Summary:Peter and Thea get together for dinner, catch up, and talk about interesting things. Plus, idiots! Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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The invite would be extended, dinner on her, he got to pick what kind of food. She'd sent him an address and told him it was a civilian style dinner, and please dress accordingly.
Thea had arrived several minutes early to confirm their reserved table, having called and made a specific request for one in a corner - ala Han Solo. She doesn't have the Spidey Sense, after all.
Her bronze-blonde hair is loose in soft waves, the dress a designer number in understated navy, high heels a shimmery silver that matches her other accessories.
She would have ordered several appetizers, to make sure Peter got to try things he may not have before, even growing up in New York, which Thea considers one of the best places in the world for availibility of a wide array of food.
Peter stepped in a few minutes after Thea had arrived. He was ten minutes late. And by the slight limp he was displaying on the way in, Thea could guess what kind of delay it was.
He had dressed for the occasion. White button-down shirt with long sleeves, brown blazer, black slacks, shined formal shoes. His short hair was only slightly tousled, but it gave his face an earnestness.
He spotted Thea and smiled, making his way over to her and slipping past a waiter carrying drinks without spilling a drop. He had a satchel in one hand.
Thea will look up at Peter over her before dinner apertif, one brow arching. There's a faint sigh, an expression of mild sisterly frustration. She's seated with her back to the wall, and there's another seat at an angle to protect his back as well. "Have a seat, take a look at the menu. What would you like to drink?" She means water or soda or lemonade. She's not about to let him imbibe underage… not in public.
Peter sat down, smiling sheepishly. "Uhm, do they have iced tea here?" he asked politely, picking up a menu. "I was thinking about getting and ArnoOHmygosh. 'To Start, To Follow, To Finish?' Jeez…uhm…okay…I dunno what half of this stuff is…"
Thea will signal the waiter, to order Peter an iced tea, before she's ordering Barbaietole, the Fegatini, the Tutto Crudo, and the Trippa for their starters. The waiter doesn't even look twice at her ordering multiple appetizers for just the two of them.
She watches the waiter go, a smile at Peter. "I'll just order things I know to be delicious and you can try what looks good to you." She's sitting back in her chair, blue-gray eyes looking over the other diners, the wait staff. "How have you been?"
Peter ohs, then smiles a little wider. "Better. I think I'm ready for when classes start in the fall."
Speaking of falls, Thea would noticed a slight thickness in his left arm. A look with Thea-Vision would reveal the simple fracture of the upper arm, wrapped tightly in a bandage. She can also see it is healing rapidly. The break might be gone completely by the time dessert arrives.
"Not to mention that we had a breakthrough with the hip-replacement project. If all goes well, Aunt May can have the surgery before the end of summer."
She looks at him, and he will notice her studying his upper left arm. There's a faint warmth as she will just boost the already speedy healing. "Excellent. And before the end of summer? That's impressive. I will make sure to set up meal delivery and a house cleaning service, when you tell me she's having her surgery, so she can recover in peace."
She sips from her glass, manicured nails drumming lightly on the table cloth. "So, I had a meeting with .. Ironheart, and her.. inspiration. I was going to wait, but.." She will reach into her small clutch purse, withdrawing a small business card. She will slide it over to him. "The handwritten number is a directly line to Anthony Stark. I told him of a brilliant engineering young hero I know, and he's interested in helping.. fund ideas."
Peter blinked. He looked at the card as if it were made of gold. Which, considering whose number was on it, it might as well have been.
"Wait…hold up." He leans a little closer to Thea, his shoulder brushing against hers. "TONY STARK wants to meet SPIDEY?" He looks stunned, quite frankly. He is aware of the note he spotted in the file with his resume in it, the ones marked DO NOT HIRE. It was why he was working for Kate Kane, instead of Tony Stark. Because Kane Industries had a more liberal stance on the relatively-independent work of a lab tech whose attendance could be…eccentric.
What had the HR lady said when she thought he couldn't hear her? Oh, yeah. "We have our quota of unreliable genuises, and ONLY because HE owns the company."
"And he actually wants to spend money on Spider-Man?" he asks, his voice quiet, yet furtive.
Thea will look at him, a slight curving of her lips. "Well, he knows who Ironheart has been spending some time with. He wants to meet, and discuss possible funding. I just got you the number, a foot in the door. I can't promise anything, of course." Then again, Tony may want to be nice to the kid that his personal healer is so fond of.
"Just… show him like you've shown me. How smart you are, how inventive, how passionate you are about helping people, and helping other people help you help them." Thea says. She has confidence in Peter, and it's obvious.
