7/26/12 - Janet, Steve
Jul. 26th, 2012 02:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aa_waspIn a notebook, pictures of different models have their head replaced with one of Steve Rogers, like an artists collage. Alongside the pictures, Janet has started to take notes.
kind of retro...
omg, you have to love a guy in glasses. At least, I do...
edgy casual...
yummy...
=NYC= Joe the Art of Coffee - Midtown - NYC
Though smaller than your average Starbucks, Joe the Art of Coffee in Chelsea manages to do good business for itself, likely in part because of the rare lack of the coffee giant chain in the immediate area. The coffee here is of a high quality, though it tends to attract a slightly more hipster (read: snobby) clientele because of it. However, their brownies are excessively delicious.
Even without the wings, Jan buzzes, seeming to constantly be in motion as she swishes around in her sundress and heels. THe coffee probably doesn't help. There's a large one in her hands as she flits around the small shop, poking at magazines and newspapers left on tables and at employees and customers alike.
There are not many on the few tables in the small shop. But Steve is at one of them with his cup of coffee, his attention on the sketchbook that lies flat on the table. The rough graphite lines sketch out the face of a lovely woman, although there is no one in immediate sight with the likeness that he would be drawing from life from.
A hand inserts itself into his line of sight, pushing the sketchbook down until Steve is forced to look up into Jan's brightly smiling face. "You need a new look," she pronounces, a gleam in her eye that would scare off anyone who knows her very well. She sets her cup down on the table just beyond his tablet and hooks a hip up onto the edge, apparently settling in for a while.
"Um." The sketchbook is on the table already, so there is not really farther down for it to go, but Janet earns his attention anyways. "I beg your pardon?" What is wrong with his khakis and button-down?!
"You need a new look. You know... an /image/," Jan expands, leaning back so she can get her hands into the conversation, waving them around expressively. "You are everywhere, and I know that this boy next door thing works for you, but you could still stand to edge it up a notch." Her earnestness is almost intimidating, despite her size.
"I'm sorry," Steve says, his voice and expression both baffled. "Who are you?"
"Janet van Dyne, but you can call me Jan," Janet answers, lifting her hand from his sketch and holding it out to him with a wide grin. "Just make sure to call me. Girls still like that, and don't let anyone tell you differently."
"Of course," Steve replies, still more baffled than not. But handshakes are familiar enough that he lifts his hand to clasp hers. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"
"Not yet, but I know you," Janet replies, rocking back in her hip lean a little before crinkling her nose and leaning back in to give the guy a break. "Well, kind of. We work for the same people? More or less."
"Oh." Steve blinks a moment, then a faint smile eases his expression. "Okay. So you're with -- okay. Nice to meet you. I'm Steve." Yes, she knows that.
"Hi Steve," Janet chirps. "Now, about your image..." She swings her leg in place and plants her hand back on his sketchpad to support her lean.
"Does it -- have a problem?" Steve says, continuing the general theme of confusion. His brow knits, and he tries carefully to work his sketchbook out from underneath Janet's hand.
"Not a /problem/, so much as a total lack of one." Janet does not immediately release the sketchbook, though eventually, she gives in to his careful patience and lifts her hand.
Don't smear his picture, Janeeeeeet. Steve draws his sketchbook off the table so it is less likely to get manhandled. "I thought the stars and stripes was the image."
"Don't get me started on your uniform," Janet retorts, rolling her eyes and shifting in place. "I'm talking about your--" Again with the hand waves that indicate his current attire. She leans back toward him. "You need style. You've got the looks, yes--" she pauses for a fraction of a second to sweep her eyes across him appraisingly, then continues, "But you need pizazz! Do you trust me?" No, Steve, no!
"I--" Steve looks down at his clothing to try and figure out what she's talking about. He looks back up at her blankly. "I don't -- know you, ma'am."
Janet slides off the table with a little hop, clapping her hands together in front of her. "Don't worry about that. You will!" she says with a beam before lifting her hands and trying to air-measure him. "Corneliani, I think. Maybe Bottega," she murmurs to herself, then leans close and reaches out to capture his chin and tip his face up. "Shame about the fall colors. THink you could have pulled of last years." As quickly as she captured him, she releases his chin and hops back a step. "This may take some time. Don't worry about a thing though!"
"Uhm." Steve peers at her when she tips his chin up, a little caged. "I don't really have any idea what you're talking about."
"It's okay. I'm used to men who don't," Janet reassures (or terrifies) him, stretching across the table to reach her abandoned coffee cup. "Just leave it all up to me!" With another bright smile and bounce in place, she spins in place to change trajectory and head back to where she had abandoned her own things, all in a flurry of activity that propels her toward the exit, fingers wiggling in farewell above her head.
