![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
x-longshot.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsCecilia starts a bidding war.
"Whoops, sorry, coming through! Excuse me, sorry, pardon me, thank you," Adrienne mumbled as she crutched her way through the crush of people on her way from the ladies room back towards her table at the charity ball, wishing she could melt away into the floor. Tandy had helped her cover her crutches in black-and-white-striped shelf paper, and had added some 'classy' drawings to the cast she'd been regularly sketching on since Adrienne's fall, but Adrienne still felt incredibly awkward being at the ball with a broken leg.
Touching up her makeup and staring at herself in the mirror for a little bit had helped a little- she loved the classy updo Tandy had given her, and the killer fuchsia cocktail dress. But the psychometrist was fairly certain she'd never been to a party without heels on before, and the lack of them this evening was making her feel as if she were a knight who'd gone to battle with no armour. She hadn't wanted cocaine so badly in three years. But as a result of that feeling, she wasn't letting herself have anything except food and water. And it was becoming painfully obvious that being at a party sober was really, really lame.
She desperately needed something fun to happen soon, or the urge to bail would trump even Garrison's upcoming auctioning.
Huffing from the exertion of maneuvering back to her table, Adrienne collapsed gratefully into her seat and sipped at her water. "Did I miss anything good? Anyone fall off the stage? Fight break out among bidders?"
Jean glanced over, taking a moment to listen to the auctioneer on stage. "Nothing yet. I imagine it'll happen eventually, though," she mused. It was what these things were set up for, after all.
She then leaned in a bit closer. "Are you okay?" she added softly.
Adrienne nodded. "Tandy followed me into the ladies room to make sure I didn't try anything. She was sneaky, but I caught her when a bunch of girls stopped to ask her about her dress," she smirked. "But I'm bored. I think I might take off soon. I'd leave you with my credit card, though. You'd have to buy Garrison for me. And maybe I'd let you buy some jewelry. But no hookers, lady," she instructed with a wag of her finger. "Scott, if I leave my credit card with your wife, you're in charge of making sure she doesn't buy hookers."
"No hookers, got it, I promise to do everything possible to stop her spending any money on hookers" Scott replied with a nod before turning to whisper to Jean in a stage deadpan voice, "You notice she only specified hookers, so gigolos, that new coffee machine you've been eyeing, perhaps a MRI machine for the medlab, It's all fair game." he noted with a wicked grin.
"Might want to check the credit limit first," North commented idly, swirling his half-empty glass of wine as he leaned around Scott and raised it in a short salute at Adrienne. The man was clean shaven for the occasion, and appropriately dressed in a way that usually meant that he was on a job. But anyone who knew him well enough could tell from his impassive expression and bland tone that the German spy was not entirely thrilled to be where he was. "I can give you a lift out if you want to leave."
"My credit could totally buy an MRI machine, an espresso maker, and all the gigolos Jean could possibly want. Hell, I could buy you a space station... probably," Adrienne muttered to Scott before turning to North. "Oh, no. No, no, no. You're not getting off that easy, Mister Ninja, sir. You're staying right where you are, because I think Cecilia might be up next. And if you're not going to buy her and go on a date with her to fulfill the prophecy that was ordained on me by the stars and heavens and The Book of Three and witches and voodoo and Garrison's magic cat, then I'm going to buy her for you. Except Girl Power and women are not commodities to be bought and sold and forced into dating men against their will, disclaimer disclaimer disclaimer," she added quickly, sounding like a voiceover on a cholesterol drug commercial.
"And now..." The voice of the Mr. Roarke, the auctioneer cut through the room, silencing the hush that hung in the room. "Recently returned from the deeps of the South-American jungle on quest to help our suffering fellow men, I present to you an angel of mercy, Dr. Cecilia Reyes!"
"Oh, fucking hell." Cecilia muttered before adopting a charming, happy expression and stepping out in front of the crowd of rich people. Angel of mercy? Really? She'd never seen the need to use such flowery language when simple words would do, and she hated that the auctioneer had just set such expectations for her. Though, to be fair, it wasn't like the words she'd sent to Hope would attract potential buyers.