Peter sits back, his face blank for a few long moments. "Wow…uhm, wow. Thanks, Thea. That's…pretty awesome of you. And Ironheart." He falls quiet, frankly amazed. He expected Tony to go ga-ga over Riri, she was a genius is ways he's never been. But himself? It's almost too much to believe.
And then he looks at Thea's slight smile, and her belief in him makes it real.
This moment is amazing. Which means…
There is a small grunt of effort, and then the contents of Tutto Cioccolato broadsides Peter, coating him from neck to waist in chocolate mousse, chocolate ice cream, and chunks of brownie. Peter freezes at this. Chocolate is not lethal, so his Spider-Sense didn't even twinge. His shirt and pants have escaped damage, but the blazer is a total loss.
Peter looks at a guy maybe a couple of years older, wearing much more expensive clothes, and a fake-genuine smile. "Whoops," he says, a slight slur in his voice.
Thea is on her feet, and eyes that had been warm and affectionate moments ago are cold and sharp. Her hand doesn't slip into her purse, but her hands are clenching. "Whoops indeed. Do you mind explaining yourself? I'll take your information and forward you the dry cleaning bill." Peter may not be dressed expensively, but Thea certainly is.
The young man, a rather handsome bloke wearing Armani, stands up and smiles. "Oh…sorry about that. I saw something that spooked me…" He smirks to his friends, then says, "I guess because I saw a rat. A BIG one. Rats like that shouldn't be in nice places like this."
Another young man steps up, looking to the first. "Jimbo, c'mon." He smiles sympathetically to Thea. "He's just drunk, s'all. He got accepted to Harvard, and we're just celebrating." He gives Thea a sad look, but he is only speaking to Thea. He's not looking at Peter, who is slipping out of the blazer and looking oddly untouched underneath. Then again, Thea is much easier on the eyes, and didn't get so much as a drop on her.
"That still doesn't excuse it." Her jaw is tight, as she steps up to the Armani wearing asshole. "If you have an issue with my choice of dining companion, you have an issue with me." Her chin will tip up. "Your name and number, now, so you can pay for his dry cleaning bill. Or we can take it outside, so I can instruct you on how to have the manners your parents clearly didn't." And lord she means it, the way her one hand fists, muscles of her forearm shifting under the skin.
Jimbo smiles, taking out his wallet. He takes out five hunder-dollar bills. "Ah'lllll do ya one better. Here. Can use it to buy a coat from someplace other than Goodwill." He tosses them at Peter. The wallet, still stuffed with bills doesn't yet go back into his pocket.
Then the manager shows up, looking very distressed. He speaks in rapid Italian that he will comp her meal or Peter's, that they will have another table on the private patio set up for them.
Jimbo frowns. "What? The Princess and the Pauper get the VIP treatment?"
"Sit down, you ass," his friend tells him quickly.
"Maybe Harvard would like to know about the sort of young man they just accepted. I'm sure someone is catching this on their cell phone. These sort of things reflect badly on Ivy Leagues, and they've gotten very, very aware of their public reputation.
She turns towards the manager, flushing. She doesn't speak Italian fluently, and there's a hand lifted towards him. There's a slant of an angry look given to the drunk. "No, the politician's daughter and the photojournalist are being treated well to try and make up for your deplorable behavior. Unless you prefer to step outside and have it recorded how the girl kicked your rude ass."
Jimbo peered at her as if she were speaking in Pig Latin. He is about to say something when he is nearly TACKLED by his friend. "Jesus, Jimbo, you like diving into empty swimming pools, too?"
Peter stood up slowly, looking at his trashed blazer, then begins picking up the crumpled hundreds, mashing them into a ball before dropping them in Jimbo's lap. "I'm not going to take your money. Today, you have to PAY for being a jerk."
He looked to Thea and smiled, the same wry smile he's worn a hundred times before. "Let's go. I hear the view is quite nice."
She will look at Jim's friend. "You need to find a higher class of friend." She will reach up and just flick the end of Jim's nose. "Now apologize to my friend, you overgrown imbecile. Armani would be ashamed to be dressing such a… " She uses Arabic to form a truly insulting string of words… if one understood Arabic.
She looks at Peter with a sigh. "I'm sorry. I really, really just wanted to kick his ass." Peter probably knows she could, powers or no. "Do you want to go out on the patio, or would you prefer we get food delivered?" She's already decided she needs to get Peter some more dress clothes.
Peter chuckles. "It's kinda hot for a blazer out on the patio anyway, I'll be fine."
The manager, aware that Thea and Peter aren't planning to leave, tells them (with the help of a waiter) that their food will be brough out to them as soon as it is made. The waiter bows slightly, then leads the way past the sign that says VIP/RESERVED and steps out on the patio.
