[color=orange][center][h1][i][b] Friday 18:59 The Grand Cayman Hotel, Hollywood, Los Angeles [/b][/i][/h1][/center][/color] [color=gold][center][h2][i][b]Diamond Hands[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color] Sophie would blush at the comment that Alaine made, wanting to react, as more photographers mobbed them, and Lightning Girl took the hit, letting Alaine escape and get away. But before long, the team would walk over to their table, bit by bit, making their way through crowds, but before they did, the sight of two individuals caught James and Sophie's eyes. [@RisingRobin] Lightning Girl watched as Tsunami came over. Almost as if the electricity built up inside her. Was she here for revenge? To embarrass? Say something about how good it was? The words came out from Tsunami, but Lightning Girl tried to push it all down what she thought about from that night. That memory. How much it hurt, how unstable it had made her. So it felt about mutual. James twigged the conversation, looking at Sophie with a glance, as if to say, don't fuck this up. And then to Tsunami, with a nod. Like she wouldn't need to talk to James about it, because he wasn't interested in causing any more scene. Whatever this was, was between those two. It would be easy to make a scene. Say something, really kick up a storm. Sophie felt Brooke was being personal about it at least. That was the kicker, as she let down her guard, addressing the blue-haired heroine, knowing it would be hard. It would hurt her ego. But James wanted this too. No point defending him if he had moved on, so in that way, so she would too. "Apology accepted. It's okay." Sophie simply uttered, putting out her hand, ensuring the current pushed into her feet, not the rubber-lined glove, taking Tsunami's hand, almost flabbergasted. Unsure what to add. In disbelief she was actually apologising. Who the fuck was ma....ahh, there he was. Riley. That would add up, okay, what was this game? It didn't matter, as Sophie looked back to Brooke after that glance at her former dispatcher. That blue dressed water based heroine, who she swore was going to be giving her death stares, was now somehow back. And Sophie had to admit, even part of her was now second-guessing herself. "Sorry for shocking you. And nearly turning you into vapour at the bar after....what went down." There was no easy way of saying it, as she shook her head, trying not to overthink this. What was done was done. She was angry, sure, every part of her wanted to continue being that, but being a hero meant being better than that. Even Lightning Girl had to admit, she had to mature a bit. And maybe Tsunami had. Maybe Riley had convinced her, but that was usually enough. Best to accept it and move on. Sliding a drink off the table, Lightning Girl offered it to Brooke, gloved hand this time, making that abundantly clear she wasn't repeating past mistakes. "Champagne?" Meanwhile.... James put down his glass, after Tsunami and Sophie had made up, watching as the crowd parted and there was Riley, chatting to Hat Trick. And then coming over to chat to him. He had to rub his eyes. What? The former Chief Dispatcher walked over, and James had no words. "Jesus Christ. My eyes must deceive me." James joked, walking over and hugging Riley, tapping him on the shoulder. "I thought you must have really fucked up if you went to Pasadena. Good on you mate, that you got something out of it." James simply added, looking across at the team, in response to his question about things changing. "Quite a bunch. Blackstar's got dark energy powers, Asteroid controls gravity, Ikret has wings and is a demi-goddess, ish. And Lightning Girl is still....Lightning Girl." He could see her out of the corner of his eye catching up with Quickdraw, who had walked on over, with her greeting him with almost a regal pose, as he chuckled. She looked over her shoulder, catching the eye of Blackstar, smiling at her, not having anything to say and wondering if Blackstar might half understand she didn't mean at all what she meant in the limo, as Quickdraw mentioned something about his latest film, an autobiographical follow-up he'd been at the filming of today. James would turn his attention back to Riley, still amazed this was going on. "Yeah, Kat didn't tell me, which means it must have been quite secretive....and a hell of a thing." James wondered. Did this change things? A new opportunity? Or something else? "We'll catch up later. For now, do you want a drink, and yeah, meet the team?" James asked, letting the others introduce themselves to Riley, keeping a fairly short reach himself, given how the team was getting on. He felt like he wasn't quite like them, he was just a manager, nothing more, nothing less. But it was good to see old faces, and well, let them relish in the pomp and circumstance. [hr] As the team would sit there at their table, trying to mingle or keep to themselves; all while some minor slides played out on a large screen near the stage about SDN's year in numbers, grabbing canapes and wine, the Six would make their move. [@cosmiccowgirl] Lady Liberty would break through the crowd, having sought out Blackstar, catching the shy heroine off-guard, dragging over a chair to get on level, and the first of them to come on through. A bunch of other heroes would likely talk to the team, the vocals of Calliope replaced with cool lounge music she wasn't singing over, the Art-Deco themed gala room living up to expectations. "Ah, there you are. Blackstar, right?" She extended a hand, the red, white and blue dress wearing, copper-haired heroine with her usual grin. She was a little different in person to what Blackstar had likely seen on posters, but no less magnificent. "Lady Liberty, at your service. Don't be scared, I promise, just saw your name on the guestlist and had to