2019-09-23 - Checking Up On Miss Brant


Hank checks up on Betty at work after their prior meeting.

Log Info:

Storyteller: None
Date: Mon Sep 23 00:21:15 2019
Location: RP6 - Daily Bugle - News Room

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Theme Song



Early morning, The Daily Bugle - all is hustle and bustle about the enterprising publication. In truth, it's not the biggest the city has to offer, but it has its loyal readers and continues to keep them, or grown them, for over decades now. This was the baby, this was the kingdom of J. Jonah Jameson, and his chaotic castle runs like clockwork. Sometimes.


"Yes, chief?"

"I'm going to be stuck in a meeting all morning. Can you go down to Joey's for me and get - "

"Chief, I'm working on the DZ article that you, might I add, asked me to do personally."

If it was possible for the older man to pout, he just might. Instead, he balks at Betty, staring her way with loss.

"Betty," he softens. "I know I could get that new kid, Reggie? Ronnie?"


"That's it! Whatever it is, I could send him but he just…gets it all wrong. How about I…extend your lunch break and you get me what I like?"

Smirking, Betty relents, giving a nod of her head. "Alright, Chief. I'll head out shortly." She moves to exit the room with a light limp in her step before turning and pointing in his direction. "Take your pills. Large bottle on the left, red and pin label. Two, with water." A pause, "WATER, Jonah." The man mutters after her as she closes the door to his office.

A giggle later, Betty's shaking her head and reclaiming her desk that sits just outside of the man's office. Shuffling a few bundles of paper to the side of her desk, she begins looking through her messages, a writing program up and ready for her article's continuing composition.

Early morning, The Daily Bugle's entrance - there's a bit of a stir at the security desk when just shy of six feet of blue furred Beast amble in with a bag some sort of baked goods, and approaches. Hank can be rather persuasive, so after some discussion and a bit of tech support (the guy's cellphone was having an issue!), one visitor's pass is provided and he's allowed to head up to the News Room.

There's a fair amount of stares wherever he goes, because - FUR, he's /actually/ furry, and he's also somewhat well known by some folks, not too many, but some - he's a globally famous scientist, which…is not all that widely noticed, really.

Unfailingly polite he holds the elevator door for the two people riding the car up with him, and then enters the bustling news room to seek a familiar face. "Ah, there she is."

Target acquired, Hank makes his way through the room. He's dressed in plain khaki pants, rather large shoes, and a shirt sleeved button down shirt of amber as he approaches. "Hello Miss Brant, good morning." That deep rumbling voice? Yeah, quite distinctive.

Betty Brant , who is wearing glasses it seems when using the computer, looks up from over their brim, an instant smile touching her eyes as her ruby lips curve upward. "Doctor McCoy!" She greets, moving to stand and pulling the specs away from her face. Her attire is fit for the floor - black skirt, fitted and matte, with a loose blouse, ruffled and a pale shade of blue. Normally, the woman wouldn't be caught dead without her lucky red pumps, but today, she's still in a pair of black flats. Her hair is lightly tossled and if not by smell, by sight, the Beast can see that those colors on her wrist and throat were either healed, or more likely covered by an application of make up.

"Good morning! Um, I'd…ask you to have a seat but these chairs, well…Anyway, how are you? What can I do for you?"

"Oh, that's all right, Miss Brant. I'm used to standing." Hank really is, too. He's pretty heavy, a lot of chairs, heck, some desks might not enjoy the experience of Beast bulk!

"Well, I was in the area anyway after a speaking engagement at Columbia, and thought I might check in on you. And since I was a tad peckish, I thought you might like to share some bagels with me?"

Yes. He brought bagels! The bag is unmarked, and there's a bit of discoloration, when he opens the bag the scent of fresh bagel goodness is quite lovely indeed.

"And since I knew I'd be coming to a /news room/, I arranged for more for your co-workers, I hope that is alright?"

In fact the delivery is just arriving downstairs!

It didn't matter if some in the News Room were pro or anti mutant - with the promise of free food, everyone seems joyously happy. So much so, the stir causes Jameson to exit his office and bark out at the collective. "HEY! GET BACK TO WORK! I DON'T PAY YOU PEOPLE TO STUFF YOUR FACES!" A pause, his blue eyes settle on Hank. He looks the man up and down, then eyes Betty, and back again. Reaching out, he snatches the paper bag and then returns to his office. Not a moment later, Betty has a call on her speakr.


