2012 02 04 Monet S Money

Log Title:
Monet's Money

Monet and Dajan

IC Date:

Monet's Penthouse

Brief log summary::
Monet continues taking Dajan under her wing. Dajan learns a bit about her benefactress.


There is no TS in this log::

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When Dajan gets to Griffin Towers on Park Avenue, the building is definitely high class. There's a security guard in the lobby and two doormen, one at the door and one behind a desk/counter near the elevator bays. You're stopped before you can go further in. "Are you expected, miss?"

Dajan looks every bit the picture of the country kid out of her depth as she arrives. It takes her a minute to get out of the cab (nevermind the internal struggle she had to go through to actually hail one in the first place on Monet's dime). She swallows hard and nods at the doorman. "Yessir," she says. "Ms. Monet St. Croix invited me," she says holding the short straps of her duffel bag in front of her.

The doorman behind the desk at first looks a bit incredulous about the idea, then the other doorman comes over and whispers in his ear about how Ms. St. Croix told him about the expected visitor about an hour ago when he wasn't on duty, his demeanor changes rather quickly. "Oh, yes of course." He walks with you to one of the private back elevators and turns a key to allow access to that elevator. "Can one of us take your … er … bag … up for you?" Some of the wealthier owners of the private apartments are nice and friendly when they make good natured mistakes. The one in the penthouse is not one of them, not to mention when she first moved in her father almost bought the entire building instead of just the penthouse.
Dajan reflexively nibbles her lower lip nervously as the first doorman gives her the 'yeah, right' look. But when his demeanour changes, she has to take her time breathing out so the sigh of relief doesn't come out all at once. "Yes, thank you," she says, handing over her bag, and stepping into the elevator, then pressing the button for the penthouse. Presumably the key means she should be able to get to the right floor.
The doorman takes the bag, while the other takes his place at the front desk, and heads into the elevator with you. You go past floor 60, then P1, then P2, where the elevator opens up to a private anteroom. The doorman exits the elevator and knocks on the door. The door then opens after you hear a 'come in' from inside. Voice activated door locks? Apparently. When the door opens, you see the 'quaint' penthouse Monet calls 'one of her homes' in NYC. The one she prefers, in fact. One which is bigger than most houses and takes up the top two floors. Monet's lounging back on the couch, reading something on a Kindle Fire.
The doorman holds his hand out to Dajan as he's holding her bag.

Dajan rides the elevator in apprehensive silence. She follows the doorman to the door, still silent. The voice activated door locks cause her to widen her eyes. "Um… hi, Monet?" she quavers, as the doorman leads her inside. "All set." She closes her eyes briefly, trying to shove random concerns that this might be Monet's idea of a joke and she's about to get kicked back out — out of her mind.

Monet gets up off the couch and walks over to the doorman and Dajan, picking up a $20 from the endtable along the way. She puts it in the doorman's hand, and the doorman hands Dajan her bag and walks outside the door. "Thank you, Ms. St. Croix, and if you or your friend need any-" the door's shut on him and Monet turns to smile at Dajan. "Hi Dajan, welcome to home sweet home. I havent really had all the rooms decorated yet so you can take one of the bedrooms that aren't yet. I mean, they all have beds and some furniture but otherwise they're rather sparse. Down that hall and up the stairs, or there's another hallway there for another couple.
Monet gets up off the couch and walks over to the doorman and Dajan, picking up a $20 from the endtable along the way. She puts it in the doorman's hand, and the doorman hands Dajan her bag and walks outside the door. "Thank you, Ms. St. Croix, and if you or your friend need any-" the door's shut on him and Monet turns to smile at Dajan. "Hi Dajan, welcome to home sweet home. I havent really had all the rooms decorated yet so you can take one of the bedrooms that aren't yet. I mean, they all have beds and some furniture but otherwise they're rather sparse. Down that hall and up the stairs, or there's another hallway there for another couple."

Dajan tries not to wince at the doorman getting the door shut in his face, but looks up at Monet, listening as she describes all the options for the room. She considers for a moment and asks, "I know this is probably going to sound like a silly question — but do any of them come with bathtubs instead of showers? I treated myself to a trip to LUSH the day of the groundhog thing, but I'd love to go back and get one of their bath bomb things." Obvious she's nervous; her accent has withdrawn back and she's speaking more 'proper' English now.