Still, as Cecilia glanced around the room (her eyes brightening when she spotted the familiar faces up front), she had to think it was better these folks see her as a kind, demure altruist than they think of her as some naked sex object. She silently cursed Marius for even putting that idea into her head.
Unsure what to do, she stood there awkwardly and tried not to look like she was dying to be elsewhere.
"Gentleman, especially those who fancy themselves Channing Tatum and are fond of a good glass of wine, get ready! The bidding starts at 250 dollars for an evening of fun with our lady doctor!"
Wade hopped the chair that stood between him and the table near the front of the stage where Cece was letting herself be auctioned off, suppressing a snort at the 'angel of mercy' bit. He grabbed the chair, flipped it around, and rested his arms on the back as he sat, raising his ridiculous little number fan to bid the two fifty. Then he leaned over and muttered to North, "Dude, some fireworks would totally liven this party up, wouldn't they?"
“You speak like a man who does not have explosives on his person,” North said mildly, tipping the contents of his glass down his gullet. The doctor covered up her apprehension well, but the tense lines of her shoulders gave her away. Her bid went up by another fifty dollars. “And like a man not directly responsible for my presence here.”
Though, to be fair, North needed to stop making drunken bets he had little hope of winning.
"Wilson, you better be betting on Reyes so you can give her to North," Adrienne chastised teasingly, "what with you having a super hot girlfriend already. Although," she mused, "the fireworks that would result from her trying to kill you would probably be pretty epic. Or," she added as a thought that caused her to smirk delightedly crossed her mind, "I guess you could be buying her for a threesome. That would be okay. But still. She's destined to ride off into the sunset with North. It's some epic love story shit." She raised her bidding number with a flick of her wrist to up Cecilia's bid.
Jean turned suddenly quiet at the presence of the new person to the mix. She hadn't quite spoken to Wade since their text exchange but he had enough to occupy him and she had some wine. She'd be occupied by that. Being in the same room with people she didn't quite agree with was something she was used to when visiting Capitol Hill.
Scott nodded a welcome at Wade as he took his seat before he turned to David and took a sip of his wine, "Sounds like there's a story behind this one," he commented with an amused smile, "Haven't you learned never to make a bet with Wade by now?" he glanced back to the stage where the bidding had gone up to $400, "Cecilia's really popular, might be the highest bid of the night."
“Hardly surprising,” North replied, sparing Adrienne a withering glance and an arched brow before his attention was recaptured by the wine server. “Why Adrienne fantasizes about subjecting her to spending time with me, I cannot fathom.” The precog exchanged his empty glass for a full one from the tray of wine and bubbly, and snagged another for the newest member of their table. North’s bidding paddle was on a the table where it had been since before he sat down, and it did not look like the spy was inclined to be touching it at all that evening. Then he noticed the look in Adrienne’s eye. The sort of manic gleam that appeared in the brunette’s pretty windows to her soul when she was hatching a nefarious plot of some kind. “Do not do it, Princess.”
There was a beat here as the flash of a sign across the room signaled that Cecilia's bidding price had been raised once again, but this time by a stranger.
Adrienne was scoffing at North and telling him that she wasn't going to use his money to buy him a date with Cecilia- that it was meant to be her gift to him- when the auctioneer announced the raised bid. She glanced over at Wade, but he was looking out into the crowd, too. Finally Adrienne spotted the attractive stranger who was lowering his bidding number. "What the hell?" she murmured to her colleagues. "Who's this?" She snatched North's bidding number and raised it, then raised her own. "C'mon, guys. We can't let Cecilia be bought by a stranger. Even if he's hot."
Jean examined her wine glass with expert medical precision. Her diagnosis: yep, that could hold more wine. "But didn't you want her to meet new people...who were hot? It would be nice for her to be around someone who didn't save the world on a weekly basis."