meet you......just wanted to say hi to the person I keep seeing in the leaderboards who ain't the usual folk." Her accent was that weird blend of Colorado and Wyoming western, rural yet everything that SDN would fawn over. She would look over at the red dress, and it was clear Lady Liberty was excitable, in the way that LG might have been, though the energy seemed different. It didn't seem manic, volted up, it seemed to come from a genuinely driven place. She sighed, wondering if Blackstar was this scared because it was her, or something else. "If you're starstruck or scared, don't be. You have to clock into the same systems I do, breathe the same air. Same as everyone here. Even Technocrat has to." Lily seemed to have a way about people. She was a bit loud, a bit bombastic, but unlike the other talisman, a little more friendly. And that charisma oozed, maybe in a way that LG didn't even have quite down yet. "It's cool you're making so much hype. You join SDN, end up posting similar metrics to me by week two....you are quite somethin'. Someday you should show me how it's done if this is how good you are out of the gate, hey? Where were you before this?" Liberty was flattering her, but then again, it was the kind of person she was. [hr] [@SonnetNSunbeam] Strangely, of all people, Asteroid would find that Technocrat would decide to walk on over and draw a chair. The black suit wearing, tech-having billionaire maybe seemed a cut of Riley's cloth, but Technocrat didn't need inventions, not when he had money and confidence to throw at situations. "Ah....Asteroid, is it? You probably know me already. Lucas Aster. Technocrat. I kinda run things in Hollywood. Liberty said I should talk to you. Apparently you backed up Blackstar on a social media job that went viral. Not a bad way to get yourself known around these parts. People talk. Even small branches get recognition." His grin was one that was punchable, full of confidence, extending a hand out. "I could have sworn you're....you're someone's son I know. Dad had this religious guy who he had as a friend and he looked like you. He was a character...anyway. I wouldn't have made it as a Phoenix, so I always am impressed when someone.....defies the odds. You have to have powers, so it's a good thing I'm on the right side of the law. Sounds like they'll make you one soon so you can be, huh. Put you in the real big leagues. Do the real work." It felt like he almost was talking down to him, but that tinge of something held him back from brushing off the other hero and pretending he had other things to do. Lucas was just trying to piece together why he knew him. Technocrat would sip down his glass of organically produced, alcohol-free, seedless grape elderflower infusion with grape juice soda down, leaning against the chair, his tall, well muscled, easy looking, but when he was on the streets, anything but. "So enough about what you've heard about me. What do you think about all of this?" [hr] [@Ezekiel] Ikret would find herself in amongst the new crowd, but a certain toga-wearing, vocal-having Greek would find her way over. "Oh.....I heard stories of you. You were in DTLA a while ago, I believe? Ikra?" The Greek voice was like pouring honey onto a warm bowl as she postured Ikret's Greek name, lathering up words all pretty. She may as well have had a harp for a vocal chord, as she gently drank the almost blood-red cup of wine, arm rested on elbow with palm on chin, looking at the Egyptian-American's wings. "She has wings like those of a man I knew a long, long time ago. Flew too close to the sun and had them burnt. And now here as a Phoenix, regrown from the ashes. A falcon from fire. Shining her starlight like diamonds in a night sky, for sailors from afar to navigate by." She had a way of poetically putting it, as she looked to the group, then back to her. "Anyway, that dress should be back with your agent. You are brave....or hoping someone would notice you and your....wingspan." Calliope was not undressing her words yet slyly jabbing right under her costume, knowing that absolutely shouldn't have been with Ikret given mutual friends with mutual agents, and well, innuendo continued. Nobody else would say it, but Calliope had her fair share of time wearing Met Gala dresses, when she wasn't in a "traditional" look. Or at least, one that was effectively her costume, given everyone expected a Muse to look like this. That was good for her. Calliope liked reinvention, so the more eyes were on her like this, the less were on her when she was at her most creative. But Ikret was a Phoenix. And Calliope had an odd feeling. A strange one. Like Ikret wasn't quite honest. And her poetry had almost opened a charm, that allowed her to open up Ikret more, in a way that would be certainly be uncomfortable to Ikret. Like picking a lock on a person, her charisma had drawn Ikret in close, or at least, tried to, and now, she could get to the part of the matter that interested her most. "You are seen. Who are you trying to charm? Eyes on someone? Or you want to be a big deal again after what you did? I thought this sort of thing you wouldn't go to?" [hr] [@BigPapaBelial] Fastlane would find the taller Canadian of the group, all swanky in his purple suit, making the Caribbean-originating mustard suited man look like a pairing. Who hadn't heard of Hat Trick. Well, given half the team was over here, and he'd chatted to just about everyone, he was now over here in this part of the room, meeting this Claremont SDN team that seemed to be the talk of the town after a carnival that turned into a bloodbath, "So this is the great Hat Trick they talk about? Good to meet you." Fastlane put out his fist, as if to fistbump, chuckling. "You are the one making all the stadium noise in the East of LA. Man, you're a one man bobsleigh team. Feel de