aa_valkyrie | Fashionista Buzz (Janet) (Reply)

The Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division -- or SHIELD, as the branch is commonly known -- makes one of its few public homes in the heart of midtown Manhattan, not far from the bustle of Times Square. The lobby is drawn in lines of sleek, modern metal, with a good deal more security in place than your average city skyscraper, although the measures are perhaps not obvious to the trained eye. The front windows of the building allow sunlight to stream in during daylight hours; it is not immediately evident how big a gun would be required to dent them. You can barely tell there was just recently a hole in the ceiling. (Thanks, Thor.)

This is kind of like a front lawn. At least as close to on the sprawling concrete streets of Midtown, New York City where the Shield HQ makes its home. In contrast to the well suited denizens of SHIELD, Valkyrie looks positively casual in her urban armor comprised of a black leather jacket and pair of dark jeans. The sword of her back is curiously unnoticable, blink and it is there and gone again like the Cherise cat. Not paying attention to much, she pokes at the cellphone in her hand frowning at the supposedly necessary device. Hrm. Oh look! She changed her ringtone.

It's the ringtone that does it -- loud, and western, and obnoxious. I mean, not that Valkyrie isn't enough of an attention getter, but really, the ringtone does it. And then she earns a double take all on her own. Janet slows, stares, then does a slow, closing circuit until she stands close enough to stare up (and up) at the... well. Valkyrie. "You are /so/ unfair," she greets.

'I'm WALKING ON SUNSHINE -- WHOOOA.' And don't it feel good? Valkyrie stares at her phone in something akin to frank horror, pushing buttons in an attempt to get it stop. Eventually she does, but her bemusement is transferred to Janet and her notably atypical greeting. "Pardon me?"

"You are a designer's wet dream." Well, Valkyrie isn't going to get unconfused anytime soon. "It's not fair. Do you know what percentage of the population has your proportions?" Janet puts her hands on her hips and huffs.

Uhm. Valkyrie blinks down at the small, dark and vivacious woman who is presently addressing her. "I would imagine the few who bear arms? Do you speak of clothes...design?" What.

"Of course I do. Who do you model for? I don't recognize the look..." Janet replies, eyeing the other woman's clothing critically as she starts to circle around, almost buzzing in her concentration. "I mean, you work it, but it has no flair."

Valkyrie barks out a laugh, low and rough with amusement that draws lines to the corners of her eyes with the breadth of her grin. "I think you mistake me. While I am flattered by the association to your traditional stance of American beauty, I am no such creature." While she is tall, there is strength throughout her frame that does not quite fit with the standard waifishness. Her icy blue eyes follow the buzzing pattern of Janet's steps as she circles like a particularly intrigued insect. "It is functional?" She defends with a touch of confusion. Wait. Are you insulting her clothes?

Tending more toward the waifish herself, Janet would never insult her clothing. At least not intentionally. "Traditional stance? You would pummel tradition and leave the designers begging for more. But, if you say so... Hi! I'm Janet Van Dyne." She sticks her hand out and grins brightly.

"I am told that it is uncouth for one to beat upon the traditions of another sovereign nation," Valkyrie drawls with dry amusement. It starts wars and all that. "Well met, Ms. Van Dyne. I am Valkyrie." Which may be misconstrued to be 'Val Kyrie', because that isn't an /name/. She clasps Janet's hand, her own large and thick with callouses to offer an awkward shake -- like using a gesture you've seen on television but never practiced yourself.

"Oooh, foreign born? That explains it." A flicker of surprise chases across Jan's face at the handshake, but she manages to /not/ comment on the callouses, at least. "What brings you here?"

"Yes." Very foreign. Alien, even. Valkyrie smiles and simply says, "Ah, employment." A nod of her head indicates the tall and shiny SHIELD building. "An acquaintance gave me a rather...impeccable note of recommendation."

Janet looks back over her shoulder at the tall and shiny SHIELD building, then back at Val, mouth hanging open in shiny-eyed delight. "That is /awesome/. What department? I'm research. Who recommended you? How long have you been here? Do you have lunch plans? I'm meeting a friend for lunch. You should come with." She stops suddenly and looks the taller woman over, then nods to herself. "At least three inches."

That is a lot of abrupt questions. "I..." Valkyrie stares down at Janet in wide-eyed confusion, having only caught about a third of what just came out of her mouth. "No, No, lunch plans." Uh. "Three inches of what?"

"Heels. You should /definitely/ wear heels. And McQueen. You would stop traffic in McQueen." Janet turns on her own heels and starts heading toward the building. "11:30. I'll let Pepper know."

"Why would I wear the unnecessary trappings of patriarchy?" Valkyrie mutters softly to herself as Janet turns and heads towards the building. Who is this Queen? "11:30...Are we to meet here?"

Let's say yes, because otherwise poor Val is lost, since Janet is already out of earshot, hell bent on preparing