Wade snagged an entire tray of wine glasses from a server and sat it in front of Jean even as he squinted at the blond stranger. "His hair's too long. He's obviously not good enough for Cece." Then he emphatically raised his bidding paddle. When the stranger upped the bid again, Wade glared at his stupid paddle and just yelled over the auctioneer, "A thousand!"
"Two thousand," the stranger countered in a clearly projected baritone. The rest of the room, quickly catching on and now quite hushed, turned their eyes back to Wade.
Eyes narrowing dangerously, Wade considered the other man. "Four thousand."
Mortified as she now was, Cecilia was at least grateful nobody's eyes were on her anymore. This situation hadn't been why she'd insisted she'd need a drink at this shindig, but only because she'd never have anticipated that Wade would get into a pissing contest with a total stranger and start throwing around unnecessary amounts of cash.
Although, now that she thought about it, maybe it's something she should have considered.
Was this the worst possible outcome, or the best? She hated to think this would end with everyone gawking on her, but it was nice to be valued enough to raise buckets of cash for charity. On the other hand, the thought of a $4,000 dollar date with anyone, even her buddy-slash-patient was terrifying. Even platonic friend dates came with expectations, which meant she would almost certainly have to get that second tattoo or go bungee-jumping or something death-defying and astoundingly stupid.
Still, was the alternative that much better/ Genuinely curious to know who thought she'd be worth anything close to this price tag, Cecilia tried to crane her neck and spot the man at the back of the room. She couldn't entirely catch his face (though she did catch sight of Jean's wine glass and felt pangs of jealousy). He was blond, so there was that, but — a stranger shifted in front of him, and she squinted to catch a better glimpse.
Nope. It couldn't be. Now she was just seeing things.
The awfully familiar face raised his paddle again, shooting Cecilia an awfully familiar smile. He shrugged at her apologetically. "Eight thousand."
"And there we are... approaching one of the top bids of the evening!!!" Mr. Roarke enthusiastically proclaimed into his microphone. "Are you going to let this fine lady be snatched away from you? Steal away a night of your dreams!" He challenged Wade.
He paused for a second, to let the tension rise. "If there are no more bids... Going one..."
A night of your dreams? Seriously? Fuck, that auctioneer was creepy. "Sixteen," Adrienne called out, raising one of the bidding numbers in front of her, though she'd grabbed it without checking to see whose it was. It was North's. Whoops.
Wade checked the paddle number and realized he didn't have to jump to thirty-two thousand on his own since the last one was placed by friendlies. His own paddle firmly on the table for the moment, he reached for his phone and then glared the auctioneer. He pointed his finger at the man, promising a very painful introduction if the man didn't cut down on the 'night of your dreams' shit. Phone open, Wade dialed a number from memory and, when someone answered, said, "Hang on, I need you to run a background check for me." Without preamble, he stood up and snapped a picture of the blond dude who did, indeed, look familiar. "I want everything you can find on him. Literally. Everything. If he got a cold in second grade and had to stay home, thus ruining his lifetime goal of perfect attendance, you tell me."
David was laughing softly to himself, seemingly unconcerned with the way Adrienne was handling his bidding paddle. He met Wade's affronted look with another drink from his wine glass before he offered his phone to Wade. "I have the guest list, if your associate wants it."
"Hang on," Wade said, nodding his thanks to David. "I'm emailing you a list of the guests..." There was a slight pause before the mercenary handed his friend's phone back to him. "That's the dude? That's why he looks familiar? Crap, Wheeze, you're marathoning his damn show right now? Stop that, get me all his info now." He ended the call, shaking his head. "It's that dude with the survival show, the one that I still think cheats."
On stage, Cecilia had reached the same realization, independently of whatever conversation she was vaguely aware was happening in front of her. And, well aware of the absurdity of being the focus of a bidding war between a survivalist reality star, bizarrely protective ex-mercenary and well-intentioned-but-slightly-aggressive fashionista, Cecilia smirked for the first time all night.