Steve BAFFLES at her as she goes. What just happened.
Beware!
kind of retro...
omg, you have to love a guy in glasses. At least, I do...
edgy casual...
yummy...
=NYC= Joe the Art of Coffee - Midtown - NYC
Though smaller than your average Starbucks, Joe the Art of Coffee in Chelsea manages to do good business for itself, likely in part because of the rare lack of the coffee giant chain in the immediate area. The coffee here is of a high quality, though it tends to attract a slightly more hipster (read: snobby) clientele because of it. However, their brownies are excessively delicious.
Even without the wings, Jan buzzes, seeming to constantly be in motion as she swishes around in her sundress and heels. THe coffee probably doesn't help. There's a large one in her hands as she flits around the small shop, poking at magazines and newspapers left on tables and at employees and customers alike.
There are not many on the few tables in the small shop. But Steve is at one of them with his cup of coffee, his attention on the sketchbook that lies flat on the table. The rough graphite lines sketch out the face of a lovely woman, although there is no one in immediate sight with the likeness that he would be drawing from life from.
A hand inserts itself into his line of sight, pushing the sketchbook down until Steve is forced to look up into Jan's brightly smiling face. "You need a new look," she pronounces, a gleam in her eye that would scare off anyone who knows her very well. She sets her cup down on the table just beyond his tablet and hooks a hip up onto the edge, apparently settling in for a while.
"Um." The sketchbook is on the table already, so there is not really farther down for it to go, but Janet earns his attention anyways. "I beg your pardon?" What is wrong with his khakis and button-down?!
"You need a new look. You know... an /image/," Jan expands, leaning back so she can get her hands into the conversation, waving them around expressively. "You are everywhere, and I know that this boy next door thing works for you, but you could still stand to edge it up a notch." Her earnestness is almost intimidating, despite her size.
"I'm sorry," Steve says, his voice and expression both baffled. "Who are you?"
"Janet van Dyne, but you can call me Jan," Janet answers, lifting her hand from his sketch and holding it out to him with a wide grin. "Just make sure to call me. Girls still like that, and don't let anyone tell you differently."
"Of course," Steve replies, still more baffled than not. But handshakes are familiar enough that he lifts his hand to clasp hers. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"
"Not yet, but I know you," Janet replies, rocking back in her hip lean a little before crinkling her nose and leaning back in to give the guy a break. "Well, kind of. We work for the same people? More or less."
"Oh." Steve blinks a moment, then a faint smile eases his expression. "Okay. So you're with -- okay. Nice to meet you. I'm Steve." Yes, she knows that.
"Hi Steve," Janet chirps. "Now, about your image..." She swings her leg in place and plants her hand back on his sketchpad to support her lean.
"Does it -- have a problem?" Steve says, continuing the general theme of confusion. His brow knits, and he tries carefully to work his sketchbook out from underneath Janet's hand.
"Not a /problem/, so much as a total lack of one." Janet does not immediately release the sketchbook, though eventually, she gives in to his careful patience and lifts her hand.
Don't smear his picture, Janeeeeeet. Steve draws his sketchbook off the table so it is less likely to get manhandled. "I thought the stars and stripes was the image."
"Don't get me started on your uniform," Janet retorts, rolling her eyes and shifting in place. "I'm talking about your--" Again with the hand waves that indicate his current attire. She leans back toward him. "You need style. You've got the looks, yes--" she pauses for a fraction of a second to sweep her eyes across him appraisingly, then continues, "But you need pizazz! Do you trust me?" No, Steve, no!
"I--" Steve looks down at his clothing to try and figure out what she's talking about. He looks back up at her blankly. "I don't -- know you, ma'am."
Janet slides off the table with a little hop, clapping her hands together in front of her. "Don't worry about that. You will!" she says with a beam before lifting her hands and trying to air-measure him. "Corneliani, I think. Maybe Bottega," she murmurs to herself, then leans close and reaches out to capture his chin and tip his face up. "Shame about the fall colors. THink you could have pulled of last years." As quickly as she captured him, she releases his chin and hops back a step. "This may take some time. Don't worry about a thing though!"
"Uhm." Steve peers at her when she tips his chin up, a little caged. "I don't really have any idea what you're talking about."
"It's okay. I'm used to men who don't," Janet reassures (or terrifies) him, stretching across the table to reach her abandoned coffee cup. "Just leave it all up to me!" With another bright smile and bounce in place, she spins in place to change trajectory and head back to where she had abandoned her own things, all in a flurry of activity that propels her toward the exit, fingers wiggling in farewell above her head.
Steve BAFFLES at her as she goes. What just happened.
Beware!