Apologetic in face, Betty bites at her bottom lip. "Sorry, excuse me." She pushes the button, "Yes, Chief?"

"Cream cheese and chives, please."

"Yes, Chief." Pulling her finger off the button, she sighs and laughs nervously toward Hank. "I'm so sorry. Really, it's amazing what you did and I can pay you back if you'd like." Consideration given, she looks around and toward the elevator. "Would you like to grab a coffee with me? I'll do the drink run while everyone is occupied." A smile, "I'll buy you something to eat, too."

Hank is a little bemused when JJJ storms in and then absconds with the half dozen bagels. Blue eyes tracking the man, and then turning back to Betty's infinitely preferable visage with a rumbling that resolves itself to a laugh. "Should we tell him that there's cream cheese coming with the order? And lox? Or just leave and let him figure it out on his own…" Hank seems okay with that prospect.

In fact when she offers to buy him something to eat during the coffee run he smiles. "How about we go Dutch?" To Hank's mind JJJ is the one who should be buying, not Betty.

Either way, he offers the lady a gentlemanly hand up. Of course she has no need of such, but…that's what he'd do. He really is a throw back to an earlier, more civilized age.

No, no blasters!

"I'll have Lucy give him a few. Or…" She thinks on it a moment and then stands, with the aid of Hank's hand. "Renaldo? Can you bring Mr. Jameson some cream cheese with chives, please? There will be some on the delivery coming up. Give him four, honey. No more, no less. Four." The younger kid with a messy mop of dark hair just smiles and nods to Betty, "Of course, Miss Brant!" And off he goes.

"Funny, that kid makes me miss Peter." A shrug, she looks to Hank and then nods. "After you." Pulling away to claim her bag, she slips it across her torso and then follows after him toward the elevator.

After offering the pass back at the front desk, and taking a coffee order, Betty exits to street level with the big blue ball of brains. "What would you like to eat?" She inquires offering a much more chipper persona than the one he met mearly days ago. "Oh, how was your…lecture? Were you teaching or speaking at Colubia?"

"He seems like a good kid, Renaldo." Hank smiles. "I don't know Peter, though, exceptional was he?"

He inclines his head to Betty as he releases her hand and is motioned to take the lead, he DOES, however, get every door en route.

Hank walks with ridiculously long and beefy arms behind him, left wrist gripped by right hand. "Anything is fine, it is morning, so I thought breakfast, but I can happily do other fare if you'd rather."

"As to Columbia, it was a speaking engagement followed by questions and answers, the topic probably not anything you'd find all that stimulating since it had to do with enzyme synthesis using a process I had patented." That sounds /thrilling/. Not.

"But…enough about me, how are you doing? That was the whole point of my visit, to see how you were."

"He is. I wish he'd call me Betty, but…what can you do for manners, hmm?" A smirk, she then smiles softly and nods again. "Peter? His last name is Parker. Brilliant boy - he'll go far, I know it. Honestly, if I could get him to speak with you it'd be amazing."

Now by his side, she strides slowly, careful and light on her steps, perhaps nursing a different wound all together. At least it doesn't seem to bring her pain.

"Enzyme synthesis? What are you trying to bring about with the synthesis?" She inquires - apparently interested. "Me?" Her face paints pink, head forward and slightly down. "You didn't have to do that, really. A phone call would have been fine. You're busy, after all. But…I'm ok. Not alright yet or fine, but ok. I'll go with that for now." A pause and tick back, she smiles brighter and looks his way. "I love breakfast. Pastries and pancakes and waffles are a direct line to my heart."

"I could challenge him to a duel." Hank quips and IS /clearly/ not even a fractional-iota serious. "Peter Parker?" Hank nods. "Give him my contact information, is he interested in Science?"

A laugh at her surprise at his coming by to see her specifically. "Well, sure, a phone call /could/ have done the trick, but then I'd probably be driving back to Westchester instead of about to have a meal with a charming young lady of rare literary talent, though also a slight limp." That part doesn't seem to please him all that well, and there's a definite questioning tone.