At this point, there was no way in hell she was going to escape this with all of her dignity intact, so she might as well egg these three on. Her chin lifted as she tried to meet the eyes of the celebrity in the back (for some reason, she could never remember his name).
When she felt sure she'd gotten his attention, Cecilia simply raised an eyebrow and tried to look appropriately amused.
Longshot was, if nothing, easily led and raised his paddle again. He did, however, turn and give Wade a very pointed wink from across the room.
Wade raised his own paddle again, though he let the auctioneer declare his bid to be sixteen five rather than thirty-two thousand.
Scott leaned back in his chair lifting his wineglass to his lips to hide his amused smile. He knew he shouldn't feel amused at Cecilia's obvious discomfort but hopefully the fact that she had the highest bid of the night would help her self confidence. Spinning around in his chair, the X-man glanced over at Arthur wondering how much higher he was willing to go.
Jean was reminded of a ping pong match as she took a break from craning her head toward each bidder to finish off her drink. This. This was the last one, no matter how many more there were on the tray, that beautiful tray. She would've commented about how much of a dick Arthur had been earlier but something was not quite right with the guy, she knew how, but not why. That was for a later time. And she was trying to be the civil drunk.
"The event coordinators look pretty happy. If they got to a million their heads would explode."
Another few gradual increases. The blonde celebrity had now angled his chair to more carefully study the Xavier's table. He saluted his latest bid -- seventeen-seventy-five -- with a drink.
As curious as she was to see how far this pissing contest would go, Cecilia decided she'd had enough of being caught cross-stream, so to speak. "I think," she turned her head to the auctioneer, "that we're done here." She hadn't bothered to sound like she was making a suggestion.
"After all," she added a sly grin, her eyes meeting Hollywood Joe's, "we wouldn't want to make the other ladies feel inadequate." Not that any of them would think this had anything to do with her anyway. It was almost unbelievable how much publicists would drop to get on a news website these days.
"And a wise woman as well!!!" The man exclaimed. "But the gentlemen decide!" He turned back to the room. "And what do you decide?"
The blonde stranger stood and swept his arms out in a grand gesture. "Where's the fun in that? I propose we ditch convention and let the beautiful Doctor choose instead. I'll keep my pledge and write a check -- plus whatever else she demands -- either way."
Cecilia raised an eyebrow. If this was flirting as negotiation — for charity — she could handle that. "I think if you want a photo op for your publicist, Hollywood, I'm worth eighteen-five. An even twenty if you brought a big check with you." The auctioneer started to open his mouth and she waved him off. "And no salsa dancing when we go out."
"No one does big checks anymore," the blond quipped with a laugh, "I would have had to hide it under the table. I'll be sure to bring my accountant if you're going to charge by interaction. Unless if you wish to date the group over there instead." He used his drink-hand to vaguely gesture to Wade and Adrienne's table.
Cecilia threw her friends a glance, then shrugged. Reality show or not, he was cute. And charming to boot. "Leave the checkbook at home, and you've got a deal." Remembering where they were, she glanced to her right at Mr. Roarke. "I think. Maestro?"
"Uhm... uhm..." The man fought to recover himself a little. "Going once... going twice... 'Sold' to 'Hollywood for twenty thousand dollars!" He painted a big smile on his face and sidled over to Cecilia. "And now please leave!!!" He hissed. First the strangely wordy Australian man and now this doctor!
"No need to be so short," Cecilia smirked. "We just raised fistfuls of cash for charity." As she sauntered off the stage, she caught sight of an amused-yet-horrified Hope. Lacking anything reassuring to say, she settled for a wink and then crassly rubbed her fingers together to symbolize money. And then she went in search of the bottle of red she was sure had her name on it.
Wade watched the exchange through narrowed eyes, figuring Cece had it covered. His phone lit up, though, and he checked it. Smiling a very small smile, the mercenary started opening the files Weasel forwarded him. Then he sent Mister Arthur Centino, alleged survivalist extraordinaire, a text message.