Monet nods a little. "Four of the bedrooms on the second floor have private bathrooms, as does the master bedroom obviously. Well.. technically they have showers -and- bathtubs." She takes your hand and heads down the hallway and to the stairs, passing by what looks like a very elaborate study and a library. Further down you can see that there's even a gym and…. nah that couldn't be a bowling alley. She heads up the stairs with you, "Actually there's this one with a pretty good view of the city and the balcony overlooks the garden and pool."

Bathtubs /and/ showers. Dajan doesn't know what to say to that, so she remains silent. She follows Monet on the tour. "Wow," she breathes, at the sight of the study and library. "Oh, cool," she lets slip as she sees the gym. "…whoa, a bowling alley?" she blurts, surprised, when they pass the bowling alley.

When they get to the one with the view, Dajan looks around it with the continued wide, saucer eyes. She drops her bag right by the door and goes to step out onto the balcony, despite the weather. "Whoa…beautiful," she murmurs, turning back to Monet. "This … this is just amazing."

Monet looks around. "Well it's better than the brownstone, but not quite as nice as the ones in Morocco or Algeria. But yeah, I like it." She walks out onto the balcony with Dajan, looking over at the pool on the outside of the first floor, near the garden and tennis/badminton court. You also might notice the building across the street has some telescopes aimed at this apartment building. "I'm used to a bigger estate but … what can you do with New York and limited real estate, right?"

Dajan laughs, unable to help herself at 'better than the brownstone'. Her accent starts to come back, as the laughter has broken a little of her own internal tension. "I bet I'd'a been just a smidge less impressed with the brownstone, an' that's only because the place I was stayin' at was /one room/ in a brownstone, rather than the whole, entire thing, yeah."
"Telescopes," she repeats. "That'd be those boys you mentioned the day we met, huh?" She shakes her head. "I guess pitiful horndogs come all the way across the human spectrum, no matter how much money anybody's got."

Monet nods a bit. "Yeah. I actually considered flying over there to explain to them about not being voyeurs with some carefully executed violence, but I figure if I'm actually just increasing the aesthetic beauty of the neighborhood by letting them see me." She shrugs a bit. "Not like I have anything to be ashamed of, right?" She peers at you. "So, like this room?"

"No, you should anyway," Dajan says. "You /are/ beautiful, but that doesn't mean they get to be disrespectful pervs." That's her opinion, anyway. "Didn't their mamas raise them right? Obviously not." She makes a mental note of the location of the telescopes. Those guys may find themselves pranked.

"Like it? I love it. Monet, it's like …like a palace!"

Monet sits up on the railing. "No, the palace is in Algeria." She smiles as she listens to you. "If you feel they need to be pranked, try to do it while here to watch." She shrugs, smiling. "I don't need a telescope" Apparently the whole mind reading thing is still going to happen, even if she doesn't go delving deep. "Okay so first thing we're going to need to do if figure out ways to spruce up the room. It looks so sparse, no personality at all."

Monet oh's, "Which does remind me, the buyer is coming over with a variety of outfits."
Dajan looks over her shoulder at Monet, since she had only let the pranking enter her head as a passing thought. "I know this is your physical space," she says gently, "But could you maybe please let me have the privacy of my own headspace? I know telepathy's one of those powers usually like, always on, but if a tin foil hat will help keepin' my thoughts from botherin' you, I'm happy to oblige." She offers a smile, to take any possible prickliness out of the words.

"Oh, no, seriously, just some curtains for the windows. I don't need anythin' special." She looks down at the carpeted floor. "It's plenty cozy already."

Dajan looks up again at the mention of the buyer, and just nods. She walks her bag to the nearest closet and sets it down. "You're gonna have to coach me a li'l bit here. I have never dealt with a buyer."

Monet hops off the rail and pats your cheek. "Oh you poor, sweet, deprived person." Okay she sort of glossed over the whole 'privacy of ones own headspace' thing, but she hasnt been doing that much of that since the mall at least. She walks over to the bag. "It's just a personal shopper who gets items which will look good on you, then we have some people around your frame and figure to model the outfits, and you then choose which ones you'd like to try on yourself. Shopping without all that hassle."
"Wow," Dajan breathes, upon hearing the expression. "I guess that does make it easier." She lets Monet get away with glossing over the 'privacy of her own headspace' thing. She just resigns herself to the idea they may have to have this conversation again. "So I just pick the ones I like enough to try on on my own. That's — really kinda cool. You are gonna spoil me."

