Sveta was beginning to have a Pavlovian reflex to the word "fundraiser". It wasn't a good reflex. The word did not come with a bell and treats, it came with high heels and uncomfortable social situations and lots of forced smiles. While there were people who actually cared about helping, and were passionate about what Haven stood for, much more of them were just entitled assholes who wanted to get a tax write-off and a convenient PR facelift without getting too close to actual mutants. And, like many ex-boyfriends, they expected way too much reciprocation.

Political fundraisers were the worst.

This time, she was here to pay the piper. Or, rather, the donor. She was a Haven representative at some moderate politician's fundraising party. It was open secret that he was going to try to run for a higher office this year, and he was laying down groundwork hard, which meant lots of drinks, elbow-squeezing, and window-dressing.

Sveta was the window-dressing.

For some godforsaken reason, the man decided it was a good idea to make this party "fun", and landed on a speakeasy theme. Pippa would have had smoke coming out of her ears about the gangster implications, but all these people really saw a chance to dress as flappers and wear fedoras and vests. The rest was networking, mingling, and social lubrication for an easier entry into the political big leagues.

Ew.

Sveta stood to the side, holding her drink. She had to be here for money and connections, but she did not have to look too much like a prostitute. Instead of the obvious flapper choice, she looked more like some kind of an old time movie star, with her hair curled into a bob and her form-fitting green dress highlighted with a fur wrap and above-the-elbow matching gloves. And pearls. Girl deserved something nice every once in a while.

She just needed to do the mandatory song-and-dance and get the hell out of here.

Politics were, in Zselyke's opinion, a performance art. The stage shifted from a senate floor to a televised podium to galas, and the last always called for the most pageantry. It was actually interesting watching as politicians sought to support causes and say the right things without alienating their corporate donors. They had to shake hands with all the right people, and you could measure someone's importance by the attention they garnered.

If this was all a performance, Zselyke was comfortably practiced in her role, knowing the right things to say to the right people. She was not some corporate superpower, so her donation was more symbolic than difference-making. At the end of the day, this jackass had a good chance of making his way into higher offices in the Democratic party, and if she wanted continued support to keep the D next to her name, she had to back him publicly as his Junior Senator. She found him sleazy, because he was a politician, and she was a self-hating politician, but she knew when to play the game.

Of course, her "role" was as a rebellious outsider. She was always going to be an outsider, thanks to her immigrant status, but she fought to keep the focus on her rebellious politics and social stances. Sometimes it was in public ways; lobbying for social programs that would make neolibs blush and conservatives choke.

Today, it was with an outfit that would grab controversial headlines. Everyone knew what the twenties aesthetic her senior intended, and she could have arrived in a flapper dress and made a splash regardless. She would have also been grouped with every woman who played along with the flapper aesthetic. Instead, why not play up a newsie aesthetic?

Pairing quality slacks along with a sleeveless top, a newsies cap, and suspenders she was absolutely rocking, Zselyke was definitely getting looks. As femme as she could be, she could draw upon the kind of butch energy necessary for suspenders, vests, and suits. It was important to know your strengths.

After walking the party, talking up donors and lobbyists she was keen on maintaining good relationships with, she noticed a familiar face and grinned, approaching one of the leader's of Haven. Of the donors she worked with, Haven was the one she kept close contact with, particularly in light of their big push in pro-mutant policy lobbying. Zselyke also knew if anyone was as tired of the fake, dull gala atmosphere as she was, it was Svetlana. "Well well, fancy seeing you in this little time warp, Ms. Sergeyeva. Don't you just look ready for the golden age of Hollywood?"

Sveta's social interactions evened out as the event progressed. For every person who was attracted to her by looks there was another who walked around her with a tight smile, as if they could catch being a mutant somehow, and they were not quite comfortable with that. Sveta was not sure how many of either felt her coffee buzz aura, but she was also not disappointed that she only had to chat with one half of them.

Senator Lányi made an appearance, and Sveta smiled. Leave it up to the pro-mutant daredevil politician lady to dress like that, instead of flappering it up like everybody else.

>>"Well well, fancy seeing you in this little time warp, Ms. Sergeyeva. Don't you just look ready for the golden age of Hollywood?"

"Well, when as many people prefer you as a silent movie as they do me, you gotta look the part" she grinned, raising her glass to Zselyke. "I wish I'd thought of your look, though. Looks a lot more comfortable."

