bakerstreet | The Masquerade Meme

The Masquerade Meme

The { MASQUERADE } Meme

Masquerade
Paper faces on parade
Masquerade

It's a splendid night for a party!

You received an invitation to a masquerade party and after wondering who exactly throws these things anymore outside of people in Italy and the strange people in that Vanilla Sky movie, you've decided to attend! Decked out in your best (or maybe not so best - it may have been last minute, after all), you descend on the party and prepare to make it a night to remember.

Is it your friend's annual Halloween party with a twist? Perhaps you're an international spy, trying to find out the best way to steal the Crown Jewels. Maybe this is part of Spirit Week at your high school and you really wish that your classmates would be more creative next time.

Elaborate Venetian, playful animals, dazzling supernatural creatures - the night is young. Have fun.

:::

This is not a RNG meme. Your characters' role and situation is entirely up to you. "But how do you play?" you might ask. It's as simple as 1, 2, 3!

1.) Post with your character. In the subject line, type of your character's name and canon. If you'd like, in the comment section, you can describe what mask/costume your character is wearing.
2.) Tag around! This is a party after all, and your character can't find any of their usual crew behind their masks (or maybe they can and need to tease them mercilessly for their choice of costume).
3.) Profit!

First person to drop the chandelier buys drinks for everyone!

stolen from

dammithardison here

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He turned to kiss her temple again as he unlocked the door, pushing it open and waving her through, "Ladies first." As far as boltholes went, it was a good one, better than their usual digs, that was for sure, not exactly 5-star, but definitely classy.

He locked the door behind them, dragging his own suitcase over to the bed, swinging it up and popping it open, "Yay, real clothes." There was also a hard case containing one of his bows that he arched a brow at, "Apparently they're expecting us to run into trouble on the way out. I mean, I would just say they're being cautious, but when is SHIELD ever just being cautious?"

Despite herself, a ghost of a smile curved her lips at the brief kiss, but when he opened the door she disentangled herself and walked in ahead of him. “I don’t know, I kind of like the suit,” she said. Her own outfit, though, deserved a good burning. Kicking off the shoes and dropping the skirt immediately, and thankfully for the last time, Natasha frowned at Clint’s comment about SHIELD. Hefting her own suitcase onto a chair, she opened it to find a similar case containing her Widows Bite, glocks and holsters inside. “I guess we have a special dinner coming our way,” she replied. Part of her was ready for this mission to be over while another part was already anticipating the action to come.

In a hidden pocket of her suitcase, she secured the recorder, transmitter, and all other communications devices as well as the spent cartridges that had contained the drugs she had used on the mark before zipping it back up. She would worry about clothes later after they had their orders. “Why don’t you call and get it sent up?” she asked as she headed for the washroom.

He'd already tucked away his copy of the confession, as well as the drive containing the pictures of the rest of their mark's team, just in case. He nodded, "Will do." A crooked little smile followed, arching a brow at her, "And you like the suit? Might have to keep it around in that case."

Not that he'd actually wear it more often than he already wore suits, which was once in a blue moon, when he absolutely had to for a mission or a press junket that they couldn't wear their uniforms too, though those sort were becoming increasingly less common, which he at least appreciated.

Entering the bathroom, Natasha left the door partially open. It was tempting to take a hot bath and relax, but until they had their final orders then relaxing wasn’t on the shortlist of things to do right now. “You should,” she replied, “Maybe I can get you on more of these type of missions so you have ample opportunity to wear it.” Even though she couldn’t see him from the other room, she could easily picture the smile he wore and smiled herself in return.

Stripping off the rest of her clothing and letting it pile on the bathroom floor, she took a few deep breaths, letting them out slowly. “I am disposing of this dress, though.” Wearing a corset was one thing, but having to fight in one was something else entirely.

Adjusting the temperature on the shower, she let it run a few seconds to warm up before stepping in.