Monet shrugs. "I think of it more as beautifying the area in which I live, especially if you're going to be here as well." She smies. "Like I said, I'm just not a fan of grunge. Oh…. I never asked and didnt bother to check in your head, what sort of powers do you have anyway? And would you like to see the rest of the penthouse?" She nudges the duffle bag with her foot a bit.

Dajan listens, chalking it all up to Monet logic. "Well, the room is anythin' /but/ grungy as it is," she observes. "Oh, I shift for situations, I guess is the best way to put it. I can grow claws. I can enhance my hearin' or my eyesight. And when my hands are full, I can bust out an extra pair of arms. It's just stuff that made it easy to look after the bebes, mainly." She shrugs. "Been havin' to practice some, though, what with all the stuff I have found myself gettin' into lately."

Monet nods a little. "Oh, well that's not too odd. I've known a few people who grow claws. The extra hands is a new one - are you going to need any sorts of outfits with extra sleeves? We can get a tailor up here as well."
"Not extra sleeves as such," Dajan says, after a moment of thinking about it. "But maybe someethin' that allows me to pop them out without ruinin' the outfit? I basted the seams of all my own stuff, and then put velcro in." She shrugs. It was a cheap and expedient solution. "I don't go around with the extra arms out unless there's a situation where I actually /need/ 'em. Like if I had to juggle dishes and suchlike. Even at the diner, nobody seemed to mind, because the ones who knew didn't care. An' anyone else chalked it up to rationalization. People see what they wanna until they can't pretend anymore."

Monet nods a bit. "I'll call Pierre. Pretty sure Louis Vitton doesn't come with the extra arms versions" She nudges the duffle bag again with her foot, leaning against the closet doorframe. "People are quite good at deluding themselves. Lying to themselves and others is usually second nature to most people, like I said." Another nudge. "You don't have some dumb codename or something right?"

Dajan watches Monet nudge the duffel bag. "I promise once I get it unpacked, I'll toss it, honest an' truly." A faint blush as she says it, since her humble bag is clearly way beneath the St. Croix standard. "Well, people are scared of things outside their experience," she points out. "You don't have to be scared because, wow, with your powers, there's nothin' you can't handle all by yourself, I expect. But for most people? Things they don't understand — they're afraid it's gonna come and take over, and take away what they have from them. It's not rational, no. But it is human nature."
"Codename?" Dajan shakes her head. "No. A friend suggested I come up with one but … well, the only one I could think of was a family nickname I don't think I want the whole world callin' me by."

Monet shrugs. "Honestly, I never really saw the need to have a codename. I mean…. I see the reason people use them - secret identity, they want to be able to use their powers without being recognized… But I don't understand why people who don't go around in masks use codenames, or people who don't have secret identities." She shakes her head. "You wouldn't believe how often I was 'asked' to choose a codename. I chose M just to shut up the incessant yapping. Initials. Hardly even a codename." She grins.

"Well, again, your power set kinda makes it pointless to have one," Dajan suggests after a moment of thought. "I mean, unless you dressed up in a full cover costume that covered your face and your hair, there's no hiding you behind just 'a mask'." She considers. "But I mean, you'd need super speed, or the ability to be in two places at once or clonin' yourself to protect yourself and your family. So I guess it's that same 'stuff we need to believe to make us to feel better'. And a little obfuscation, even if somebody could yank off the mask, is better than just givin' it away right off the bat?" She's never had to consider the question.

Monet shrugs a little. "Actually I do have superspeed. Not to the extent you're considering though." She scrunches her nose a bit. "Masks are just so uncomfortable. Not to mention, those silly domino masks don't actually do much to disguise you - it's more of an awkward fashion statement."

Monet says, "Soo…. if you do pick some stupid codename, what's this family nickname you'd choose?"
"Yeah, that's why I went with goggles," Dajan admits with no small amount of sheepishness. They cover her eyes and most of her freckles at least. "Well, the family, they called me Hustle, on amount of how I was kinda the one who got everybody up, fed, dressed, ready an' out the door on time." She shrugs. "But I just don't think it sounds very heroic. To say not'ing of the spin people are gonna put on it. I've seen the name 'Hustler' on the newsstands. So —- yeah, not a good idea."

Monet grins. "Doesn't exactly have much to do with your powers either. But yeah, I can think of a few dozen ways to tease you with the name Hustle." She grins, crossing her arms. "Anyway, lets show you the rest of the place." She heads out of the room.

