birth, so I've never been overly concerned with the French. Besides, 1632— you've got a hundred and fifty years, give or take, before things get interesting."

[aspecialkindofwoman]

Oh, things were plenty interesting where Milady was concerned. "I've never had much interest in the Germans," she answers blithely, a flash of amusement in her eye. At the mention of Richelieu, of course, she sobers some. He had been a good compatriot until he wasn't. She drinks to him, though she knew that his love of France was never quite equal to his love of power.

"And what, exactly, will happen in 150 years?"

[morethanhuman]

Now Erik grinned, the broad slice of teeth that used to make Raven shudder theatrically in pretend fear. "Well, that would be telling, wouldn't it?"

He sipped his drink again, enjoying having gotten her to show some curiosity in their banter. "But if you're dying to know, there's a well-appointed library at the other end of this floor. Lots of history books." And computers with the internet, but he would let some other hapless soul try to teach her about that.

[aspecialkindofwoman]

Milady de Winter plus the internet might just be the End Times.

"Why, thank you, then, monsieur," she said with a wry archness. "Both for implying that my time - and place? - is boring and that you do not wish to elaborate on what you already have hinted at."