Zselyke liked Sveta as a face for Haven because she was not your typical political player. She was learning her way around the landscape, but she was an outsider, and Zsely got along with outsiders. Despite not being out as a mutant, the Junior Senator was vocal as a pro-mutant voice in Washington, earning her some respect and plenty of ire. The two of them looked so distinctive among the rest of the crowd playing the roles they were assigned. There might even be a photo in a paper somewhere. Good. She was fine with it being known that she was a friend of Haven. A casual friend, of course. The kind of friend you said hi to at parties.

"But you pull off the golden-haired starlet so well," Zselyke teased, sure Svetlana was wearing the dress under duress. "Besides, if we matched outfits, one of us would have had to take it off, and then we'd be causing a real fuss."

Looking around at the politicians making small talk, there were a few sideways glances noticing them, as was to be expected. Getting chummy with the mutant influencer with a suspicious aversion to touching? "You know, it's interesting talking to you. Like if a silent movie suddenly started making noise and the whole stuffy crowd gets startled." She grinned, sipping her brandy. It's fun. Like getting a peek into your life as a Havenite. Must be more exciting causing a stir than having to toe the line in Senate hearings all day."

Senator Lányi was easy to talk to. She was one of the very, very select few Sveta actually like to casually chat with whenever their paths crossed at functions like this. Having one foot in each world, the political outsider was casually friendly with Haven the same way. Sveta had been keeping an eye at her career. She was smart enough not to mistake the suspenders for lacking political smarts.

>>"But you pull off the golden-haired starlet so well. Besides, if we matched outfits, one of us would have had to take it off, and then we'd be causing a real fuss."

"Hit me up with that stunt again when you are running for president. I might consider it." Sveta grinned over her drink. It was a safe thing to say. Zselyke might have been a Washington hopeful, but she was an immigrant. America was not that forgiving. Sveta new that from experience.

>>"You know, it's interesting talking to you. Like if a silent movie suddenly started making noise and the whole stuffy crowd gets startled. It's fun. Like getting a peek into your life as a Havenite. Must be more exciting causing a stir than having to toe the line in Senate hearings all day."

"Aren't you a little too young to be getting bored of politics already?" Sveta tilted her head. If her annoyance at fundraising events was bad, someone whose full-time job it was must have been feeling it a lot worse. Or not. Maybe she would not have picked the job if she did. "Must be exciting actually getting to be anywhere near the Senate instead of trying to send messages through checks." she noted, mirroring Zselyke's light-hearted grin.

A presidential run would be a fun one. Did she think America was ready for a female president? Totally. How about a bisexual? That was a harder sell. Immigrant? Good luck selling that to the red states who already saw her as a potential Russian plant. If she somehow overcame all those hurdles, literally rewriting the constitution, she still expected her pro-mutant stances would tank her campaign. Sometimes voting with your heart was a great way to limit your political career. "Okay, but if I don't have a nude Russian blonde attending my inauguration, I'll be sorely disappointed," she joked, winking because it was always fun teasing straight women.

Sveta asked about boredom, which was further from the truth than she might have expected. "Oh, I've never found politics dull. The games themselves are fun, it's just the rules I find tedious." She sipped her wine, considering her words carefully; she might have been a joy to talk to, but Sveta was technically part of the political lobbyist crowd. "Being a loud voice in a Senate room and a quiet voice in the backrooms means something, but it's not where the power is. Your checks have power. Putting pressure on politicians is power."

Laughing at the sad truth of it, she gestured to pairs talking, almost always a politician and a donor. "The money moves and the right promises and threats are made, and policies move and die. You wield more power here than I do, Miss Sergeyeva. Truthfully, sometimes I envy that." She loved being on the stage, and maybe she even thrived on the fame and infamy she earned. Haven was still going to do more as a movement pulling strings in the background than she could do as a single person trying to be more than just a corporate puppet.

>>"Okay, but if I don't have a nude Russian blonde attending my inauguration, I'll be sorely disappointed,"

"How very Republican of you. Way to reach across the aisle." Sveta grinned, purring emphasis on her Russian accent.

>>"Oh, I've never found politics dull. The games themselves are fun, it's just the rules I find tedious. Being a loud voice in a Senate room and a quiet voice in the backrooms means something, but it's not where the power is. Your checks have power. Putting pressure on politicians is power."

Sveta personally wished it would be different. She was a cynic at heart, but she wished she could be one of the people who imagined democracy as something were people took each other's wellbeing at heart, and voted and made laws based on making the world a better place, rather than based on who was putting down the largest check for the campaign.

But, as things stood now, she was one of those people with the checks. Just not the largest ones.

>>"The money moves and the right promises and threats are made, and policies move and die. You wield more power here than I do, Miss Sergeyeva. Truthfully, sometimes I envy that."