"If there's one, there's always a few dozen," Dajan agrees. She follows Monet out of the room. "You said you had mutant friends. What kinda codenames do they use?"

Monet thinks as she walks with you, passing by the other bedrooms and over to the arcade/rec room. Once inside, she starts talking again. "Well there's Guido, he came up with the brilliant code name 'Strong Guy'… there's Paige, who went with Husk, which is actually one of the smarter codenames I've noticed, despite her being pretty hayseed she's not all that much like one compared to our classmates back at the mansion. There's Alex…. Havok." She pauses. "There was Synch…." Then she takes a different route. "Thing… Ben. Which I find to be a rather cruel, self-deprecatory codename to be honest, considering his 'boss' and so called friend calls himself 'Mister Fantastic.'" She makes quotes with her fingers, "Yes, Benjamin, you're THING…. and I'm MISTER FANTASTIC." She shakes her head. "Okay admittedly he's not a mutant but still, the codename thing still applies."

Dajan listens. "Strong Guy is kinda … truth in advertising, at least?" she suggests. She listens watching Monet's expression and observing silently when she takes tangents and different directions. "Yes, now that you mention that, I agree," Dajan says, subdued, as the subject goes to Ben's codename. "I bet Ben could pick his own codename if he wants to, but they so famous. It'd be hard after all this time to get anybody to call him anyt'ing diff'rent."

"Now that's weird. 'Cause the Fantastic Four are public anyway. They got codenames they don't even need. Confusing, for sure. Maybe it's the merchandizing," she adds, thinking of the (4) logo blanket she got from Ben on Groundhog Day.

Monet smiles. "Strong Guy is because Guido's not very bright. Sweet, though." She walks around the arcade room, so you can see the pool table, ping pong, some vintage pinball games and arcade games, before she heads out and heads over to the den, then downstairs and leads you over to the gym, which pretty much looks like a full gym with all sorts of pieces of equipment, some specially made to try to give someone like Monet a workout with magnets since 50 ton weights would likely be dangerous to the building's architecture. There are weights here also, and other exercise equipment, but they're really not thins which would be useful for Monet anyway, further implying she intended to have others move in to keep her company, just like the having 8 bedrooms did.

"I think a lot of it's just being mean and condescending to each other. I wouldnt be surprised it Ben picked out the codename himself because he felt so bad about his appearance. And his wonderful friends didn't talk him out of the insulting moniker. Like I said, anyone can be hypocrites." She shrugs a bit. "It particularly doesn't make sense becaus they -are- public heroes. So it's ego or, in Ben's case, self-loathing, which he really shouldnt be."

"I guess," Dajan allows. "But it's still a real honest name. Nobody can say he misled 'em with a name like that." She pauses to give wide-eyed looks of being impressed to all the equipment in the playroom. "Wow. A Tempest game. My dad loved that game." A reminder of her family that isn't painful brings a smile to her face.

"They're such nice people," Dajan says, wonderingly in response to Monet's assessment of the Richards extended clan. "But Ben's the nicest guy. The nicest guy /ever/!" Spoken like one with a recent rescue in her history. "…and he's not a … a Thing." She shakes her head. "He's a person." She wrinkles her nose. "But I guess he has his own reasons for not changin' it aside from marketing." She looks at the gym carefully. "Wow. Do you have martial arts instructors in here, too?"
Monet leans against the wall as you go over to the Tempest game. "Yeah, Benjamin's far too nice and smarter than he lets on. I mean, he's not a genius, but he puts himself down far too much to try to be the jovial strongman clown. You don't become an astronaut if you're as dumb as he sometimes acts. Plus I've met him in another reality, and his children." She listens to you as you go into the gym and ask about martial arts instructors. "I don't really need any, I know 16 different forms of martial arts. Why, have you thought about learning something for self-defense? I'd recommend it highly."

"Maybe he just doesn't like comin' off like a big showoff," Dajan muses. Even she knew the story of the Fantastic Four and how they got their powers. "Yes," she answers, in regard to Monet's question. "Pretty much /everybody/ from my friends to Spider-Man has suggested it. An' given how much I seem to find myself in the middle of stuff that requires me usin' my powers, it's probably a good idea. So — I should call you 'sifu Monet' then?" She turns to look up at Monet hopefully.

