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The Devil's Nest [Monday afternoon]

Joan was normally quite above this sort of behavior. She inspired this sort of thing, where she was from. But all morning, she had found herself highly distracted by the simplest things -- such as picking up Eric's leather pants from the dry cleaners. The sheer mental imagery had nearly left her fanning herself.

So she did what she always did: she repressed it for now, however she could. She was sitting in a booth in the bar as she went over tax documents today, because that was the least sexy thing she could find. She was smoking, and rather than anything with a kick, she'd gotten some ice water.

In case it was needed to pour on herself, rather than drink.

[open, yes!]

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It had been a weekend that not even burying himself in work could lessen a few urges of the flesh. So, today Howard ventured out to find an interested partner.

Or maybe a drink.

Possibly both.

"Ms. Holloway, a pleasure to find you here."

"Mr. Stark!" Joan looked up with a smile, her skin flushing a little. Oh, god, was she flustered? What was wrong with her? She had to get over this...whatever it was, like, right now. "How are you?"

At least it wasn't visible, mostly.

And if it was visible, it just would have been attractive. This week did things to a man, after all.

"Starving for a drink and your fine company," he replied with a grin.

Well. That was certainly more important than paperwork. Joan set aside her pen, heading for the bar with a little peek over her shoulder. Insane week or not, she knew what she was doing. "Scotch, then?"

"On the rocks, darling." Because he could get away with that, it seemed.

And there went the raised brow, but her smirk was a fair indication that she didn't exactly mind. And don't mind Joan just leaning an extra bit over the bar as she poured his drink. She knew exactly how low-cut her dress was.

"How's the engineering today? Any fabulous breakthroughs?"

She really didn't care. She was just making conversation because that was how this worked.

Well now, Howard would never object to something like that. And if he did, something was terribly wrong with the world.

"Nothing so far," he replied, following her movements with great interest. "A few kinks to work out before any breakthroughs can happen. You know how it is."

"Of course. The men I used to work for couldn't seem to make headway unless they were half inside a bottle," Joan offered, sliding the scotch over and pouring one for herself. "Though this was advertising, so it's fairly hit or miss. Remember that when in twenty years you start seeing Kodak Carousel ads at home."

"Did you have a hand in them?" Howard asked, downing the drink in one go to feel the burn in his throat.

"Only occasionally," Joan said, and she was more inclined to sip a drink. All the better to smile at him over the rim of her glass. "The last campaign I helped with was Belle Jolie lipstick. Mostly I was in charge of making sure no one got too drunk on their lunch hour or slept with the wrong secretary."

"I'll make sure to invest in that nonetheless," Howard replied, pushing his glass toward her.

"I feel like I should get a hold of some stocks figures from the last few years for you. What's time travel good for if not a little unethical gain?" Joan wondered, pouring him another before hopping up to perch on the bar. It was starting to feel a little warm in here, and she was wondering if maybe February was just insanely stuffy on the island.

Or maybe something else was in the air. Either way, up on the bar she perched, legs neatly crossed at the knee.

Well then. Howard had no objection to a nice pair of legs being near him.

"You'd be a killer in the business world," Howard informed her, putting a hand on her ankle. For now.

"You think so?" she asked, eyes on that hand as she twirled her ankle a little. If that was intended to draw him a little closer, well...these things happen.

"No one has insight quite like a dame," he replied, moving his hand on up her leg. "And I'd bet they don't think you can manage it, so they won't even see you coming."

He'd worked with Peggy Carter during the war. It was damn obvious how much more determined and talented a woman had to be to get anywhere.

"It's nice to know you see the value of intelligent women," Joan noted, a touch absently, because she was still fairly transfixed by that hand. And maybe she was leaning a little closer.

"You never say the dames working in Europe during the war," he replied, leaning forward for a kiss.

And hello there. Joan's reply, witty though it might have been, was suddenly not nearly as important as twining her hand in his shirtfront and pulling him closer.

It wasn't the first time she'd done something like this at work. And Eric would...probably be fine with this if he ever found out. She might even get a raise, honestly.

Well, as long as she'd get a raise...

"How private is this place?"

"Private enough if you know where to look," she replied, hopping down off the bartop and reaching for his hand. "And I happen to know how to turn off the security cameras. Come on."

"Anywhere you lead me, darling," he replied, following easily. And not just because he wanted to see her walk in front of him. Really.

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The Devil's Nest [Monday afternoon]

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