riddim, bro." He made that extremely obvious Cool Runnings gag, knowing outside of his marketing a couple months ago with that on a t-shirt, he'd had to smile his way through adopting. "But I come with a question. Some marketing ideas. Hollywood has no vision, imagination for what I have in mind.....despite what you might think. But I might hit you up sometime, me and Clara were talking about it last night. That sounds good?" Fastlane asked, knowing this was a bit of a dry proposition. But he'd quietly been seeing Hat Trick's socials, and well, putting a little bit of his brand into mind. The implication about Clara was a little underhanded, but well, being the newest of the Six and in a new city, he had found himself right at home very fast. [hr] [@RisingRobin] Black Rose would brush up against Riley, the secretive heroine of few words, though it seemed like she appeared right when she needed to. Her adaptive track on her face died down, settling on one look, the one she'd stuck to this evening rather than the one that confused every camera in the room. It was clear that her optical cloaking tech was embedded in something she had, not so much like Visi's invisibility, as it was a synthetic replacement for it. But in the hands of the ultimate fixer, that was like giving sugar to fire. "So, you told them at last." Her voice must have had a strange French, maybe almost Germanic tinge to it. Like she'd come from nowhere. She had a habit of being incredibly light footed, that much she forgot to tone down when she had to. Or maybe she enjoyed being a shit. She looked up to him, knowing he must have wondered how and what that meant. She'd twigged along for a bit. For fun. It was more fun than talking and being a socialite. This was a bit of a game for her. One she openly got away with. "I'm surprised. I thought you were going to just watch longer. But, I do admire your ability to get the most out of people who wouldn't have made the cut. Anyway. If you see Salem, tell her she needs to watch her back. Or her arm. She is good at stealing, so I hope she doesn't take it personally." She slid a personal effect of Salem's into Riley's hand, what looked like a bracelet from Salem's right hand, and looked back, the redhead in her body-glove like dress with her glass of champagne drawn as she looked back. "Relax, Riley. I won't always be over your shoulder, listening into your team's comms. I do that to the people we've been tracking. So it's only tonight I get to mess with you to stop me from being bored." She seemed to almost enjoy the tease, giving a wink before turning away, leaving him hanging on no doubt, an entire wall of confusion and with a bracelet in hand. [hr] [color=gold][center][h2][i][b]Restroom[/b][/i][/h2][/center][/color] James, in the interim of all of this going on, had headed to the restroom, or the WC, or toilet, as his Britishism remained stubborn to say. Going for a piss, that was the correct term. And finding a urinal, that he did, uncreatively, going for said piss. It was quiet inside the toilet, empty in fact. Everyone didn't want to miss out on the gala, but James had been gasping for a while. The door rattled again as he went to the end urinal, doing that thing that you did as urinal etiquette. The man that turned up went right next to him, also pissing into posh ceramic. "Nice evening, isn't it?" The voice was odd next to him, as he did everything a person could do to not lock eye contact. Stare at that blue tile on the wall. That blue tile was safe. It was security. "Yeah. Americans normally talk at urinals?" James didn't have much to say, bar brushing it off. "Say, you're James Speight, aren't you? That dispatcher from Claremont?" James was still miffed. He really, really could not place that accent. He couldn't even say what the guy looked like, because, when at a urinal, he wasn't gonna eye up the person talking, was he? "Yeah. Didn't realise you would talk to me while pissing.....and you are?" He grumbled, as the figure next to him finished up, walking away, turning on the taps, the figure looking in the mirror as James had the rest of his flask of water to continue peeing. "I just find it interesting. A long way from home. Running from something. Or is that just your sister? Keeping secrets are we?" James froze, and this time, looked. He had a black jacket on, head facing towards the door as he put his hand in the smart heater, giving James a moment to finish and turn. "Sorry, who are you?" James asked, as the man didn't look, his black hair slicked, like he had gel in it or something. James didn't confirm or deny anything. That was a wild guess. A very very wild guess? The man did not turn, he was taller than James for sure, and not much more built, but certainly like he hadn't been skipping days at the gym. "A fool does not throw stones when he lives in a glass house, James. Stay ahead while you can, before more spills out." The man would then push against the door, and walk out, James too slow to follow. James rushed out after him but couldn't see the guy, wondering how the fuck he knew that about her, and how he dissolved into the crowd. There was no easy way to tell where the black jacketed man had gone, but that was fucking weird. Really, really weird. And it was hardly like he could tell anyone either, as he sighed, knocking back inside before anyone would realise he hadn't washed his hands. Now that would be embarrassing. Someone had a bone to pick with him, another dispatcher, someone disgruntled, some hero he hadn't recognised who he'd fucked over with his team's performance, or something else? He didn't want to think about it. How they'd made the joints, that he didn't know, but at this point, he was enough glasses of wine down to not be a bit paranoid. Or have taken some joke the wrong way. What the fuck was that about?