Monet frowns anyway. "He's not a showoff, but you don't need to be a showoff to choose a name which is synonymous with monster. It means he actually thinks of himself as a monster. And I don't even need to read his mind to know that. They should have convinced him to have another name - not just the first thought that popped in his head when he saw his reflection. I actually can understand why Spider-Man needs a secret identity." She doesn't mention what she knows about Spider-Man's secret identity, or even that he's not a mutant. She watches you. "You want -me- to teach you martial arts?" she asks, a bit incredulously."

"I agree, but it's his choice. Maybe he lets the world call him Thing because he knows no matter what he looks like outside, he's still a man on the inside. Cher bebe thought it was the coolest thing in the world to meet him, and even though he didn't show it much, I could see it in his eyes that it meant a lot to have a kid lookin' up to him." Dajan smiles in remembrance, not knowing what else to say on the subject.

"Well, if you know sixteen different forms, I'd get a good, diverse knowledge on the subject," Dajan points out. "But you'd have to promise to be gentle. I don't have invulnerability or anythin' like that to stop you from breakin' me like a wishbone."
Monet hrms. "I still think he calls himself Thing because he thinks he's a monster, at least in appearance, and appearances matter to him. Which is understandable, but not very fair to him." She shrugs. "He's good with kids. He was pretty good with his own kids in the alternate earth too."

She shakes her head a bit. "Oh if I were to teach you, you'd be hitting the ground a lot. Even if I don't use my powers. If I hit the ground a lot when I was learning them so will you." She pauses. "But… okay, sure I'll teach you. Any preferences?"

Monet pats your head a bit. "Besides, I could break you like a wishbone without using martial arts, stop worrying." That's supposed to be a way to stop worrying?

"No reason it can't be both," Dajan shrugs. "People are more multifaceted than you give them credit for." She's noticed Monet seems to pick a negative trait to define a person at first before she acknowledges their positive ones. "It's not fair to him, but it's his choice."

"I been doin' a lot of that anyway," Dajan points out with a shrug. "Spider-Man, the honey badgers. I want to at least stand a chance of keepin' my feet." She smirks faintly at Monet. "I meant the super-strength," she clarifies. "I'm not a complete ninety eight pound weaklin'."

Monet shrugs. "He's too nice a person to be defined as a monster, even if it is his own choice. He's intellectually smart enough to be an astronaut and emotionally stupid enough to not respect himself as much as he should."

She looks at you. "Yeah, you do but you fall on your butt without learning anything. With me, it will have a purpose!" she says with a grin. She nudges you. "By the way, I'd be tougher than you even without the super-strength. Dr. McCoy said I have a peak human physiology, mutant powers or not. Thing is, depending on your normal capabilities, it helps to figure out which style of martial arts you should focus on. Hard or soft, mixture of the two, etc.

Monet says, "But sure, I'll show you some stuff to help you turn people's strength against them while not falling on your butt as well. Why not? No guarantees though that I'll be a great teacher, even if I'm great at pretty much everything. That old saying, those who can, do; those who cannot, teach? Well…. I 'can' so no promises."
"Or emotionally untaught. Or emotionally unfamiliar. Ain't the same thing as stupid," Dajan says seriously. "Growin' up with a telepath, I hadda learn that what he could hear me thinkin' didn't mean he understood my thoughts the way I was thinkin' 'em. Still hadda do a lot of kid-to-grownup translatin' too." She smiles faintly in rememberance. She must've been very close to her telepathic sibling for all the memories she shares of him. "Well, I dunno about peak human physiology, but I do all right. I hadda lot to keep me physically active growin' up. An' since I got to New York."

She walks over to the window, gazing thoughtfully out at the city. "I don't mind hard work, an' fallin' on my backside. Hard on my pride, but better for me in the long run, huh?"
Monet sits at the bench press. "Trust me, if MY pride can take it, anyone's can. I have significantly more than most people. I only mind when people go out of their way to try to make me look foolish because of their own worldview of how I need to learn humility, not when it's for something logical, like showing the right way to fall, how to recover from it, and how it feels when losing your balance so you know how to do it to someone else." She crosses her legs and levitates off the press a bit. "Wasn't comfortable that way. Anyway, so you had a brother who was a telepath, or was it some sort of joined link between all seven children?"

"Andre was a telepath, but it may as well have been a joined link. I was the one who did all the runnin' around, but Andre was the one who helped us keep track of each other. Would'a been much harder without him. Plus, he's only one year younger than me, so we had some time together before the rest of the bebes came 'long, y'know?" Dajan gives a sad smile, but is glad to go back to the subject of learning. "Monet, I promise you, ain' so proud that I am gonna be mussed up much by anyting you teach me. Grew up poor, 'member. I still survived high school."