"Whoops, sorry, coming through! Excuse me, sorry, pardon me, thank you," Adrienne mumbled as she crutched her way through the crush of people on her way from the ladies room back towards her table at the charity ball, wishing she could melt away into the floor. Tandy had helped her cover her crutches in black-and-white-striped shelf paper, and had added some 'classy' drawings to the cast she'd been regularly sketching on since Adrienne's fall, but Adrienne still felt incredibly awkward being at the ball with a broken leg.
Touching up her makeup and staring at herself in the mirror for a little bit had helped a little- she loved the classy updo Tandy had given her, and the killer fuchsia cocktail dress. But the psychometrist was fairly certain she'd never been to a party without heels on before, and the lack of them this evening was making her feel as if she were a knight who'd gone to battle with no armour. She hadn't wanted cocaine so badly in three years. But as a result of that feeling, she wasn't letting herself have anything except food and water. And it was becoming painfully obvious that being at a party sober was really, really lame.
She desperately needed something fun to happen soon, or the urge to bail would trump even Garrison's upcoming auctioning.
Huffing from the exertion of maneuvering back to her table, Adrienne collapsed gratefully into her seat and sipped at her water. "Did I miss anything good? Anyone fall off the stage? Fight break out among bidders?"
Jean glanced over, taking a moment to listen to the auctioneer on stage. "Nothing yet. I imagine it'll happen eventually, though," she mused. It was what these things were set up for, after all.
She then leaned in a bit closer. "Are you okay?" she added softly.
Adrienne nodded. "Tandy followed me into the ladies room to make sure I didn't try anything. She was sneaky, but I caught her when a bunch of girls stopped to ask her about her dress," she smirked. "But I'm bored. I think I might take off soon. I'd leave you with my credit card, though. You'd have to buy Garrison for me. And maybe I'd let you buy some jewelry. But no hookers, lady," she instructed with a wag of her finger. "Scott, if I leave my credit card with your wife, you're in charge of making sure she doesn't buy hookers."
"No hookers, got it, I promise to do everything possible to stop her spending any money on hookers" Scott replied with a nod before turning to whisper to Jean in a stage deadpan voice, "You notice she only specified hookers, so gigolos, that new coffee machine you've been eyeing, perhaps a MRI machine for the medlab, It's all fair game." he noted with a wicked grin.
"Might want to check the credit limit first," North commented idly, swirling his half-empty glass of wine as he leaned around Scott and raised it in a short salute at Adrienne. The man was clean shaven for the occasion, and appropriately dressed in a way that usually meant that he was on a job. But anyone who knew him well enough could tell from his impassive expression and bland tone that the German spy was not entirely thrilled to be where he was. "I can give you a lift out if you want to leave."
"My credit could totally buy an MRI machine, an espresso maker, and all the gigolos Jean could possibly want. Hell, I could buy you a space station... probably," Adrienne muttered to Scott before turning to North. "Oh, no. No, no, no. You're not getting off that easy, Mister Ninja, sir. You're staying right where you are, because I think Cecilia might be up next. And if you're not going to buy her and go on a date with her to fulfill the prophecy that was ordained on me by the stars and heavens and The Book of Three and witches and voodoo and Garrison's magic cat, then I'm going to buy her for you. Except Girl Power and women are not commodities to be bought and sold and forced into dating men against their will, disclaimer disclaimer disclaimer," she added quickly, sounding like a voiceover on a cholesterol drug commercial.
"And now..." The voice of the Mr. Roarke, the auctioneer cut through the room, silencing the hush that hung in the room. "Recently returned from the deeps of the South-American jungle on quest to help our suffering fellow men, I present to you an angel of mercy, Dr. Cecilia Reyes!"
"Oh, fucking hell." Cecilia muttered before adopting a charming, happy expression and stepping out in front of the crowd of rich people. Angel of mercy? Really? She'd never seen the need to use such flowery language when simple words would do, and she hated that the auctioneer had just set such expectations for her. Though, to be fair, it wasn't like the words she'd sent to Hope would attract potential buyers.
