bakerstreet | what's love got to do with it

Entry tags:

[meme] shipping

what's love got to do with it

Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable.

The Fake Relationship Meme

You're not together. But you need to make people think you are. Because of reasons.

Maybe you secretly can't stand each other. Maybe you like each other, just not like that. (Or do you?) Maybe this is the only way you'll ever get to be with your crush. Maybe you just need to give off that couple vibe in public, or maybe you're going to be forced to engage in some hot'n'heavy fakeout makeouts. For reasons, okay?

You know the drill. Post, tag, profit.

Home For The Holidays ⇢ You need to prove to your parents that you do so have a significant other. Just until they're gone.
No Singles Need Apply ⇢ The place is perfect, but the landlady will only rent it to a nice, respectable couple.
It's Not Safe For A Woman Alone ⇢ One of you is vulnerable in this big, bad world without a partner to protect you.
Public Relations ⇢ There's only one way to stop these pesky rumors: start your own.
Undercover Mission ⇢ They'll never suspect a couple of lovey-dovey honeymooners of... whatever it is you're actually up to.
Marriage Of Convenience ⇢ It's good for both your families. Or your finances. Or your hetero street cred. Whatever: might as well make the best of it.
Well That Escalated Quickly ⇢ It's common knowledge that you're together, except you're the last to know. Is it worth correcting people?
Free Space ⇢ Bring your own ~~bottle~~ scenario.

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He shook his head, "I won't know anything else until we actually get in there and I can see who's who. Then I'll be able to tell you who we should be staying away from and who we should be using as shields if we have to."

It really was an if as far as he was concerned, there was no reason for the night to fall apart into violence, but that didn't mean it wouldn't, and he wanted to be prepared for that eventuality.

For someone who was very clearly more at home in a cockpit than literally anywhere else, Poe cleaned up nice, and managed to at least look like he belonged there, something about the way he carried himself just shifting as they emerged onto the walkway leading to the building, checking them in easily and making for the promenade first of all, "We'll be able to get eyes on the crowd from here." He explained, just in case she needed it.

“Noted,” she replied as they made their way to the promenade. Carol was...passable. Espionnage and subtly were not her strengths. She usually left this part to the Skrulls and came in after as the cavalry. Punching? Flying? She was amazing. Wining, dining, and spying? Eh.

At the very least, if anyone notices that she seems a little uncomfortable, it only plays into their backstory about their marriage.

“There are more people here than I expected. Might take awhile to find the person in charge.”

He nodded, mostly managing not to look stiff, though it was a conscious effort to drop his shoulders, "Though our guy might not actually be the one hosting. It's, uh, well, not uncommon for people in his line of work to let someone else be the public face at a party like this." A twitch of a smile, "Really just depends on how many people are attending that they owes credits or goods to, sometimes both."

He was scanning the growing crowd below, giving a polite nod of greeting to a passing party-goer before continuing, "But if our guy is on the up and up, he'll be here, probably even introduce himself, especially if he thinks we've got credits to burn and something that needs defending."

"That makes sense." She tilts her head in the direction of a man in a nice suit who's the kind of handsome that's nearly sticking out. "So that guy is probably the face. Do we need to do more recon, or do we just start talking loudly about that shipping company."

Carol smiles at a passerby and noticing some others looking at her, she turns her attention back to Poe and gives him the smile of what she's hoping is woman in love. "Couple to the northwest," she murmurs through her teeth. "Problem or just jealous?"

"Definitely more recon needed." He replied to the first, though he patted at her hand on his arm, pinpointing who she was talking about in his peripheral vision, "Could be either, could be both, but I don't recognize them, so that's something." It meant they weren't any known factor or faction, but that could go either way for them.

"And it isn't just the shipping company, but the mining operation as well, we suspect targeted attacks from a business rival, because no one's luck could be bad enough to get random pirate attacks on two different business ventures."

A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. "No. We definitely must be being targeted." Their cover story was shaping up nicely - she had to give him that.

"Any chance we can recon over by the appetizers? I'm starving." Yes, she's serious about the mission, but they might as well enjoy the party that they crashed.

"Oh we absolutely can." He replied, "That's the only real reason to go to a party like this. Find out if they sprang for the good stuff or just ordered in bulk."

Party catering, it seemed, was the same regardless of universe, and he led her off the far side of the promenade that dropped them off right near the refreshments, and it was still early enough that they hadn't been thoroughly picked over.