Dajan swallows. "It was right before Christmas last year. Not just him. Everybody." She says this without turning around. "Thanks for askin', though. Rather than, I mean, just diggin' it up yourself." She does turn after a mooment, "You got bad dreams, then?"

Monet nods. "Yeah well I know how it is to lose family, so I figured I shouldn't go digging. She tilts her head. "And… I wouldnt say bad dreams. Not like a nightmare or something. Disturbing dreams, which I'm not sure were dreams. They seemed real enough but at the same time they were really weird. Had to do with me being trapped in some other body and stuff. To the point I wasnt sure if I had developed a new power, like to see alternate timelines. Wouldnt be the first time I gained a new power. So I went to this doctor to ask his opinion. Mostly useless but he did have a few good ideas." She strums her finger along her lap. "I really should go back to him… he did want to do more tests to see if it's a new power or just my subconscious lamenting the fact that I feel alienated from others because I'm so much better than most people in everything, but I havent had the dreams much since then."

"That must be unsettlin'," Dajan says, consideringly. "Not knowin' whether anythin' weird in your life is natural weirdness, external weirdness, or somethin' else entirely." She settles against the wall beside the window. "So if you so surprise by me askin' you to teach me, who you would suggest instead?" It's curiosity, more than a challenge.

Monet shrugs. "I wouldnt know. I've been taught by all sorts of people. At the Xavier Institute plus private teachers from all over the world. Rich, remember. I suppose there are a lot of people who I could suggest, depending on how open you are with being a mutant. Xavier Institute - Logan's rather capable. I suppose the Avengers though I'm not so sure how open they are to mutants in general. Regular non-mutant, non-powered sifus and trainers - there's all sorts."

Dajan listens attentively, face schooled calmly, as if she were paying attention to a teacher in class. "There a reason you not feelin' teachin'? I don wanna make you feel like you onna spot. Especially, you done so much for me already." In this she is obviously sincere.

Monet shrugs. "No, I'm fine with teaching - I just haven't done it before. I'm just not the type of person who goes 'good job, but try it this way' - more the type who insults you for doing something badly, then shows you the right way. It -might- get you iritated with me. But if you still want me to, I can teach you."

Monet purses her lips. "I suppose it's a lot like a drill sergeant. You break the person down to build them up better."

Dajan considers Monet's response. "You realize that not everybody responds well to bein' insulted. Not everybody feels like they gon' rise to the challenge, so they can wipe that smug look off your face." Dajan, it appears, is familiar with the approach. "You lucky I hadda deal wit dat approach already. I tell you if you push too far, though. You think you can respect a line if I need to draw one?"

Monet nods. "I totally understand that some people are a lot more weak-willed than others and need to be coddled to learn. For them, I'm not the right person to teach them. Whew!" She makes an exxagerated motion. "Frankly, I doubt they'd deserve to learn anything if they're not willing to take the necessary steps without being given baby steps. Small risk, small reward. Big risk…" She thinks. "Can I respect a line if you need to draw one…. Depends on the line, I suppose."

Dajan shrugs. "Everybody's head is different," she says. "I guess we'll see if I feel the need to draw the line. Hopefully I'll never have to."

Monet nods. "I agree totally. Everyone's head is different. Good to see you don't go for the 'everyone is equal and the same' lie." She puts her feet down and touches the floor with them. "Okay want to see the rest of the place? By the way, don't use certain machines here, you'll hurt yourself on those ones." She motions at the very advanced ones in the corner. "They use a magnetic field attractor to increase resistance. Sort of like the elastic bands, but better."

Monet motions at the rest of the gym. "The rest is fine."

"No superstrength, me," Dajan agrees, paying close attention to which machines Monet is gesturing to. "Really ain' lookin' forward to this whole workout regime, but I got the feelin' like it or not, the universe kinda 'sees' me now. I was lucky enough to escape the blast." She swallows hard. "So I guess I'm still standin' for a reason."

Monet nods a little and heads out of the gym to continue showing you the penthouse. "Well, the whole workout thing is going to be part of it - can't do certain moves if you're not fit, regardless of how many kung fu movies you've seen to the contrary. Me, I've never really relied on luck. I prefer having skill. But I think you might just be capable. I've been wrong in the past though. I think it was in 1998." She heads to the kitchen, which is huge, with an island and gives new meaning to the term 'gourmet kitchen.' Do you cook?"

