Red Rover [IC]

[alderwitch]

Bombshell (Bombshell since she was on the job even if not in costume) stepped up the stairs of the Interceptors Brownstone. She was dressed like the heroine in some old spy movie, from the over-sized sunglasses to the trench coat belted at her waist. She took the steps quickly despite the silly high peep toes that probably cost Elena a pretty penny and tapped on the door with the back of her knuckles. She knew full well that it was their secret headquarters, after all, she'd been to the pool party. But it would have been rude to show dressed up in 'work clothes'. Secrets, after all, were important. She pulled the glasses down to wink at the peep hole, figuring that there was a video relay. Everyone had video relays these days.

"Can Jack come out to play? I do promise to have him home by bed time. Thieves' honor." She slid the glasses back up to her nose and smiled a Cheshire cat's smile. "Or should I just let myself in?"

[Gizmo]

There was a short pause, followed by muffled sounds of movement and loud voices, moving upward through the brownstone apartment building. After another pause, wood scraping against brick drew Bombshell's attention upward as a second story window slid open and a lithe form smoothly stepped out and into the air. Finishing tugging on a light brown coat with a thick wool lining as he somersaulted downward, the young man known as Jack of all Blades landed lightly at the base of the short stairway in front of the door, just behind the classically disguised heroine. Straightening immediately, he nonchalantly smoothed the white, sleeveless shirt under the heavy jacket and ran a hand through his dusty brown hair with a boyish grin. "Oh, hey 'Shelly. Fancy running into you here."

[alderwitch]

"Hello, sweetie," Bombshell smiled at him, looking far too pleased with herself. If the Scarab had been here, she would have been immeadately suspicious. However, Elena was busy and while the cat's away... "Fancy a walk? There is an absolutely delightful exhibit at this charming art gallery. It's only a few blocks away. I think you'll really be... blown away. Shall we?"

[Gizmo]

Jack had been planning on fitting in a training session before his nightly patrol, but of late he'd hit a plateau with the Wreck Room's automated sequences and the rest of the team were otherwise occupied. "Mama Blades' favourite son never could say no to an invitation from a beautiful lady," he replied, spreading his arms in a wry flourish. He didn't completely trust Bombshell, but he didn't completely trust most people and in her case, she made it work for her. "Lead on."

[alderwitch]

"Oh, good," Bombshell beamed at him and took his arm, swaying against him as she headed down the stairs with her hand lightly on his arm. The nails, like her lips, were a crimson red, "I do so prefer company. Not to mention Elena gets just a touch fretful when I'm left to my lonesome in large buildings filled with old and expensive things. This one has paintings from turn of the century France which I rather thought would be right up your alley. We'll be there right at closing time but that won't be a problem. Finding somewhere to hide might be. How do you feel about supply closets?"

[Gizmo]

"I get the impression I'm about to develop really strong feeling about them," Jack replied smoothly, only his ingrained dexterity preventing him from tripping over his own feet at the question. Hoo boy. Keep it together, Espadas. Tucking his free hand into the pocket of his coat against the cold, he gave the knockout blonde a sidelong glance. "Speaking of which, don't you think 'my girlfriend can turn your brain into rice pudding' is something that maybe should have come up before Lynn's party?"

[alderwitch]

"Ah, but where would the fun in that have been? The look on your face was absolutely priceless!" Bombshell informed him, a wicked little grin playing about her lips and she gave his hip a little bump. Still amused, she looked forward and pressed the button for the crosswalk before looking back up at him. "Elena has many rules for me but fidelity has never been one of them. More like 'grand theft is not a game, Talya'. To be perfectly frank, Elena finds the effort of keeping me entertained exhausting and is pleased to outsource it in order to be the busy little hero. She is quite secure in her place in my affections."

She stepped into the street and added, "So, your brain matter is quite safe even if you continue to have naughty thoughts. I do hope you are having naughty thoughts, or I will have to reconsider my wardrobe. Have you wondered yet just what I've got on under this coat yet?"

Bombshell tilted her head at him, almost as if she were asking about the weather. "Ah, there it is then."

The gallery was a coverted warehouse from the facade, with a few people trickling in and out in the twilight fall weather, bundled up much like the disguised heroic couple.

[Gizmo]

"I like my brain, 'Shelly," Jack insisted despite the smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "It's where I keep all my best witty banter." Admittedly, the little ball of lapsed Catholic guilt was less about fear of telepathic repercussion and more about discomfort at being, charitably, the 'other woman' in this scenario. Being the only person involved who wasn't entirely fine with it didn't actually help much. "To be fair, I wasn't thinking that much about your clothes in the first place."