Still, as Cecilia glanced around the room (her eyes brightening when she spotted the familiar faces up front), she had to think it was better these folks see her as a kind, demure altruist than they think of her as some naked sex object. She silently cursed Marius for even putting that idea into her head.
Unsure what to do, she stood there awkwardly and tried not to look like she was dying to be elsewhere.
"Gentleman, especially those who fancy themselves Channing Tatum and are fond of a good glass of wine, get ready! The bidding starts at 250 dollars for an evening of fun with our lady doctor!"
Wade hopped the chair that stood between him and the table near the front of the stage where Cece was letting herself be auctioned off, suppressing a snort at the 'angel of mercy' bit. He grabbed the chair, flipped it around, and rested his arms on the back as he sat, raising his ridiculous little number fan to bid the two fifty. Then he leaned over and muttered to North, "Dude, some fireworks would totally liven this party up, wouldn't they?"
“You speak like a man who does not have explosives on his person,” North said mildly, tipping the contents of his glass down his gullet. The doctor covered up her apprehension well, but the tense lines of her shoulders gave her away. Her bid went up by another fifty dollars. “And like a man not directly responsible for my presence here.”
Though, to be fair, North needed to stop making drunken bets he had little hope of winning.
"Wilson, you better be betting on Reyes so you can give her to North," Adrienne chastised teasingly, "what with you having a super hot girlfriend already. Although," she mused, "the fireworks that would result from her trying to kill you would probably be pretty epic. Or," she added as a thought that caused her to smirk delightedly crossed her mind, "I guess you could be buying her for a threesome. That would be okay. But still. She's destined to ride off into the sunset with North. It's some epic love story shit." She raised her bidding number with a flick of her wrist to up Cecilia's bid.
Jean turned suddenly quiet at the presence of the new person to the mix. She hadn't quite spoken to Wade since their text exchange but he had enough to occupy him and she had some wine. She'd be occupied by that. Being in the same room with people she didn't quite agree with was something she was used to when visiting Capitol Hill.
Scott nodded a welcome at Wade as he took his seat before he turned to David and took a sip of his wine, "Sounds like there's a story behind this one," he commented with an amused smile, "Haven't you learned never to make a bet with Wade by now?" he glanced back to the stage where the bidding had gone up to $400, "Cecilia's really popular, might be the highest bid of the night."
“Hardly surprising,” North replied, sparing Adrienne a withering glance and an arched brow before his attention was recaptured by the wine server. “Why Adrienne fantasizes about subjecting her to spending time with me, I cannot fathom.” The precog exchanged his empty glass for a full one from the tray of wine and bubbly, and snagged another for the newest member of their table. North’s bidding paddle was on a the table where it had been since before he sat down, and it did not look like the spy was inclined to be touching it at all that evening. Then he noticed the look in Adrienne’s eye. The sort of manic gleam that appeared in the brunette’s pretty windows to her soul when she was hatching a nefarious plot of some kind. “Do not do it, Princess.”
There was a beat here as the flash of a sign across the room signaled that Cecilia's bidding price had been raised once again, but this time by a stranger.
Adrienne was scoffing at North and telling him that she wasn't going to use his money to buy him a date with Cecilia- that it was meant to be her gift to him- when the auctioneer announced the raised bid. She glanced over at Wade, but he was looking out into the crowd, too. Finally Adrienne spotted the attractive stranger who was lowering his bidding number. "What the hell?" she murmured to her colleagues. "Who's this?" She snatched North's bidding number and raised it, then raised her own. "C'mon, guys. We can't let Cecilia be bought by a stranger. Even if he's hot."
Jean examined her wine glass with expert medical precision. Her diagnosis: yep, that could hold more wine. "But didn't you want her to meet new people...who were hot? It would be nice for her to be around someone who didn't save the world on a weekly basis."