Dajan follows, having to walk a little bit faster as Monet has longer legs and therefore longer steps. "Couldn't afford kung fu movies. I got old videos from the library. An' not much of a believer in luck, me," she adds, voice solemn and serious. "Yeah. I am a hell of a cook. No Bobby Flay, me, maybe, but I never get a complaint."

Monet nods a little. "Well there's definitely anything you'd need to make… well probably anything… in here. "Okay… you saw the living room…" She walks past the living room and the 110" television mounted into the wall. "The rooms all have music that's on this little panel by each door." She motions at one of the panels in the living room before she heads outside.

Monet motions. "My bedroom's down that way, and that other hallway there has some other recreational rooms. She doesn't specify that there's a bowling alley, nor why someone like Monet would even have something like that in her home, given its working class milieu.

Dajan catches her breath at the kitchen, and smiles big, eyes alight with possibilities. She catches up with Monet at the TV, and takes a second to peer at the music panel. "This place is amazin'," is all she finally says to sum it up. "Thank you again." She jams her hands in her pockets. "I have never in my life been in a place like this."

Monet nods again. "And again, you're welcome. Nice view also." she says as she sits on the rail again. Guess when one can fly there's no fear of falling off a building. "So, any questions you want to ask or anything like that? The buyer will be here soon with a bunch of different outfits and I'd like to get through with any questions before then."

Dajan glances around, pausing to enjoy the view. "I prolly will after all this hits me, for sure," she assures Monet. "But right this secon', ain' none comin' to mind." She shrugs, with a half-smile. "Sorry. This all day-to-day for you, but kinda overwhelmin' for me."

Monet nods. "I can understand that. Sort of like the pauper meets the princess. Though again, I'm not a princess, I'm just from royal lineage. Better term would probably be nobility or royalty." Then she gets off the railing. "Hear that?" (which you would if you have enhanced hearing) sounds like the doorman inside saying "We have a Ms. Beaumont here for you, Ms. St. Croix?" on the intercom.

Dajan has been practicing keeping her enhanced hearing on all the time. Working in a diner and having to go home through a seedy neighborhood late at night, it was only sensible. "Wow, that was quick," she remarks, straightening back up and turning to go back to the living room.

Monet nods, heading back into the apartment and to the intercom. "Tip 1 when dealing with the very rich, hustle." she says, possibly as a joke. She pushes the intercom. "Send her up."

"I can hustle," Dajan ripostes back, with a wry grin. She settles herself on the sofa, though she doesn't try to even imitate Monet's innate tendency to carry herself like the royalty she is.

A minute or so later, the door open and this stylish looking woman comes in, along with three women who look roughly Dajan's build and size, and a guy pushing in a rack of clothes. "Okay just put that in the second room on the right down that hall." The models (which they happen to be) head down the hall to the spare room, along with the guy and the rack of clothes, while Monet heads to the couch to relax, motioning you to come along as well. The Ms. Beaumont goes to stand in front of you to explain what she got for Dajan. "Well, I remember what you told me on the phone and how you described her build, and a list of what you felt she should have so I hope you'll be quite happy with the selection."

Dajan listens to the explanation, watching everything with wide eyes, although she is silent for most of the process and only adds, "I'm certain I will be," her accent as withdrawn as Monet's ever heard it. The effort makes her sound a little like she's doing the rich person 'do not disappoint me' undercurrent beneath the politeness. When no one is looking, Dajan nibbles her lower lip anxiously.

The models start coming out. The first is wearing a very expensive, slinky black dress. Not quite as good as someone with Monet's figure would wear, but definitely an eye-turner. The second is wearing an evening gown made by Suzi Chin, and a third is wearing a shorter dress - looks like it is a Vera Wang. The second and third are meant for upscale parties and events, the first is more all-purpose classy. Ms Beaumont goes through a bunch of talk about how each accentuates the figure in one way or another, mentioning how it also averts the eyes from the more 'problem' areas - another example of why these dresses aren't 'Monet-worthy.' The prices are rather outrageous though if Dajan thought $105 was a lot for dinner. The first one is $350, the second is $650, and the third is 400. "I don't know about the third one" Monet says, looking over at Dajan.