"And actually the direct path to your heart would be the superior and inferior vena cava." Hank grins. "But I won't quibble. Breakfast it is."

"Interested? He use to live and breathe that stuff. If he still does I'm sure he'll give you a call." Pulling up her phone, she sends off a message and then puts the screen away once more. "Sorry, just thought I'd message him while thinking about it."

The question about her limp? That causes her to clears her throat. "I-ah, during the conflict there was some glass on the floor. I'm pretty much healed up, but it's a bit tinder." A pause, "I miss my pumps." A light frown, she then starts laughing at the mixture of wooing and biological fact. "Well, I'd argue and say it's through my breast-bone." A grin, she nods and turns off toward a corner diner. "Breakfast it is."

"Well then, I can't wait to speak to him. There's few things I love more than education, it is a tremendously satisfying thing to help a young mind reach for the stars." Not that Hank's exactly old and decrepit at /twenty-three/. He's young to have ONE PhD, and he holds several. Pretty well unprecedented. He has no problem letting her text.

"I assume you've had a doctor look at your injury, correct?" Hank's expression is clearly concerned.

"And I'd counter that would actually miss, the heart is slightly left of center, actually, so it would have to penetrate your ribcage about here." He taps his own chest of course, because, yeah…not going to presume to tap hers! Yes, Hank's a bit of a brat. "So…have you a breakfast destination in mind? You do seem to be limping with a bit of purpose…" And much as he'd like to just pick her up and let her guide, yeah, that's worse than rib cage tapping!

It's at the point that she rolls her hazel eyes. She peers at him, squinting slightly. "I know where the heart is, I was joking…" Thankfully, she does have a destination in mind, bringing the two to a diner and slipping in. It was understated, really, one in a million that shares its same face and layout. The hit of flat grill food rolling through the slit window cannot be ignored. "Here will do." She smiles, even as she waves toward someone behind the counter calling the woman 'sweet pea'.

Claiming a booth, she brushes down her skirt, rolls up her blouse's sleeves and then smiles in Hank's direction. The comment about a doctor seeing her feet? No answer.

A warm chuckle at the squinting. "And I was teasing in turn, Miss Brant." Hank continues to walk along beside Betty, hands comfortably clasped behind him. Once they get to the diner chosen, he opens the door of course, and allows Betty to precede him. A toothy grin is offered to 'sweet pea', though he's pretty sure there's no Popeye — though — HE does have rather Popeye-esque forearms.

"Here will do indeed." He confirms, and slides into his side of the booth, though…don't think he failed to notice the no-comment about the doctor's exam.

"Really, I'm flattered you came out of your way to check up on me. You didn't have to, and I don't have anything to help your research. I'll see what I can do." She assures him, reaching back and brushing at her dirty-blonde hair, some of the runish beads clinking together.

"Anyway, so! Get anything you'd like. You got the news room food, I get you food. Anything you'd like." A smile, she leans forward, arms crossing atop the table, seeming to not need the menu. Her mind was already set. As a waitress comes their way, she places her order (vanilla chai latte) and water. After waiting for Hank's order, the waitress with a bounce in her step will eventually return for their meal order.

"It really wasn't a big deal, Betty. I was already in the city, after all." Hank smiles, bright blue eyes genuine and earnest as he says this. "And I warn you, dear lady, I have a prodigious appetite." Not that he'll abuse her offer, of course. "Well, I'm working on extracting the DNA from the samples you brought for me, so there's little enough to be done. I wouldn't ask you to get any bits of the…entity…that could be dangerous, and I don't to place you at risk."

Hank falls silent before the server approaches, and smiles genially. "Coffee, black, please." As she steps away he looks to Betty. "So…you didn't have your feet looked at. After were done here we'll take care of that." And no, he's not really making it optional, very firm is the Hank. When the waitress returns, he smiles. "Corned beef hash with scrambled eggs, Texas toast and a large OJ, please."

Betty Brant stares at that. She blinks, eyes wide, and glances around herself before sitting back. "You really don't have to do that, either. I-really, you don't. I just, uh, didn't have time to go to the clinic." Lies. Such a lie. So much so that she frowns softly and looks away from the big blue teddy bear across from herself.