"Better be good. There's so many credits in this room that I think they can afford it." They made their way over and Carol did her best to load a plate with an appropriate amount of food for a normal human woman, but also knew that wasn't going to hold her over too long. She'd have to space out her trips otherwise it'd be strange that a woman with her physique was shoveling it in.

"When this is all over," she said, voice very low, "I'd love to see that ship of yours." He had only mentioned his X-wing about twenty times and she had to admit that she was curious. Not many things interested Carol more than a good ship.

He flashed her a smile, "Assuming we survive, I think that can be arranged." He had, occasionally, claimed that the ship was nothing special, given as how it was just a standard X-Wing, albeit one that he'd rescued from a junk trader and tuned up, not to mention the custom paint job. One that made it almost instantly recognizable, which wasn't always great, but given as how he rarely did actual undercover missions like this it wasn't really a problem.

No more than BB-8 was, far more recognizable than a standard astromech, though the droid was still with the ship, like always.

Carol returned the smile before popping something that kind of looked like cheese into her mouth. And upon chewing it, it kind-of-almost-sort-of tasted like cheese. "We'll survive," she promised. "Not saying we won't blow our covers or get what we need, but I promise we're making it out of here alive." Because if she can barrel roll through a ship, she can get them out of this gala.

She reached for another cheese-thing when a handsome blue-skinned man held up his drink in her direction. "Poe," she whispered. "Do I toast him back? Is he the guy? What's the protocol here?"

"Do, but he's not." Poe replied, voice only just audible and only barely moving his mouth, giving the man a tight smile himself as he shifted a little closer to Carol, something almost defensive in his posture though it was entirely for show, he knew she didn't need his help in that regard.

He turned towards her with an equally tight smile, making sure that the other man wouldn't be able to even read his lips as he added, "Another buyer."

Carol let out a quiet groan that only Poe could hear before picking up a random glass of liquid and toasting the man. She gave him a pleased smile but then gave a wider one to Poe. All the act of a loving wife.

Once the man looks away, she places the glass back down. She tilts her head closer to Poe and whispers, "How many of these assholes do I have to smile at before we find the guy?"

"None, probably, cultural thing for his species," His brow creased a little, "Did you not know that he was checking if we'd be interested in doing anything after the auction?" He wouldn't be entirely surprised if that were the case, after all not many humans made a point of learning that kind of etiquette, but he'd had to thanks to the Republic Naval Academy.

He flashed her a quick grin, "Doesn't matter, we've already got plans."

"That's what that meant?" She wrinkled her nose and popped another cheese cube into her mouth. "Gross."

But then her features softened and she shook her head just a bit. "I'm not usually the one undercover. I'm better at punching and stealth missions that lead to punching." She didn't mention that she wasn't from this part of the galaxy. Not just yet.

Carol gave him a smile and grabbed another couple of cheese cubes. "We do. Where else would you like to get recon?"

"Place like this isn't their usual hunting ground, so to speak, but if they're a prospective buyer, it makes sense." A twitch of a smile followed, "Because I'm with you on the 'how about we punch something instead?' front. This is... not what I'm good at."

He gave a shrug, offering her an arm again and picking up another glass, something to make himself look busy or occupied or something, "Problem is, with a situation like this it's finicky and we have to make sure we're punching the right guy."

He beamed at her then, briefly, "But I think I know just the place to complain about some piracy troubles, since it's definitely something we haven't talked about to each other before." He said, leading her off to what wasn't exactly a lounge and wasn't wholly out of the way, but was definitely there for party-goers to get off their feet, and would make them easily overheard if they were discussing any kind of business.

"You're doing better than me," she said, taking his arm again. "And I get that we need to punch the right guy, but I'm also not opposed to just punching all the guys."

They passed a waiter and Carol grabbed a fresh glass of something that seemed to resemble champagne. "Oh good. I've definitely been meaning to talk to you about pirates again."

With just a look between them, they settled on a place that was pretty visible and easy to be overheard. Carol took a seat and waited for Poe to settle next to her. There were a few other people milling about the area, so she started right into it. "I'm so worried. This is the second attack in as many weeks."

Poe nodded and leaned against the arm of the couch instead of sitting on the couch beside her. It was a move that left him taller than her for once, slightly, allowed him a good range of visibility of the area, and also made it seem that he wasn't entirely comfortable with her, which was at least part of what they were going for.