Wade snagged an entire tray of wine glasses from a server and sat it in front of Jean even as he squinted at the blond stranger. "His hair's too long. He's obviously not good enough for Cece." Then he emphatically raised his bidding paddle. When the stranger upped the bid again, Wade glared at his stupid paddle and just yelled over the auctioneer, "A thousand!"
"Two thousand," the stranger countered in a clearly projected baritone. The rest of the room, quickly catching on and now quite hushed, turned their eyes back to Wade.
Eyes narrowing dangerously, Wade considered the other man. "Four thousand."
Mortified as she now was, Cecilia was at least grateful nobody's eyes were on her anymore. This situation hadn't been why she'd insisted she'd need a drink at this shindig, but only because she'd never have anticipated that Wade would get into a pissing contest with a total stranger and start throwing around unnecessary amounts of cash.
Although, now that she thought about it, maybe it's something she should have considered.
Was this the worst possible outcome, or the best? She hated to think this would end with everyone gawking on her, but it was nice to be valued enough to raise buckets of cash for charity. On the other hand, the thought of a $4,000 dollar date with anyone, even her buddy-slash-patient was terrifying. Even platonic friend dates came with expectations, which meant she would almost certainly have to get that second tattoo or go bungee-jumping or something death-defying and astoundingly stupid.
Still, was the alternative that much better/ Genuinely curious to know who thought she'd be worth anything close to this price tag, Cecilia tried to crane her neck and spot the man at the back of the room. She couldn't entirely catch his face (though she did catch sight of Jean's wine glass and felt pangs of jealousy). He was blond, so there was that, but — a stranger shifted in front of him, and she squinted to catch a better glimpse.
Nope. It couldn't be. Now she was just seeing things.
The awfully familiar face raised his paddle again, shooting Cecilia an awfully familiar smile. He shrugged at her apologetically. "Eight thousand."
"And there we are... approaching one of the top bids of the evening!!!" Mr. Roarke enthusiastically proclaimed into his microphone. "Are you going to let this fine lady be snatched away from you? Steal away a night of your dreams!" He challenged Wade.
He paused for a second, to let the tension rise. "If there are no more bids... Going one..."
A night of your dreams? Seriously? Fuck, that auctioneer was creepy. "Sixteen," Adrienne called out, raising one of the bidding numbers in front of her, though she'd grabbed it without checking to see whose it was. It was North's. Whoops.
Wade checked the paddle number and realized he didn't have to jump to thirty-two thousand on his own since the last one was placed by friendlies. His own paddle firmly on the table for the moment, he reached for his phone and then glared the auctioneer. He pointed his finger at the man, promising a very painful introduction if the man didn't cut down on the 'night of your dreams' shit. Phone open, Wade dialed a number from memory and, when someone answered, said, "Hang on, I need you to run a background check for me." Without preamble, he stood up and snapped a picture of the blond dude who did, indeed, look familiar. "I want everything you can find on him. Literally. Everything. If he got a cold in second grade and had to stay home, thus ruining his lifetime goal of perfect attendance, you tell me."
David was laughing softly to himself, seemingly unconcerned with the way Adrienne was handling his bidding paddle. He met Wade's affronted look with another drink from his wine glass before he offered his phone to Wade. "I have the guest list, if your associate wants it."
"Hang on," Wade said, nodding his thanks to David. "I'm emailing you a list of the guests..." There was a slight pause before the mercenary handed his friend's phone back to him. "That's the dude? That's why he looks familiar? Crap, Wheeze, you're marathoning his damn show right now? Stop that, get me all his info now." He ended the call, shaking his head. "It's that dude with the survival show, the one that I still think cheats."
On stage, Cecilia had reached the same realization, independently of whatever conversation she was vaguely aware was happening in front of her. And, well aware of the absurdity of being the focus of a bidding war between a survivalist reality star, bizarrely protective ex-mercenary and well-intentioned-but-slightly-aggressive fashionista, Cecilia smirked for the first time all night.