"If it makes you feel better, none of it is my money." Sveta smirked. Neither was the drink or the clothes, or the apartment, really. She was acting leader of Haven, but in the end, the resources still came from Hadden. "And I could toss it into the ocean if there was no one on your side who actually gave a damn about trying to help us make things better."

Sveta glanced up, noting one of the elderly politicians making a beeline for the two of them with a suggestive grin on his face he no doubt thought was flirty. "Um... do you want to get out of here?"

Zselyke stifled her laugh, because she had to be careful about opening antagonizing the other party. This was a predominantly Democratic event, but there were a few red names on the list and even if they were not there, everyone talked. The things you say echoed across Washington for weeks.

Money in politics was a contentious issue for Zselyke. She wanted it gone, but that was not the world she lived in. She could fight for the ideal, but she had to live in the real world. ”Borrowed money or not, if I’m gonna put anyone’s money to use, it’s yours. At least I don’t feel like I’ve done something dirty when Haven leaves the money on the nightstand,” she joked. ”You don’t have the most money and I don’t have the most influence, but at least we’re trying together, right?”

The party had time left to it, but Zselyke had crossed all the names off her list she had to touch base with. She did not want the reputation of early exiting party events, but when Sveta made the suggestion, that sounded like she could justify it as attending to a donor. The Senator also noticed a less-than-welcome presence on the approach, making sense of Sveta’s desire to bail.

Gesturing with her hand toward the door, Zselyke smiled. ”Why yes, Miss Sergeyeva, I would love to talk about my upcoming policies. Lead the way!” And in a lower voice, she added, ”Also, you’re buying the first round, at least.”

Zselyke was easy to talk to. Sveta was not sure whether that came to her naturally, or if it was something she'd cultivated for her political career, but either way, it beat any other mingling conversation she had at most of these events. And Zselyke was definitely Haven- and mutant-friendly, and had no qualms about admitting it. It was going to make her career hell, but at least she was one of the good ones.

>>”Borrowed money or not, if I’m gonna put anyone’s money to use, it’s yours. At least I don’t feel like I’ve done something dirty when Haven leaves the money on the nightstand. You don’t have the most money and I don’t have the most influence, but at least we’re trying together, right?”

"We'll do our best to continue letting you enjoy nice clean fun" Sveta grinned. They really had. Sveta handled the dirty work in other ways. There was such a thing as background research, and heavy bias, so politicians that backed Haven had to stay extremely clean for everyone's sake.

Talking about clean, the guy headed in their direction was definitely not. Metaphorically speaking.

>>”Why yes, Miss Sergeyeva, I would love to talk about my upcoming policies. Lead the way!”

Sveta grinned at Zselyke and headed for a less conspicuous exit, making a beeline between waiters and mingling guests.

"Good, I think we should discuss some of those points in more detail." she responded, loud enough for word to get around that Haven and Zselyke were talking business. No one would be much surprised there.

>>”Also, you’re buying the first round, at least.”

"No. Hadden is." Sveta winked, only stopping to get her coat form the cloak room before they headed out of the building. She glanced around, trying to decide where they should go for a drink. The neighborhood was high end, full of fancy cafés and restaurants. She wanted something cheaper. It took a bit of walking before something even started to resemble a regular bar. "The High Note." Sveta read the sign, and shook her head. "Too easy. Shall we?"

It was nice that Sveta assumed Zselyke played clean. She was successful, and that meant she was willing to get her hands dirty. It was a careful game, because DC was a mix of rules that were meant to be broken and rules that would ruin your whole career.

Tonight, she could put the game on pause and enjoy a drink with actual decent company. There might be some shop talk, but at least they were doing it away from the stuffy crowd and with stronger booze. The High Note was discreet without being a trashy dive, which made it perfect for their purposes. "How can I say no to clever wordplay? Lead the way."

The bar was quiet, with a patron or two sitting at the tables along the edge of the room, and a pair playing billiards. Surprisingly, all the seats at the bar were empty. Always one to sit as close to the source of her drinks as possible, she snagged a seat and waved down the female bartender with the welcoming smile. Awaiting her first drink, Zselyke stretched her arms over her head, finaly relaxing. "We should do this more often. This can be our go-to escape plan. Especially when I expect I'll see more of you, considering how much more public Haven has been lately."

>>"How can I say no to clever wordplay? Lead the way."

They entered the bar, which was just the nice middle ground between elegant and normal to go to while still dressed in speakeasy costumes. Not many patrons, and none that seemed very interested in the two women. Also refreshing. Sveta hung up her coat by the door, and took a seat at the bar next to Zselyke, sliding the fur wrap off her shoulders and placing it on an empty bar stool. It was warm enough inside not to stay wrapped up. The gloves, however, stayed on as usual.