[alderwitch]

"Who said I was talking about clothing, sweet boy?" Bombshell responded with a quick grin before she turned to pay their fare into the snobby little art gallery and picked up a brochure. It was one of those wine, cheese and arrogance affairs, with waiters circling with small platters of both and people who had likely little awareness of what they were looking at save for the dollar and bragging value of the work. "Now, banter aside for the moment. This little affair is a private collection owned by a rich recluse. Always a bad sign first off. He wishes he'd been able to afford Édouard Manet but he had to settle for a meager collection of Georges-Pierre Seurat's mixed in with a few less well known impressionists and post impressionists. So, of this collection, you would think that the Seurat's would have the best security on them, n'est-ce pas?"

Bombshell's French accent was impeccable and faintly Parisian to the trained ear. Which was unsurprising, really, as she'd spent years as a wartime spy. If anything, Bombshell had time to perfect another language or three. "Instead, the only one of these oh-so-very expensive paintings that happens to actually have state of the alarms and a tracking device hidden in its frame... is a rather amateur and tiny painting that was created by a painter that had the ill-grace to die of cholera before he acquired any talent. Funny, don't you think? Oh, I do so love a good mystery."

[Gizmo]

Jack may have been woefully underdressed for the event, but he had the feeling that there weren't many places he wouldn't be admitted to with Talya on his arm. "Pfft, yeah, Sew-rah, hate that guy," he nodded with an exaggerated scoff. "I like that one who paints the soup cans." Hopefully Bombshell hadn't brought him along for his keen insight into classical painting, but he did manage to catch onto her meaning from the context. "So the painting's not just a painting, then."

[alderwitch]

"Andy Warhol? I had the pleasure once of meeting him but Ace stole the spotlight as usual. Understandable, he was much more into Ace's crowd at the time than mine, if you know what I mean." Bombshell murmured as she glanced around for the painting in question and started to guide them both that direction, moving through the crowd with an ease born of practice. "But you're right, the painting must be something more than a painting. So, why put it out in the first place and guard it so carefully? A trap, maybe? I honestly have no idea."

She smiled up at him, pausing to grab a glass of wine from the tray. "I just happened to notice it when I was passing through. I've always had an eye for security systems. Old habits and all that. I am *relatively* certain that I could have borrowed it to solve the mystery but I'm certain that would have resulted in a good scold. As fun as those can be, I get tired of writing notes of apology. I might be reformed but I still have my pride. So... we'll have to think of something else. Hence, the supply closet question."

[Gizmo]

"Work, work, work," Jack sighed, deftly snagging a trio of toothpick-skewered block of cheese from a the tray of a passing waiter who clearly had no intention of stopping for the stubble wearing anomaly. Popping one of them into his mouth and twirling the leftover splinter of wood around his fingers, the swashbuckler nodded amiably. "Alright, shenanigans have been called. But I'm going to notice if anything else is missing when we're done," he warned her.

[alderwitch]

"Oooh, shall you frisk me or shall we cut straight to the manacles and the 'Where did you hide the painting, you naughty, naughty criminal?'." Bombshell teased, sipping her wine. Her eyes twinkled at him over the glass as she'd slipped her sunglasses into the pocket of her trench coat. "Now, let's find someplace to slip off to until things quiet down a bit. Any suggestions?"

[Gizmo]

"Well, frisk really implies you'd be wearing-- ...aheh," Jack began then trailed off with a broad, rueful grin, closing his eyes for a moment as he tipped his chin downward. "Dios, I am not used to being the one corrupted by a bad influence." Depositing the remaining cheese atop the fresh platter of a disgruntled caterer, he shrugged. "Well, I've always been a hid in plain sight kinda guy. I say we go with 'inappropriate PDA couple' until we spot a good place to hole up past closing."

[alderwitch]

Bombshell chuckled and added her half full wine glass to the tray along with his cheese and then reached down to twine her fingers with his. "Oh, I just knew you'd be a good partner for this little caper. I do so enjoy the way your mind works."

She lifted their linked hands up and stepped into him but with the curve of her body, she made the simple act look down right illicit. Bombshell, after all, was masterful at making things look uncomfortably intimate. A tact she'd used many, many times in the past. Nothing flustered a hero faster than inappropriate touching and a few innuendos. Well, most of the time at least. It was effective for the boy scouts of her era. This one, well, it was just more complicated.

"Now, let's see. I think your shoulders are too broad for an airduct, don't you think?" She murmured, letting her other hand rest on his chest as she peeked over his shoulder to scan the room with bright eyes. "Unless you're really extraordinarily flexible."

[Gizmo]

"Oh, I can get myself into all sorts of positions, with the right motivation," Jack assured her, letting his voice drop the better part of an octave and slipping a bit more accent into his enunciation. "Course, I do my best work when I've got some space to stretch, move around." The swordsman's free hand found its way to the small of the ex-thief's back, pulling her toward him with just enough pressure to be encouraging but not confining.