Thankfully, the server returns. Smiling the older woman's way, Brant places her own order - a short stack, butter, light on syrup, scrambled eggs. Reaching out for her hot drink, she cradles it gently and pulls it closer, taking in the aroma of cinnamon and other warm spices.

"I just want to save him." She explains.

"Of course I do, Betty." And that's all Hank has to say about it. Really, it is just that simple for him. As she lies to him, Hank is gracious, and says no more. Sometimes one needs to save face, and he's okay with that. When she looks back, he's accepting his black coffee and inhales deeply of the scent, nostrils flaring and a warm sigh. "Oh, this is very fresh. Okay, will remember this restaurant, thank you, Betty."

Of course he's got super senses - he can identify someone by scent, he can certainly tell the coffee is fresh!

"Betty, he's your friend and someone you used to date. /Naturally/ you want to save him, and I'll help."

"You're welcome. It's a great place. This city is a great place." She murmurs, sipping from her mug gently, carefully. Licking away any foam, she smiles at the drink and then sits back, eyeing across to Hank once more. Use to date…The term twists up her face slightly, her eyes burn with a shimmer of gloss. "Maybe it should be that way." Thinning her lips, she glances back down and taps the mug with her nails, the tune not in line, but melodic.

"Hank, you…you do a great deal for mutants, don't you?"

"No city on Earth like New York." Hank agrees. At the woman's correction, Hank sighs very faintly. "I apologize, I didn't realize you were dating /still/." Seeing that shimmer to her eyes he produces a handkerchief, and wordlessly offers it over, white linen, HPM the monogram in the corner.

A moment to drink about half his OJ, and then he quirks a brow as she asks about mutants.

"Yes, I've been rather active in support of mutants, being one myself, and proud to be." Hank smiles. "I try to help anyone in need, but Mutants have been targeted and put at considerable risk, from government and other interest groups my whole life."

And then he quirks his head to one side. "Do you know a mutant who is in need of help?"

"No, no, it…" Chuckling, she looks at the linen and gently offers it back. "It can't stay this way. It doesn't matter in the end if we save him or…I mean, you've seen it. I don't think we can go back now." Seeming to give in to that idea, the woman swallows and sips from her mug. "So, I'll save him if it's the last thing I do…"

A blink, she nods. "Of course I do - all of you. Namely, the mutants that are part of the DZ are still in great need. From what one young man has said, some of them are being stolen away by people in lab coats, I think. I'm not sure, he didn't know much and I don't blame him for being afraid. I, well, I just want to help them, too. I figured with your work, you'd have contacts within the Mutant community. I've lost touch with Mr. Lehnsherr."

Hank tucks his hanky away, and. "No, it can't stay this way. Not if he's enslaved, tortured and doing harm to those around him." Hank meets Betty's gaze steadily, and half-grins, one fang visible over lower lip. "Excuse me, Betty…I believe /we/ will be saving him, and definitely it will not be the last thing." A nod, expression mildly wry. "Unless perhaps in the sense of 'last thing with the parasite', that I can get behind."

Hank leans back a little at Betty's passion about the DZ, and Mutant Town. "Oh yes, there's a great deal going on there. Lab coats is only the tip of the iceberg." He looks thoughtful. "I'm not sure how much I can say about it, suffice to say - they're being weaponized, and tortured. At least."

There it is, that spike of rage rolling in her eyes. It was a nice space away from her own worries yet still vastly important. "How can I help you? Them? Please, you're doing so much for me, I want to do all I can for you and yours." It did dawn on her to how many people she said that to, still, she says it.

At length, their food arrives, Betty sits back and starts slathering her hotcakes with butter. Next is syrup, a light drizzle, and a touch of salt on her eggs. "If you can't talk here, maybe somewhere else? You said you were going to check my feet, right?"

Rage that they share, honestly. Hank's gaze? Hundreds of numbers brill harder than a diamond drill bit. "Oh yes. And they'll be brought to justice, I assure you." He closes his eyes then, and it is good he did, the server returns with their food about that time. Once she's gone. "Yes, actually, we can talk in more detail though there's some confidences I cannot and will not break." A faint frisson as he lets the rage go, and then he smiles. "We can talk when I take a look at your feet."

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