"I agree, wife." He used the word the way someone else might use 'dear' or even 'darling', not an epithet but an endearment, if an awkward one, "We're clearly being targeted, but until we get some kind of demands, there's no way of knowing by whom. And do you really want to go making ourselves more of a target by using the few resources we have left to strike out blindly at all of our rivals?"

Carol rested her free hand on his leg, which was a sweet gesture, but their positioning added to the not entirely comfortable narrative.

"But husband," the word sounded so weird in her mouth but she plowed through it, "we cannot look like we can be pushed around. Whoever is doing this needs to know that we will stand up for everything we have." She had to look at her drink as she took a sip because she was afraid that looking at Poe for too long while they were speaking like this would make her crack up. Poor guy. He deserved a partner with more training.

He knew that one of them was going to crack before too long, and he only hoped they could collectively keep it together long enough to actually garner some attention and even better some information.

"I don't disagree, but we can't afford to make actual enemies out of mere rivals, especially when some of them may be suffering as well. The enemy of an enemy is a friend, yes?"

Carol nodded in her mock agreement and took another sip to give herself some time. "Yes, but what if that's what they're doing to us? It could be all of our rivals teaming up against us."

Out of the corner of her eye, Carol saw someone slowly approaching them. However, it seemed too soon to say whether they were interested in speaking or not. "I just don't think we should sit back and wait."

"I'm not suggesting that we wait forever." He replied, "Merely that we make some inquiries first. Because even if it is our business rivals banding together, the way they answer should be enough regardless of what their answer is."

He flicked a hand dismissively, having to shake his head again so as not to smile, "Obviously we can't just ask outright if they're allying against us, that wouldn't get a good answer either way." He also had noticed the new arrival, but couldn't be sure if it was someone planning on helping, or just someone planning on watching a fight break out.

Carol let out an exasperated sigh in her drink - one that would be impossible for the man nearby to miss - before she replied to Poe. "Of course we can't just ask them if they're allying against us, but what could we possibly ask?"

Hell, if the man was close enough anyway, she'd lean in to her persona and bring him into the conversation. "You, sir, what would you ask your business rivals to determine if they were attacking you?"

The man blinked, as if surprised to be asked, but Poe wasn't buying it, not given how smoothly he answered: "Questions are for if you merely believe others to be plotting against you, if they've already moved against you the time for questions is over and the time for action is at hand." He took a sip of his own drink, "And I couldn't help but overhear that it seems they've already made a move."

Poe snorted softly, barely disguising the laugh as derision, "Once again a stranger sides with my wife." He shook his head, "And if we don't have proof of what rival it was? Or that it even is a rival at all and not just indescribably bad luck?"

The man shrugged, "Then pick a rival of about equal strength and resources to your own and obliterate them. If they're actually the responsible party you'll have solved the problem, and if not you'll likely have struck enough fear into those responsible to keep them from trying again."

Carol grinned like she had won the lottery and gestures to the man while looking at Poe. "See? He knows the correct course of action. We cannot sit idle and just question. We must take action."

She turned her attention back to the man, hoping that he was too excited by the potential money to read whatever anxiety could be leaking into her persona. "Thank you for your opinion. Now I can only hope we can win over my husband to the idea."

At this point, she wasn't sure if she should introduce herself, or offer the man a hand, or what. So she was hoping that Poe knew what was the right move now that they were in a conversation. Her eyes shifted back to him wordlessly asking for him to take the lead in social etiquette.

Their new friend solved that dilemma by offering her a hand himself, "Elias Dannen, and unless I'm very much mistaken, you're Carolyn Versal, current head of the Versal family shipping and transport business empire."

Poe's brows both lifted a little, because he'd actually pulled their names from the guest list, and he was once again thankful that the Resistance had a few good slicers who could patch together what amounted to a paper trail, making their aliases legitimate enough for a first pass even if they wouldn't hold up under further scrutiny. He would be surprised, however, if this was actually their arms dealer, but it was possible that he was a consigliere, gathering interested parties for the actual sales or auction after the party itself.

"And I'm her husband." Elias nodded before Poe could say anything further, "Yes, of course, Kes Arash, one of the best character actors of our generation, but let's not fool ourselves as to which of you has the head for business, hm?"

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