[alderwitch]

Bombshell stepped into him, one heeled foot landing lightly between his and her thigh pressed to his as her hand went to his shoulder almost as if they were dancing. She tilted her head back to meet his eyes, the heels putting them almost on even footing for once. "Oh, well, we certainly have to have you at your best, don't we? No assigning handicaps for the first round and all that. It's hardly sporting."

She was most certainly not talking about golf. Bombshell leaned into him, the other hand still pressed to his chest between them. Now there were starting to be uncomfortable coughs and people shifting a little away from their corner. Bombshell lowered those red lips to the hollow under his jaw, her voice a low mumur, "I'm certainly not hiding in a restroom stall. Far too juvenile at this point. I vote we find where they keep the wine. Cool, dark and quiet if they know what they're doing."

[Gizmo]

"I like the implied confidence there'll be more than one round," Jack told her with a sly grin, self-assured charm backing up his words. "I'm nothing if not a good sport." He tilted his chin upward slightly and let the hand on her back slide in the same direction, pulling some of the fabric of her trenchcoat up with it. "Wine's coming out of the doors to your right," he murmured quietly as the breath from her suggestion blew lightly over his throat. "Convenient; could really use a drink just now."

[alderwitch]

"You and me both." Bombshell agreed as she glanced over her shoulder surreptitiously. As her fingers traced down over the fabric of his shirt, bunching it slightly under her questing fingertips, her gaze sharpened on the patterns of the movement around that door watching where and how the people moved. She turned her face back to his jawline and pressed a soft kiss to the pulse point there, her words hidden against his skin, "Is anyone watching or have they all started to shift uncomfortably away? When the next waiter comes out, we'll be clear behind you."

[Gizmo]

Jack let out a nearly silent, breathy chuckle as Bombshell's question buzzed against the stubble on his neck. "Oh, I'd say we've made an impression," he answered, moving his hand further up he back until it was obscured my honey blonde locks. With the other hand entwined with the ex-spy's, he leaned forward, supporting her weight while giving them both a better view as a waiter walked quickly by, pointedly avoiding looking in their direction. "You'd think they'd appreciate performance art."

[alderwitch]

"Ah, the downside of a life of secrecy. There's no one there to applaud. Well, perhaps it is better with a smaller audience. At least you can be sure they appreciate the work." Bombshell agreed, pressing a quick kiss to his neck before she feinted away with a teasing laugh that was while entirely keeping with the charade, not feigned. She slipped through the door as if they were sneaking of to a private rendezvous, letting it swing back open for him to follow. Everyone studiously avoiding looking their direction would assume it was to find a quieter alcove. Which it was, but no one here was going to guess the actual reason why.

The storage area was really perfect for finding a dark alcove for whatever reason. It was full of boxes, not just wine but what seemed to be random storage for the event outside and poorly lit, with the boxes and stacks making narrow, twisting paths through. "I do love when they scrimp on the back areas. Awfully cluttered, however."

[Gizmo]

Jack took a moment to look upward as he smoothly followed Bombshell into the back room. ""

Stepping into the back room, he adjusted his wool lined jacket against the slightly chillier dimness and moved about slowly, taking stock. Presumably this was where all of the gallery stored its exhibits when they weren't on display or under better security; there might be something relevant to be seen, though the swashbuckler wasn't really used to coming at a situation from the perspective of a burglar.

[alderwitch]

As Jack peered around the gloom, he would notice the faintly discordant hum of ambient energy, entirely out of place with any art gallery. Focusing his preternatural senses would reveal several locuses for that signature scattered around them and hidden in crates, upwards of twenty five in total. The energy itself was not dissimilar to the cosmic power of Dark Star, although thankfully, smaller in scale.

"Now that is funny," Bombshell walked those long, elegant fingertips over one old crate and lifted them up to examine, "A run down storage area with some very clean 'old' crates. As Alice once said, 'curiouser and curioser'."

Bombshell reached for the belt of her trench coat, fingers working the buckle. She shrugged it off her shoulders to reveal the base of her costume. A few adjustments and she was black clad and ready for work. Bombshell went to pull up the hidden zipper in the front, "I really did love those shoes. Ah, the price of heroism."

[Gizmo]

"Something's hinky..." Jack informed her, brow furrowing as he tried to cast his senses further outward. "Sorta music of the spheres only swirly lights..." He looked from the crates to Bombshell. "What's the name of the painting of the night sky only all twisty? The one they always make posters of? Like that." He gestured in small circles to facilitate his description.

[alderwitch]

"Vincent Van Gogh's Starry Night?" Bombshell asked after watching his jazz hands for a moment, a smile playing about her lips, "Extra-sensory perceptions? Well, aren't you just full of surprises! Can you tell where it's coming from?"

She slipped her mask over her face and blinked at him once from behind it as she adjusted before she started to slink through the boxes, her gaze flicking over the crates with renewed interest.