>>"We should do this more often. This can be our go-to escape plan. Especially when I expect I'll see more of you, considering how much more public Haven has been lately."

"It's like a code word, right?" Sveta smirked "Let's end the evening on a high note..." she chuckled "You are right, Haven is making some changes. I'm going to announce them soon, once we got the right kind of press together."

The bartender walked over with a warm smile. Sveta held up two fingers to her. "Shots, please. We had a long day."

It was too early to judge a bar by its first impressions, but Zselyke was glad none of the patrons made an immediate approach on two notably attractive women. The Senator was always in the market for a go-to destination, but if a place attracted patrons who had intentions of spending their nights hitting on women, she could pass.

Zsely relaxed, removing her own coat and draping it over her barstool. She noticed Sveta keeping her trademark gloves on. There was definitely more to that, but she was not pushing the question yet.

”’Let’s end the evening on a High Note’ indeed,” she agreed, liking the little code they could share to get out of bad situations and boring parties. ”Though be careful; the rumors will start to swirl that you’re either my Russian handler or my next torrid affair.” Being out had pros and cons, but she did feel a little guilty when almost every woman she was caught alone with ended up in the rumor mill.

Sveta ordered up some shots and a bemused Zselyke arched an eyebrow. ”Getting right to it, then? I must say, I like your style, Svetlana.” The bartender, a young woman with treble clef barrettes in her hair, acknowledged them and looked around for a bottle of amber liquor to prepare their shots.

”You and Haven, honestly. Making big public moves with your smiles and private… influential moves when no one’s looking at your hands.” Zselyke smiled, feeling particularly vibrant. Sveta had that effect on her energy, but even her colors seemed deeper around Sveta. ”Politicians do talk, and I hear some very interesting whispers. I thought I played games well, but sometimes I think I’m playing checkers and you and your associates are playing chess.” Of course, she was just one person, and Sveta was part of an organization; there was so much more they had the resources for and so much they could get away with.

The shots arrived with two clinks against the smooth wood of the bar, and as the Senator reached for her drink, her hand brushed the back of Sveta’s wrist. It was a brief moment, but it came with an unexpected jolt. Zsely did not notice right away, but the barstool, Sveta’s glove, and even the liquor in their glasses all muted noticeably in color. Zsely, meanwhile, shifted closer to over-saturation.

The surprise of the touch led to Zselyke spilling some of her shot, which the bartender was quick to start wiping up. ”Oh, um, sorry. Guess I’m feeling clumsy tonight?” She returned her curious gaze to Sveta, now with all the color components of her hazel eyes noticeable and bright.

So far, the High Note seemed like a good place to escape to from boring political functions. The bartender was friendly, the patrons were quiet, and the place was not crowded at all, even at this time of the night. Sveta filed that information away.

>>’Let’s end the evening on a High Note’ indeed. Though be careful; the rumors will start to swirl that you’re either my Russian handler or my next torrid affair.”

Sveta grinned. Both were equally likely. If only those people knew how much she was no one back in Russia at all - she doubted she even existed in her native country's records anymore - and that she was not really interested in women. As much as she liked Zselyke.

"They already think I'm Hadden's side piece" she shrugged "What is it with men not believing that good-looking women can actually get things done?"

It was a theoretical question, obviously. Sveta ordered shots.

>>”Getting right to it, then? I must say, I like your style, Svetlana.”

Sveta grinned again. She liked Zselyke, she was a smart woman who had guts to take on Washington from a position of political disadvantage, and the nerve to look good doing it.

>>”You and Haven, honestly. Making big public moves with your smiles and private… influential moves when no one’s looking at your hands. Politicians do talk, and I hear some very interesting whispers. I thought I played games well, but sometimes I think I’m playing checkers and you and your associates are playing chess.”

Sveta chuckled at the description. It was definitely chess, and she was just beginning to learn it, but, just to mix metaphors, she had a good pokerface to make the outside believe she was managing Haven. Luckily, she had help, even if not as much as she would have needed. "Fake it till you make it" she noted, as she shots arrived.

They reached for the glasses at the same time, and Zselyke's hand brushed against hers. There was a jolt, out of surprise, and Sveta drew her hand back on instinct. Something changed... colors around them dimmed, her gloves, the drinks, the bar... but not Zselyke, who suddenly looked a lot more... colorful. Sveta arched an eyebrow at her.

Interesting.

Zselyke was a mutant. Well, that explained a whole lot.
Sveta mentally shifted her into another column on Haven's priority list.

