The First Day of the Rest of Your Super (26)

[spiderbear]

((I pretty much do, but with all this Uni stuff its hard to remember you haven't replied yet, haha. Thankfully, that is now done. Its a good system...Assuming its working...unlike today. *headdesk*))

Bombalurina eyed his paw holding the door, passing him a wary look; she was rarely offered such courtesy, by anycat let alone a tom, and if she were being entirely honest, she wasn't quite sure how she was to react to such a movement. The scarlet queen took the offered door with a slight nod of thanks, though a nervous twitch passed to her ears as she waited for him inside.

[victoriousscarf]

It didn't take him more than a moment to step through the door and let it swing shut behind him, though he gave her a sidelong look considering how she reacted to the common courtesy. He shrugged slightly to himself and stepped forward through the hallway and into the throng of cats already there.

[spiderbear]

Bombalurina followed, her psyche somewhat shaken by the simple act of common decency - she'd had very little in her life, afterall. The scarlet queen followed him quietly, unsure of to what was expected of her in the aftermath.

[victoriousscarf]

At that point, Philip wasn't expecting much of her, nodding toward the catwalk and then slipping into the crowd, spotting a particular cat he wanted to talk to.

((... I am almost half tempted to throw Jones in here.))

[spiderbear]

((Bustopher? I'm assuming that's an 'Oh Noes!' moment?))

Bombi followed her employer towards the designated runway area, watching him swim through the sea of socialites with ease. The curvaceous queen was tense, tailing him closely so as not to lose sight of Philip. Like hell she was being left alone among these sort of cats.

[victoriousscarf]

((Ah, yes. I never think of him as Bustopher, he's always Jones, said in a tone of sheer disgust. But yeah, it would perhaps be a somewhat "Oh Noes!" moment. Sheer insipid bastardery tends to produce that. Yes/No/You're out of your mind?))

Philip paused for a moment, greeting one of the cats he knew, a queen who usually had just the right amount of information for him, if a habit of blowing smoke right into his face. He glanced back at Piper once through the conversation, taking stock of where she was and nodding up to the stage, miming taking photos.

[spiderbear]

((Ah, I figured so...mine and Meadowlark's one was certainly the worst of society, rolled into one fat, lardy, leering lump.))

Bombi rolled her eyes - the poor tom obviously knew nothing about the run time between shots, but she humoured him by mimicing his movements whilst holding the camera, the cheesiest grin possible plastered on her face. Honestly; she didn't tell him how to snoop and sharpen pencils...

Although, she took her work seriously enough that once the camera was prepped, she was off. With the camera securely in her paws, she settled on a glide around the runway, taking photos of things she personally found particularly interesting, spicing up the angles of some of the 'duller' shots.

[victoriousscarf]

((Just keep in mind that this isn't quite that Jones though I'm sure he shares some characteristics, and also, how do you feel about tossing him in here?))

Philip arched a brow at that display, forgetting to pay attention to the queen currently talking and getting an unexpected lungful of smoke for his lapse. Coughing, he turned his attention back to her, jotting down a couple answers to his questions before smiling, nodding, and moving along to another of his usual sources.

[spiderbear]

((Yeah, go for it. I'm excited to meet this Jones; was just trying to get an idea of what he was like is all lol.))

Bombalurina rounded the runway, managing to find a fair few models happy and willing to get their faces (and, by default) their bodies in the paper. She managed to grab some good shots of the collection on display, the heavy beading and velveteen opulent enough to remind Bombi of her current financial state. Perhaps, once upon a time, she would have revelled in it; back during her singing days at least, but she was prickled by far too many broken dreams to ever take such luxuries in stride again.

[victoriousscarf]

Bustopher Jones lounged at one of the tables pushed around to the side of the area, looking around, and nodding to several of the cats that he knew and recognized. After skipping out on the New Years Gala hosted by that upstart Hollister, he figured it would be a good idea to be seen in society, continuing his usual routine. That tom had insulted him too much for him to forgive though, and considering what his sources turned up, he was curious what sort of revenge he could cook up.

Taking another sip of the non-alcoholic drink in his paw, he looked around the room again.

[spiderbear]

Bombalurina moved between a few waif-like girls, earning a couple of sidelong glances toward her hourglass frame.

Cat, she hated socialites. Snapping a few seemingly unflattering shots of the young "Miss" club, she managed to re-focus on the task ahead, glancing around and managing a few more shots inward of the Gala. Hazarding a few steps closer to the unofficial, though widely accepted V.I.P area, hoping to catch a vaguely familiar face that Phil would appreciate having shots of. Bombi reloaded her film for good measure, distracted by the task, though aware of the movement around her. Though she didn't necessarily look out of place due to her dress sense (smart skirt-suit, naturally) her well shaped figure sure made her feel it.

[victoriousscarf]

Jones noticed the queen who appeared to be more focused on her camera than on the actual fashion before he registered that it meant reporters were around, which probably meant...

Philip slide into the chair opposite him. "Good old Bustopher Jones," he said with a grin, getting a wince in reply. "So lovely to see you here. And how are you enjoying the show?"

Jones narrowed his eyes at the reporter. "Don't you have some other socialite to bother?" he growled.

Philip pouted at him. "Oh come now, I just want to ask you a couple questions... I thought you liked seeing your name in the paper after all. It's there often enough."

[spiderbear]

Bombalurina heard a peppy greeting, Phil's voice ringing from behind. She turned, long eyelashes blinking in surprise merely at the....enormity of the belly Phil seemed to be attempting to engage in conversation with. Shapely legs clicking her heels on the floor, she swam a little closer through the crowd, camera lowered as she approached the Turkish Van and the...tub, before him.

[victoriousscarf]

Jones' eyes only narrowed farther at that. "Are you implying something, Hunt?"

"Me?" Philip asked, putting on an offended look, though it was ruined when he smiled. "I would never dream of implying anything. So," he breezed on, taking out his notepad and laying it on the table, fishing the pencil from his hat band. "If you don't mind--" and he rolled right on past the protests that the other did mind "--I heard you weren't at Hollister's New Year Ball. Any particular reason?"

Jones scowled at him, before turning toward the queen with the camera who seemed to be getting closer to them. "That is hardly fit for your business," he sniffed.

[spiderbear]

Bombi approached, hearing Phil being confronted by the rather...rotund feline before him. He was certainly imposing, his bi-colouring and general dress screaming Pedigree-socialite to her. Turning on some long forgotten charm, pulling herself together a shell of confidence, she approached her boss and the scowling interviewee with as much of a sultry glide as she could.
"Phil, you haven't yet introduced me." The grinned, inside mentally cringing at the lard-roll before her, looping an arm through Phil's personably to better feign 'Friend' status then 'Photographer wanting a shot of your mug.'