Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Chapter 27 – Spoke Too Soon
"If I could sleep with myself, I would," Ophelia murmured to herself as she admired herself in the mirror.
A simple black corset coupled with sleek black slacks and high heels adorned the French brawler. Her blonde hair, normally tied in a braid, cascaded down her back with a smooth pin straight finish. With a thin gold band wrapped around her neck, and her lips painted a striking ruby red, Ophelia Delacour looked ready to rule the world.
Despite being dressed for a party, the brawler still wore her gauntlets on her wrists. Styled to look more like fashion accessories than the weapons they were.
One final approving look at herself, and the Titan breezed out of her room and into her living room, the click of her heels following her.
"Ophelia!" She heard a familiar voice roar as he stormed into sight out of the elevator. Steve narrowed his eyes at the nonchalant teenager as she smirked at him.
"Ophelia, stop ordering shirts that are two sizes smaller than me. I know what you're doing!" He huffed, fidgeting with the collar of a cerulean blue button-up that she remembered picking out for him.
"I don't know what you're talking about, gramps." She lightly replied, hiding a wicked grin at his discomfort as she walked away. "Your old age is catching up to you."
"You might wanna tuck in your shirt though." Ophelia ducked her head around the corner, fully aware of how annoyed she was making the super-soldier. "Have fun!"
Before he could make a retort, Ophelia had already slipped into the elevator. Cheerfully waving at her captain as the doors closed and took her to the common room.
✺
She felt the vibrations of the music before hearing it as she entered the common room. On a normal day, you could find Tony sneaking a few shots of whiskey behind Steve's back or Ophelia crying over a maths assignment at the bar.
Now the space was dominated by a crowd of at least a hundred strangers. Drinking and dancing and laughing with one another as they were accompanied by the sound of music.
"I need a drink," Ophelia muttered as she glided through the crowd.
Atlas, unfortunately, couldn't make an appearance at this party. Something that Ophelia wasn't all that bummed by considering how drained she was. Instead, Ophelia was attending as a friend of the Avengers. Someone they knew, someone they trusted, and someone who was most definitely not a superhero.
But even if she wasn't in her black and gold garb, the blonde brawler still attracted plenty of stares when she reached the bar.
"Tequila. Two shots." She ordered the bartender, looking impassionate at the men that leered at her body.