At this point, there was no way in hell she was going to escape this with all of her dignity intact, so she might as well egg these three on. Her chin lifted as she tried to meet the eyes of the celebrity in the back (for some reason, she could never remember his name).
When she felt sure she'd gotten his attention, Cecilia simply raised an eyebrow and tried to look appropriately amused.
Longshot was, if nothing, easily led and raised his paddle again. He did, however, turn and give Wade a very pointed wink from across the room.
Wade raised his own paddle again, though he let the auctioneer declare his bid to be sixteen five rather than thirty-two thousand.
Scott leaned back in his chair lifting his wineglass to his lips to hide his amused smile. He knew he shouldn't feel amused at Cecilia's obvious discomfort but hopefully the fact that she had the highest bid of the night would help her self confidence. Spinning around in his chair, the X-man glanced over at Arthur wondering how much higher he was willing to go.
Jean was reminded of a ping pong match as she took a break from craning her head toward each bidder to finish off her drink. This. This was the last one, no matter how many more there were on the tray, that beautiful tray. She would've commented about how much of a dick Arthur had been earlier but something was not quite right with the guy, she knew how, but not why. That was for a later time. And she was trying to be the civil drunk.
"The event coordinators look pretty happy. If they got to a million their heads would explode."
Another few gradual increases. The blonde celebrity had now angled his chair to more carefully study the Xavier's table. He saluted his latest bid -- seventeen-seventy-five -- with a drink.
As curious as she was to see how far this pissing contest would go, Cecilia decided she'd had enough of being caught cross-stream, so to speak. "I think," she turned her head to the auctioneer, "that we're done here." She hadn't bothered to sound like she was making a suggestion.
"After all," she added a sly grin, her eyes meeting Hollywood Joe's, "we wouldn't want to make the other ladies feel inadequate." Not that any of them would think this had anything to do with her anyway. It was almost unbelievable how much publicists would drop to get on a news website these days.
"And a wise woman as well!!!" The man exclaimed. "But the gentlemen decide!" He turned back to the room. "And what do you decide?"
The blonde stranger stood and swept his arms out in a grand gesture. "Where's the fun in that? I propose we ditch convention and let the beautiful Doctor choose instead. I'll keep my pledge and write a check -- plus whatever else she demands -- either way."
Cecilia raised an eyebrow. If this was flirting as negotiation — for charity — she could handle that. "I think if you want a photo op for your publicist, Hollywood, I'm worth eighteen-five. An even twenty if you brought a big check with you." The auctioneer started to open his mouth and she waved him off. "And no salsa dancing when we go out."
"No one does big checks anymore," the blond quipped with a laugh, "I would have had to hide it under the table. I'll be sure to bring my accountant if you're going to charge by interaction. Unless if you wish to date the group over there instead." He used his drink-hand to vaguely gesture to Wade and Adrienne's table.
Cecilia threw her friends a glance, then shrugged. Reality show or not, he was cute. And charming to boot. "Leave the checkbook at home, and you've got a deal." Remembering where they were, she glanced to her right at Mr. Roarke. "I think. Maestro?"
"Uhm... uhm..." The man fought to recover himself a little. "Going once... going twice... 'Sold' to 'Hollywood for twenty thousand dollars!" He painted a big smile on his face and sidled over to Cecilia. "And now please leave!!!" He hissed. First the strangely wordy Australian man and now this doctor!
"No need to be so short," Cecilia smirked. "We just raised fistfuls of cash for charity." As she sauntered off the stage, she caught sight of an amused-yet-horrified Hope. Lacking anything reassuring to say, she settled for a wink and then crassly rubbed her fingers together to symbolize money. And then she went in search of the bottle of red she was sure had her name on it.
Wade watched the exchange through narrowed eyes, figuring Cece had it covered. His phone lit up, though, and he checked it. Smiling a very small smile, the mercenary started opening the files Weasel forwarded him. Then he sent Mister Arthur Centino, alleged survivalist extraordinaire, a text message.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}