"I'll even help you set it on fire, if you like." He knew for as often as she threatened to set work clothes on fire, she only had once, twice if the time that it was an accident counted, and he didn't think it did. As she'd predicted, he was smiling, the usual wry little quirk that it was when he knew trouble was on the way.

He waited until the water was running to call down to have their dinner delivered. Mostly he was hoping that they'd have time to actually eat and maybe get a couple hours of sleep before it was time to move on to the next thing, but he wasn't going to count on it.

Of course, dinner had arrived by the time Natasha had finished in the shower, along with a miniature flash drive that Clint hadn't yet popped into his handheld, figuring it would save time if they both got the message at once. And besides that: there was a perfectly good dinner just sitting there, and he wasn't going to let it go to waste.

“You just want an opportunity to play Robin Hood with the flaming arrow again,” she teased before the water drowned out most of the sounds from the other room. She had specifically left the door open so she would still be able to hear any signs of commotion should anything go horribly wrong. Even so, Natasha didn’t take as quick of a shower as she could, instead standing under the hot water and letting the pressure of the stream massage her scalp and shoulders. It was only when she heard the muffled sound of the door signaling that their dinner had arrived that she finally shut off the water and stepped out. Toweling off quickly, she wrapped the towel around her hair and slipped on one of the fuzzy white robes the hotel had provided.

“What do they have for us?” Natasha asked as she walked out of the bathroom, in regards to both the message and the food.

He hadn't bothered answering the first statement, mostly because they both knew it was true, and if he argued he'd just come off as protesting too much, as it were.

He was halfway through his own dinner when she emerged, and he slid the other plate closer, "Chicken and rice." It was, in fact, some kind of fancy chicken risotto, and Clint probably knew it, "And we got a message, haven't looked at it yet, figured it'd save time if we both got it at once." And there was that smile again, "And between you and me? I'm going to eat first. Rather not ruin my appetite."

Looking at the fancy meal, Natasha rolled her eyes at his most basic assessment of it. Taking a seat, she tucked one foot under herself and grabbed a fork, wasting no time in taking her first bite. A little champagne and a few hors d’oeuvres didn’t go very far, and her dress had been too tight to eat too much, so she was more than a little hungry right now.

“I suppose they wouldn’t have ordered us food if they didn’t expect us to eat it first,” Natasha reasoned, even though the food was more a vessel for the information than anything. “Do you think that we will actually get to use this room before jumping into phase two?” The bed did look rather inviting, she had to admit.

He made a low sound in his throat, shaking his head, "Hope so. I could use a nap." Clint was one of those people who never actually slept, and when he had the chance to sleep for a 'regular' amount of time straight through, he rarely managed it. He survived on naps, a couple hours at a time and he was good to go.

Once he'd finished eating he went to retrieve his handheld, popping the chip with their message into it and setting it down on the table where they could both see. It was Coulson, because he was, for all intents and purposes, their handler. He explained that phase two was still as planned, though the timeline had been bumped up. At o-six hundred the hotel was going to have a fire drill and would be evacuated from the top down, which would give them approximately fifteen minutes to make their own getaway without being noticed. The timeline was the only thing that had changed, their rendezvous point, contact, and target were all still the same.

“You could always use a nap,” Natasha replied with a slight smile. She knew all about his sleeping habits and, really, in their line of business it wasn’t a bad way to go. During their downtime, though, she had to think that it must be frustrating not being able to sleep through the night, not that she got much in the sleep department either.

Turning her attention to the small screen, she continued to eat as their instructions were relayed back. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved that the plan hadn’t changed or disappointed that the action was over for the night. “I guess the weapons were just a precaution,” she stated, finishing off her dinner. Pushing her plate aside, she held her left hand out to Clint. “If we are going to be escaping with the crowd I suppose I better complete the cover.” She tapped the simple gold band on his finger.

"I don't know." He replied, sitting back in his chair, just eying the now-blank screen, "Just makes it seem like they're expecting something to go wrong." He shook his head, brow creasing slightly, "I don't like it." He'd always trusted his instincts, he often said it was the only reason he was still alive after most of the missions he'd been on.