Dajan breaks into a grin at the first dress, but lets them go on about the dresses. Dajan doesn't have Monet's figure and she knows it, so she isn't really offended about 'problem areas'. "I like the second one," she tells Monet, and grin growing wider, "I already have the first one." It's rolled up in its garment bag and a lot of tissue paper and will need pressing before she can wear it after its time in Dajan's bag. "Lookin' for more everyday wear type stuff, though. Not gonna be doin' a whole lot of clubbin', I don't think."

The models head back into the back, and then come back a bit afterwards with some casualwear. The first is wearing Guess designer jeans and a 'CLASH' midriff shirt, with a half suede-strappy jacket. The second is wearing capris and a Dior shirt, while the third is wearing a mid-size skirt by Marc Jacobs and a Louis Vitton blouse.
Monet puts her hand over Dajan's mouth before she can say anything 'poor' "She likes them all, we'll take all of them, can you show us the specialty outfits?"

Dajan watches, and makes a startled, muffled noise as Monet puts a hand over her mouth. "We will /not/," she says, ducking backward. "Just the first and the third, thank you. Have you brought any Kay Cera with you?" Dajan may be poor and not generally of the same social caliber, but her taste in fashion has been, quite obviously, limited by her income rather than her preferences.

Ms Beaumont smiles as the girls rush out and change. "I'm so glad you asked, because … the next few were by Kay Cera, the third by Van Dyne." The first is a slimming casualwear two piece, accentuating the bosom and shaping the bodice. The second is a pair of jeans and glittery shirt with a michiyuki jacket, also from the Kay Cera collection. The third is… different. "And this would be one of the specialty outfits for your friend. "The bodysuit and sash are designed by Van Dyne, and the Bebe Serena cropped jacket adds a little 'look i'm dangerous' feel to it." Monet looks over at Dajan. "She's very discreet, don't worry."
Monet asks, "Bebe Serena is so last year, I find that Domino Jacquard goes much better with Van Dyne."
Dajan lights up at the Cera pieces and gives them all the nod. Literally. She simply indicates them with a sweep of her hand and a nod. At the mention of super suits and discretion, Dajan nods again to indicate her understanding, but waves of the 'look, I'm dangerous' outfit. She apparently would prefer something a bit more practical in her 'heroing' type clothing. She concentrates a little at Monet, intentionally projecting her need for something that will adapt if she needs to grow the extra pair of arms. "I like Yeojin Bae with Van Dyne, actually," she finally says aloud after a moment of watching Monet and Beaumont go back and forth.

You go through another 25 outfits - all designer brands. Van Dyne, Louis Vitton, Yeojin Bae… the lowest end brands are still rather expensive like Gucci and Guess. Monet leans back as you seem to be actually picking rather good choices, though with one of them she does shake her head no to with a thumbs down motion. You even find one 'heroing' outfit which not only looks fabulous and maneuverable, it even is made in such a way that it doesn't need to be remade if you need to add extra arms!

Dajan is finally, finally beginning to get over the freaking out over how much money Monet is throwing around. It's her money, she finally manages to tell herself. If this is how she chooses to spend it, Dajan will be quietly grateful and do her best to be a good roommate. She grins sideways as Monet vetoes one outfit. "All right, you're right about that one." She seems very relieved at the costume piece being flexible enough to allow for her extra arms. Inwardly, she whistles. She knows what unstable molecules are and figures they're probably more expensive than most of the other outfits. "That will about do it, I think," she concludes, accent hidden away again after Monet put a hand over her mouth. She manages an expectant look so Beaumont will catch the unspoken question asking how soon delivery can be expected.

Monet smiles. "Put it on the St. Croix account okay? Thanks again, you're a life saver … I mean look what I have to work with - she has good taste but has been so deprived." The two exchange pleasantries and the clothes you chose to keep are brought up to your room after Monet lets the man know where to bring them. A few minutes later, they're gone. "Okay Dajan, I'm going to head out. Try to freshen up make yourself comfortable."

Dajan relaxes again once Beaumont and her coterie have departed. "I will," she says, taking no offense at the 'look what I have to work with' comment; it's true, after all. Impulsively, she gives Monet a quick hug. "I can have somet'ing on the stove when you get back. I figure you got the kitchen stocked, for sure, an' I can find a recipe for someting your palate can handle if none of my own fit what you feel like. Least I can do."
Monet nods. "Sounds like a plan." She heads out to the balcony and flies off.

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