High wine: a pleasant suprise

[xp_trance]

Hope and Betsy go for a high wine and have a pleasant surprise.

“I don’t think I’ve heard of this before. So it’s like high tea, but with wine and appetizers instead of tea and finger sandwiches?”, Betsy asked, holding the door to the dimly wine bar open for Hope. “While I do think tea is a marvelous invention I have to admit that the idea is intriguing.”

"It's fairly new to me too. I think it makes a lovely variation on the high tea though, especially if you get closer to the evening. I also have seen something they refer to as a High Beer. Similar concept, but with different kinds of beer and somewhat more snack foods. This seemed like the better option though." Hope quickly stepped inside and they were immediately greeted by one of the staff. "We made a reservation for a high wine under the name of Abbott."   

“While beer has it’s place, this concept does seem more suited to wine,” Betsy agreed. The maître d’ located their reservation and gestured for one of the staff to guide them to a table. “He thinks we are not likely to tip well,” she whispered to Hope with some amusement and nodded at their waiter. “I’m not trying to peek, but he’s very loud about it."

Hope threw a covert glance at the man. "Let me guess. Either because we look too young, we are women or we do not dress snobbish enough?" She replied in an equally low tone. "Oh, I do like that view." She added, returning to a normal tone of voice. "I knew there was a reason why we went for one on the top floor.” 

“All of the above I think. The view is lovely though.” Betsy waited until the waiter had had left before continuing. “So, how is the Hope Abbott’s world of international intrigue?”

"Fairly quiet if I am honest. It's mostly been classes and work." Hope shook her head. "Helped to organized a few small events. I hope your time has been more... stimulating?”  

Betsy shrugged. “The lack of sleep is beginning to get rather stale. My training is going well though - I have been working on the astral plane lately and feel like I’m making some progress there so that’s something at least.” The unimpressed waiter returned with their first course and two glasses of champagne.

Hope waited till the waiter had left the champagne and the small plates with lightly seared scallops on taro chips with green olive tapenade. "I hope you can at least catch some hours. Psi-training and a lack of sleep are not a fun combination. And speaking of the astral plane... I should get out there myself sometimes soon. It's been too long.”

The food and the wine worked as a welcome distraction. “I get by,” Betsy replied noncommittally. “I still don’t really know how your powers work with regard to the astral plane,” she confessed. “Would I be able to tell you are there, do you know?"

Taking a quick glance around for privacy reasons, Hope nodded. "You would, unless I choose to cloak myself. I look pretty much the same there as if I were to ghost out right now. I have worked with other telepaths on the plane before. Just what I can do is quite different.”

“We should try it out sometime.” Betsy lowered her voice slightly even though she knew the diners at nearby tables were too absorbed in their own conversations for eavesdropping. “It’s fascinating, all the different ways in which our powers manifest. There seem to be endless variations even within the same general ability. Me and Quentin and Jean for example, we all have different strengths."

"That we can do." Hope agreed. "Like I said, it's been too long since I did some serious practice in that area. Are the notes Topaz and I managed to find from our psi classes years back any use for you? I have to be honest, in that regard I still miss professor Xavier.”

“The notes are very helpful, actually. Thank you for going to the trouble of digging them out,” Betsy said. “I wish I had had the chance to train under Xavier in his prime. Not that I don’t appreciate the effort he took with me on Muir, but he was a patient himself as well. It must have been a completely different experience before the stroke."

Hope's face darkened a little. "It was. But I think it was not only the stroke. The loss of students, allies and friends on M-day... I think it did just as much damage.”

“You are probably right. It must have been devastating to him, considering how dedicated he was to the school and mutants. And I'm sorry if I brought back bad memories, it was not my intention.” M-day was such a painful subject to so many at the mansion that Betsy felt guilty about bringing it up even unintentionally.

"It's alright." Hope sipped her champagne as she shifted topics. "I was wondering by the way... how have you been enjoying your first few events at the Club?”  
 
“They have been quite enlightening. The pretense is amusing - people feigning to be what they wish they were rather than what they are, if you get my drift? It’s a fun game to play if nothing else. I am also getting better at figuring out who is playing out of boredom and who has actual stakes in the game. I’m still merely building a network though.” 

"Which is absolutely vital in what we do. Connections, information and the ways to put those to use, that is how we contribute. How we fight." Hope spoke, her thoughts lending a particular forceful note to her words.    

Betsy spent a few extra seconds spearing her scallop. “I just wonder… Are these really the kind of people we want to have on our side?” She sighed. “I know, I know. Sometimes you have to sleep with the swine to get the pearl, mixed metaphors notwithstanding."

"It's a complicated one." Hope admitted. "I have not found the answer to that yet. Some says we use them as much as they use us, but it all comes down to how far you are willing to go in the end justifies the means. In certain cases I have found myself ready to do whatever it takes, in other cases not so much..." Hope took a long drink from her champagne. "The Club... it's a world of many shades of grey... many dark shades of grey and you will have to find out how far you are willing to go.” 

“I believe the end is important enough to justify a lot of darkness. At times I just wish I didn’t know what they were thinking.” Betsy contemplated her last taro chip before popping it in her mouth. “Not that it’s all bad. I like many of the younger attendees - it’s a pity they are not the ones with much power, at least for now.” A busser, looking young enough to barely be out of high school, came to clear out their empty plates.

"You would be surprised sometimes... but for many of them it's just like a giant playground." Hope paused when the waiter arrived with miniature bowls filled with a clear soup and two glasses of sauvignon blanc. "They tend to forget though that many of games being played there are very real.” 

“Looks do deceive,” Betsy agreed. “In a way I am quite glad that me and Brian avoided these circles when we were younger, even if it wasn’t completely by choice. It could have ended very badly for us. I was surprised by how many people recognized our name, some fifteen years after it was last relevant.” She tried a mouthful of soup and made a small pleased noise. "As far as food goes this was an excellent choice by the way. How did you come across it?"