He was already tugging the pouch with the other ring out of his jacket pocket though, even though his jacket was hung over the back of his chair, "Yeah. You want first watch or second?"

It was an old habit, sleeping in shifts, and one that they stuck with even at times like this when they didn't strictly have to.

“Forever the optimist,” Natasha replied. In all honestly she didn’t like it either. It felt like a puzzle with a missing piece, like they weren’t being given the whole story, and even if she hadn’t been wary before, Clint’s proclamation would be enough to set her on edge. His instincts were rarely wrong.

“I’ll take it,” she said, removing the wedding band from the pouch and placing it onto her finger. She hated jobs that required it; it only reminded her of a time she had worn one for real. “Get some sleep.”

Rising from her chair, she found a pair of satin pajama bottoms and a matching camisole in her luggage. Slipping underwear and the pants on until the robe, she dropped it to the floor and pulled the top on over her head. Pulling out her guns, she set about loading them, just in case.

"Hey, tough job, but somebody's got to do it." He replied, giving a rolling shrug before unfolding from his chair, stretching and collecting a pair of sweats and a tee out of his own luggage, trudging off to take a quick shower of his own.

He sprawled over onto the bed with a: "Three, three and a half, wake me up." Provided he wasn't already awake on his own, that was. He did drop off almost instantly, the same as he usually did, it was a skill that had taken a while to learn, to ingrain like any of his others.

Natasha had been impressed when she had found that whoever had packed her luggage had been thoughtful enough to pack a book for her as well. Then she had looked at the cover and decided she was no longer grateful and someone was having a nice chuckle somewhere. Trashy romance novels weren’t really her style, but for lack of anything better to do while Clint slept, she settled back in the chair and started to read, her gun hidden under a half folded newspaper on the table beside her.

It was the classic tale of a young woman set to marry a rich man who she didn’t love who got kidnapped on the eve of her wedding. Of course her and her handsome captor fought and argued, but the attraction was evident and coupled with the fact that her fiancé wasn’t too keen on paying her ransom, of course she eventually fell for the man who had taken her and treated her roughly for over two hundred pages. Not really caring to find out how it turned out, not that she couldn’t make an accurate guess at it, Natasha had set the book aside and settled on staring at the wall for a while as she let her mind wander, then at Clint. He was more laid back than many of their coworkers, but she still liked to see him completely relaxed. More than that, she enjoyed the knowledge that he trusted her enough to watch his back that he could sleep with her being his only protection. He was the only one she could do the same with herself.

After a little over three hours she got to her feet and padded silently across the floor to the side of the bed. Smirking a bit to herself, she bent over and blew softly into his ear.

She was probably the only person who got to see him totally relaxed, if it had been anyone else he would still have had a ready tension along his spine. He still would have slept, of course, just not as deeply nor as well.

He was alerted by her movement, though even subconsciously he seemed to know that it wasn't a defensive one, but he was at least partially aware before her gentle-ish alarm, and he smiled crookedly, shaking his head and stretching, "Cute." He rolled over onto his side before levering himself upright, "Any updates?"

He didn't figure anything had happened, or she would have woken him up sooner, but it didn't hurt to ask.

Natasha grinned back at him before stepping onto the bed on her knees and crawling across to the other side. “I took them all out an hour ago. You slept through the whole thing. Thank me now or later,” she deadpanned, stretching out on the bed. Slipping under the comforter, she tucked a hand under the pillow and looked at Clint. “Nothing. I think if anything is going to happen it’ll be during the fire alarm while there is already a commotion going on. It would be the best time to strike.”

The bed was warm and comfortable, but she wasn’t tired. With a possible threat still looming in only a few short hours Natasha doubted she would get any real sleep. She could sleep when this was all over with.