Drink spilled, and the bartender came over to clean up.

>>”Oh, um, sorry. Guess I’m feeling clumsy tonight?”

"It happens" Sveta smirked, looking her over in a whole new light. Her own drink was still resting on the bar as the bartender refilled Zselyke's. Sveta picked the shot up. "Cheers." She drank, knocking it back with an expert move, and putting the glass down. The bartender reached for it immediately to finish the cleanup... and her slender fingers brushed Sveta's gloved hand.

Second time in a row.
What a strange night.

Suddenly, there was music in the air. Even the lighting seemed to change around them as the tune, coming from nowhere and everywhere, fell into rhythm with what Sveta was about to say. Her thought changed shape, changed words, and began to flow in a way she'd never experienced before. It felt right. It felt... inspired.
It was a moment, an important moment of change, and she was not about to give it up, even as the back of her mind quietly wondered what fresh hell was going on.

Sveta began to sing.

Right here, right now
I put the offer out
I don't want to chase you down
I know you see it
You run with me
And I can cut you free
Out of the drudgery and walls you keep in

The bartender was not seeing this happen for the first time. She routinely refilled the shots, and slid the bottle across the bar to Sveta, who was just getting into the swing of telling Zselyke what she wanted to tell. The words were coming out right, and the music was picking up. No one seemed surprised at all.

Smirking, Sveta reached up to flick Zselyke on the forehead. Colors dimmed again and she flared up. It went well with the music.

So trade that typical for something colorful
And if it's crazy, live a little crazy
You can play it sensible, a queen of conventional
Or you can risk it all and see

High note indeed.

Systematic sexism was a real bummer, but it was one Zselyke was finding ways to deal with as she ascended the political ladder. No one cared who her male colleagues might involve themselves with until the infidelity headlines came out, but she was going to deal with constant questions of who she was or was not sleeping with and what she was getting from that. Let them whisper; maybe she could get something of value done while they were busy.

Right now, she just wanted to get done with the shot in her hand, quickly following Sveta with her own downed drink. She was not about to be outdone by her drinking buddy here. They had all the time in the world, their night was enjoyable, and…

And there was music. In fact, the atmosphere around them seemed to change. The lighting, the space around them, and despite the changes, Zselyke saw no reason to comment on the change.

Far be it for her to cut into Sveta as she took the lead in this number.

It was fascinating. Sveta sang and Zselyke sat across from her as the music and lyrics carried an understood message. Svetlana had picked up on Zselyke’s secret; she was a mutant. Woven into the lyrics, Zselyke could hear the invitation to join into the deeper, inner workings of Haven. The risky, shadowy, thrilling machinations at the heart of the mutant-minded beast.

Zsely scrunched her nose at the flick, arching a questioning eyebrow at her drinking buddy, but she accepted the offered shot nonetheless. The flick brightened her colors, and Zsely realized somewhere in her head that she could do something useful with that. With a snap, (wholly unnecessary and simply for theatrical effect,) the illusion of a top hat appeared in Sveta’s hand, allowing her to interact with it as she wished.

But it was not yet Zsely’s turn, so she listened to her musical proposal with cautious curiosity.

Somehow, beyond the lyrics and the music, they understood each other. Zselyke was a mutant, something to do with colors. No wonder she had been so vocal about social issues. No wonder she was not out as a mutant, either. People lost their s**t about every politician who came out as anything. Still, Zselyke was an asset. An important one, sure, but also a smart and honest one, not afraid to get her hands dirty. Metaphorically.

And now that they were, inexplicably, in a musical number, metaphor was all the rage.

It made sense, all of it. The music out of nowhere, the singing, the lyrics. They were in it together. Zselyke conjured out a top hat out of nowhere, and Sveta was not sure whether it came with her powers or with the music, and she also didn't much care. She put it on her head and slipped off the bar stool as the music got going for real.

Don't you wanna get away from the same old part you gotta play
'Cause I got what you need, so come with me and take the ride
It'll take you to the other side

The bartender girl, moving with the music, left her place behind the bar with a grin, and kicked one of the chairs over for Sveta to step on. Well, this was not the kind of dancing-on-tables she'd done back when she was younger, but it still felt right in the moment, so up on the table went Sveta, heels, dress and all.

'Cause you can do like you do
Or you can do like me
Stay in the cage, or you'll finally take the key
Oh, damn! Suddenly you're free to fly
It'll take you to the other side

By the time she made her way down from the table and back to the bar, flipping the hat over, the bartender had refilled the shot glasses. She was clearly not doing this for the first time.