"They were actually bidders for one of the events I organized this summer to do the catering. Unfortunately they did not make it, but I had already heard about..." Hope stopped suddenly and half twisted at the ruckus behind her.  

The floor was covered in dirty utensils and broken tableware, previously wielded by the young busser who was now trying to pull away from the waiter with an iron grip on their shoulder. “Goddam mutie,” he hissed, twisting their arm to pull up a sleeve of the black dress shirt. “It’s a skin condition!” The busser looked nervously around the half-full restaurant.

Hope put down her glass, turning around as her mind automatically started to assess the situation. "Poor guy. This might get messy." She murdered to Betsy in a low voice. "Those are blue scales... hard to explain away as a skin condition."  

Betsy chewed on her lip, counting the patrons and trying to estimate whether she could cloud perception for all of them at once when a middle-aged lady seated next to the waiter reached out to grab him. “Young man, I demand you release your grip at once. My son is a mutant and I would never have come to this establishment if I knew the staff would display such discrimination.” Her companion stood up to help to pull the man off the busser, while another patron tapped their shoulder to get their attention. “Hey friend, are you alright?,” they asked kindly.

Hope threw a surprised look over her shoulder at Betsy, mildly stunned at something she had not seen for a long while. "Are you seeing this?" 

"What is going on here?" A man Hope recognized as the owner came rushing in, waving the white cloth in his hand. As he took in the situation, he moved over to the waiter: "I told you before, Trevin, those attitudes have no place here.”  

The owner sighed. “You’re a good server Trevin, but as I apparently cannot trust you to not assault your fellow coworkers I have no choice but to let you go.”  Betsy watched as he quickly thanked the intervening patrons and promised to comp their meals and told the busser to take the rest of the day off before leading the waiter into the back to gather up his belongings. “I… was not expecting that,” she said honestly.

"Me neither... Was he genuine? Did the owner really mean what he said?" Hope replied in a low voice as she reached once more for her wine. "Because if he is…"

“Yes, I think he actually did. The patrons did too.” Betsy tamped down the adrenaline her body had produced at the expectation of a (possibly violent) confrontation and made herself eat another spoonful of her now slightly cold soup. “What do you think it means? Do you think this is just a one-off?"

"Too little information to say anything about that." Hope relaxed a little now that the situation seemed resolved, but she was still observing the atmosphere. "I would like to hope, but it's too early.... However, I will do some checking and if the owner is truly, perhaps we could encourage some patronage from our friends. There are enough who will take this the other way and it will be on the web soon enough.”

“You are probably right about that. Still, maybe, do you think that just this once, things will actually turn out alright?” Betsy drained her wine, then answered her own question. “Not in a month of Sundays."

"Still, even if it's only once, I do have to admit it felt good to see." Hope commented as the waiter removed their soup bowls. "To see other people standing up instead of pouring on more hate.”

“True. Maybe this is what it would be like if M-day had not happened,” Betsy mused. “Or maybe they would just have found another justification for it. Who knows."

 "I think it would have happened anyway. If not M-day, something else would have happened to stoke the fires." Hope pulled out her phone. "But instead... let's see what we can do to fan the flames of what we saw today instead?” 

"I’ve already met a few people who might be able to put in a good word if I asked. Nothing too overt, just ensuring that this place will show up in a favorable context on the right person’s instagram etcetera,” Betsy waved her hand. “It’s not much but it should help some."

"That is always a good start. Hmm, I'll drop a word here and there with one or two people organizing events that I know are sympathetic. Getting them to cater a few events never hurts." Hope picked up her phone again, quickly scribbling down a note.

“And we can always suggest it to the people in the mansion. There might be some fold who’d appreciate the chance to go out for dinner without needing to worry about image inducers or similar.” The new waiter returned with the next course, a duck confit with fig preserve, and another two glasses of red wine.
 
"I already know a few people who would enjoy this. Tandy, Sue, Julian... some others." Hope took a sip from the wine, then paused to eye the glass. "This is a really good one. I would not mind having a bottle or two of this from my own wine rack.”

“All the wines have been rather nice, but this one is my favorite as well. The pairing is good too. I would probably recommend this place even without knowing they were sympathetic,” Betsy admitted.

"I wonder... sometimes they do sell some of the wine as well in a separate shop or something like that. That might be worth checking into." It's able to stand up against the sweetness of the fig without overwhelming it. That is a rare thing.”  

Betsy tested this with a fig and a bit more wine, then nodded in agreement. “Let’s have a look on the way out. There is one more course after this one, if I recall correctly? Considering the amount of wine I probably should have picked a day with no training later,” she laughed.

"A dessert course." Hope agreed. "Oh, they are serving it with ice wine. I have not had that for a long time. Have you ever had it before?” 

“I have had some German ones. Quite refreshing, much less cloying than most dessert wines in my opinion. And slightly less alcoholic too, which may save my lesson from being a total write-off. What are your plans for the rest of the day?,” Betsy inquired, swirling the last remnants of her red in the glass.

 

"Nothing that requires a lot of brains." Hope joked as a different waiter came by to remove their plates. "There is actually a small arthouse cinema nearby that I was thinking of checking out if you are in the mood.”  

 

Betsy nodded. “As long as I can still make it back to the mansion in time”. The waiter returned with two small glasses and rosewater blancmange served in antique teacups. “Points for presentation I suppose,” Betsy said with an amused smile.

 

"It is rather adorable." Hope replied as she quickly snapped a picture of the dessert. "If it tastes just as good as the rest..." She took a small bite. "And it certainly does. Now, what kind of movie would you like to see. I saw they are playing…"