The view is not just nice, it's about as good a view of the skyline that one can see without superpowers. Peter walks over to the table, pulling out a chair for Thea.
She moves out onto the patio, her shoulders stiff with anger still. "I'm sorry. I feel a little responsible. Are you sure I can't just .. make him sick? I mean, I could force him outside to kick his ass, nd defend your honor." There's a faint smile as she takes the seat Peter holds for you. "I will get you a new blazer."
Peter sat down, still smiling wryly. "Truth is, I kinda *did* get that blazer from Goodwill. Cost me $20. But if it cost me $20 to see a view like this at the VIP section of a restaurant…I guess you could say I got a pretty good deal, eh?"
"I don't care if you picked it out of a dumpster. He had no right." Thea is fuming. "You're a human being who is more than worthy of respect. That guy doesn't have Tony Stark interested in hearing about ideas and things. He's just another rich schmuck."
Peter shrugs. "Thea…just let it go. There are a LOT of rich schmucks. And the more you think about him, the more you give him control he doesn't even know he has. Food'll be here in a few minutes. Forget the schmuck and look at that awesome sight. It's dusk and all the lights of New York are going to flicker on soon…"
"I just… " Thea shrugs. "I think you've noticed I don't like people being classist." She will sit back, and take several deep breaths to push the anger away. "I don't like seeing good people judged by someone who hasn't a percent of your… goodness."
A hand lifts, tucking her hair behind her ear as she sips from her drink she'd brought with them. "So, how is everything else? Beyond the ..usual." She means the web slinging, of course.
Peter chuckles. "College starts soon. Work is…well, great, really. And Helena…jeez, it's like I'm meeting a new sibling every few days. I wonder if Wayne and Kyle have a punch card. Adopt their tenth kid, get a free ice cream from Cold Stone." He looks thoughtful. "I was thinking of something we could do, at least once. Are you a good ballroom dancer?"
"Well, the certainly have the money to take in and adopt that many. So long as they're treating them all right, it's great." Thea shrugs, as their appetizers are all brought to the table, along with a pair of small tasting style plated.
She's thoughtfully considering what she wants when he asks that question. "Why, do you need some lessons, or something? I've been taught, yes."
Peter smirks. "Actually, my Aunt May taught me. For years, she and Uncle Ben and I would listen to old big-band music and Aunt May would teach me how to dance." He gazed fondly at the tiny dots of light that begin to wink on both in the skyline and in the sky overhead. "After Uncle Ben was killed, it was me and Aunt May…dealing with the loss, I think. And my footwork has improved quite a bit in the last year." He winks.
Thea pauses in eating, looking at him. "Wait. You want to go ballroom dancing with me?" She'd thought he had meant to go with Helena. She will take a bite, watching him a moment. "I like dancing. I don't remember the last time I went ballroom other than a job."
Peter nods, taking a bite of the Tutto Manzo. "Mmm…well, the reason I'm asking you is…well, I thought you might enjoy it. I do spend a lot of time, and…well…I get the feeling you haven't had very many good times. So i'd like to do things you enjoy with you."
Her face goes fairly unreadable as she just takes little bites of small servings of everything. "I enjoy the time I spend with you, you know." She's looking down at her plate, hiding her eyes behind lowered lashes. "When I was really young, I had a lot of good times. Good memories." It's barely above a whisper. "It was only after my mother died that.. most of my fun went away, too."
Peter looks to Thea. He nods, saying nothing. He gets it, though. His world went dark for awhile after Uncle Ben died.
He tries one of the other appetizers, but grimaces. Raw fish, not matter how well-made, was not his jam. He looked to Thea, then said, "I wish there was something I could do for you."
Thea looks at him, surprised. "Do for me? You take me around town with you, and you know I enjoy it. I don't need anyone to do for me, Peter. I need to do for others." It's her trying to resist the impulse to go back to her old ways, taking 'jobs'.
Peter suddenly looks thoughtful. "I wonder what it would take for an alternative to the wingsuit, to give you actual wings. Metal ones, but with turbofans…" His mind is doing that working thing again. Like watching a Cray supercomputer work…
She will smirk. "Maybe you should bring it up to Stark. It might be some fun, genius male bonding." She will eat the raw fish dish, since Peter doesn't like it. She will order several entrees when the waiter returns to refill their drinks.
"But if you want to go out and just,.. I don't know, hang out sometime, I'd be good with that. It's not like I date."
Peter nods. "Sure. I'd like that. And I would feel a little better knowing you are enjoying life." He looks down. "Okay…this Fegatni tastes pretty good, but I need you to do me a favor. DON'T tell me what's in it."