He scoffed, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair as he levered himself to his feet, "And you didn't save me any? You're just trying to make sure I'm as bored as possible for my watch. I know how you are." Aside from the tease there was an odd sort of affection in the tone. Because she was a friend, and she'd know the tease for what it was - a response to her own.

After making sure that the door was still locked, and there was nothing in easy line of sight through the peephole, he sprawled himself into the chair, "Get some rest." He knew better than to tell her to sleep, suspecting that the best she would get was a light doze, but it was better than nothing when they still had a few hours to kill.

Natasha’s eyes followed his every movement, a playful glint obvious in their green depths. “Or maybe I wanted to get them out of the way so I could have you all to myself for the next few hours,” she replied. She’d let him take that however he liked.

“I am resting,” she said as he finally settled into the chair. “But I believe you owe me a story.” She wondered if he would remember after all the events and actions that had made up their mission.  

There was another crooked smile at the first, "You know, you don't have to take out a cadre of ninjas just to get me to yourself, you could just ask, like a normal person."

He groaned, however, at the following statement, "Should have known you wouldn't forget about that." He sighed, shaking his head and settling back in the chair, "Okay, so, uh, once upon a time, back before I got snapped up by SHIELD, I was doing some special-ops training in Alaska, up in the mountains." He gave a rolling shrug, making himself more comfortable, "It was a long-haul kind of a mission, survivalist training."

He was getting to the part about the wolves, it was just going to take him a minute.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” Natasha replied, settling down into the bed. Not that she was what anyone would consider a ‘normal person’, not by a long shot. Taking out the enemy just to spend time with the person she trusted and enjoyed most in the world seemed normal enough to her, even if it had all started as a joke.

“You know I have a memory like a steel trap,” she said. Shifting her pillow slightly, she made sure she could watch him closely while still remaining comfortable. While he told his story she listened with rapt attention. She always liked the rare times when he told her stories of his past, like he was offering a bit of himself, proving that he trusted her as well.

Maybe taking out a cadre of ninjas was normal for them. Clint would agree that it was, or was close enough to normal for them.

He was apparently at ease, relaxed back in the chair, though he did have one arm resting on the table top to where he could get at her newspaper-concealed gun if he needed to, but even that position was a natural one for him, "Somewhere along the way, I caught the attention of a pack of wolves." He shrugged, cocking his head in a 'what can you do?' movement, "They followed me for... miles. Far enough and long enough that whenever I thought I'd lost them, there they were again."

Clint had the ability to look perfectly natural and relaxed in pretty much any situation. Even when she knew he was uncomfortable he rarely gave the outward impression of such, which was always a good attribute in a spy.

“Do wolves normally do that?” Natasha asked. Though if he was alone and perhaps injured, he would certainly appear to be an easy enough meal, despite his size.

He shook his head, "No, they don't, it's fucking weird behavior for wolves, especially a pack of them. A loner might, especially if they're rabid, they start doing all sorts of weird things when they're rabid, same as any animal, but a pack like that?" He shook his head again, "Definitely not normal, not about a human, anyway."

He shook his head, a narrow little flicker of a smile sliding into place and away again, "One of my contacts said maybe they thought I was something else. Never did get him to clarify that."

Although her expression remained mainly impassive, there was a light in her eyes that indicated that he had her full attention and that she was definitely interested in the story. The mystery was intriguing, animals acting so out of character for a single man.

“Were you injured? Perhaps they thought you were an easy kill,” she said, though the idea of them thinking he was ‘something’ else had her mind rolling over the possibilities.

Grabbing the pillow from the other side of the bed, she hugged it to her chest as she waited for him to continue. If he wasn’t going to use it she might as well get comfortable.

He shook his head again, "No, perfect health." A pause then, "Well, not injured. Survivalist training dispatches always make participants a little unstable." He shrugged, "I thought maybe they were rabid, but I watched them take down a deer, working together, they don't usually cooperate if they're rabid."

His brow furrowed, shifting his shoulders a little, trying to get comfortable, "Finally had to kill them. Hated to, but it was me or them."

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