Author's Note: Another strange one. Enjoy.

Chapter 12

Though her feet were pincered inside 5 inch high black heels, Sylvia walked out of the building with ease and confidence. Her black mini skirt clung tightly to her hips and it was a marvel of modern tailoring that the tiny piece of clothing did not ride up to her waist as she moved. She had selected silky skin coloured nylon tights for the evening with a red turtleneck completely opened at the back. Her hair was tied into a loose chignon at the nape of her neck with a few strands purposefully set free on each side of her face. Heavy makeup, multiple rings of various sizes and colours, and rather large hoop earrings finished her ensemble.

Tonight she was meeting a new customer for the first time. Well, potential was perhaps the wrong word. The man would need to pay for the evening of course, but Sylvia was hoping to get him on the regular's list. A few of her old time customers had recently dropped off the radar, either caught by their wives or girlfriends, or maybe they had moved away or even just gotten tired of the whole thing.

Sylvia had long ago stopped worrying as to why some of her customers chose to leave, as it rarely had anything to do with her services. She was good at what she did.

The taxi driver who had been waiting outside for her took only a few minutes to arrive at tonight's location, a hotel she had visited more often than she could remember. It always took place in hotels, luxurious ones with a fancy restaurant and bar at the bottom and suites which cost almost as much as she did.

Sylvia paid the taxi driver, including a generous tip, and walked inside. The waitress on shift recognized her immediately and gave her a broad smile, Sylvia liked the staff in this particular establishment. Too many places tended to have employees which judged her and her work, instead of appreciating the fact that what she and her peers accounted for a great deal of the suites being rented in their hotels.

"This way Miss, your usual table is ready."

She followed the waitress through the dimly lit restaurant until they reached one of the more removed tables beside the window. Sylvia had it from years of experience that most men tended to get nervous during dinners with escorts and it was her job to try and minimize their stress.

"Thank you," she said as she took the seat which would force her client to sit with his back to most of the restaurant, and deposited her pristine white handbag on the floor.

"Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Yes, a white wine please. Thank you."

Nodding, the woman quickly walked away, returning soon after with her glass. Sylvia took a rather large sip of the chilled alcohol and smiled, she really did enjoy this restaurant. When her client was shown to their table a few minutes later, Sylvia stood to shake his hand. He was younger than the men she usually catered for and she found him slightly underdressed for the venue in his jeans and shirt, but she was not paid to judge.

"Vincent Savoy, nice to meet you."

"Sylvia, and same," she returned him warm smile and waited for him to take his seat before returning to hers.

He gave his order to the waitress who promptly returned with drink in hand as well as tonight's dinner menu. It was a short list, vegetarian or beef entrees, but despite the lack of variety Sylvia knew that the food was exquisite. She selected vegetarian, he chose meat, and the waitress then left them to their own devices. This part tended to be awkward for new clients, but she was surprised to see that Vincent seemed quite at ease.

"So, Sylvia, how long have you been living in New York City?"

"Nearing six years now," she said and followed his lead in taking a second drink from her wine.

"Where are you from originally?" he continued.

"Small town in upstate New York, not too far away. Wanted to live in a more...well, more exciting place."

He gave her an unimpressed smirk and Sylvia returned a well practiced smile, "How about you Vincent? Do you come to the big apple very often?"

He shook his head, "This is my first time actually. Nothing I ever really wanted to visit, but business takes you all kinds of places. Hopefully a onetime thing."

He gave her a knowing wink and she signed internally, so much for acquiring a regular customer.

As they waited for their meal to arrive, Vincent fell into an excited monologue on the woes of larger cities like New York City. How its core was rotten, its denizens selfish and uncaring. He brought up the homelessness, the ghettos, and the shady on goings in Central Park at night; she nodded and smiled through it all.

When the appetizers arrived, he began droning on about prostitutes and the way they polluted the streets and Sylvia began to hope that his skills in bed would at least outshine his social ones.

She had just finished the last of her salad when a familiar voice sent a cold chill down her spine.

"Clara?"

She turned, wide-eyed, to find Doctor Bruce Banner standing not too far from their table apparently returning from the gentlemen's room and looking at her with a confused frown. He was wearing a suit, no tie; his hair slicked back and his face clean shaven.

They had not spoken in over a week, since the day at the Cloisters. She had been wondering that very morning if she should call him and ask about their next meeting, but had not wanted to seem pushy.

She realized that she was smiling without meaning to, having forgotten where she was and why. The call back to reality came as an annoyed questioning tone:

"Sylvia?"

Her stomach turned to led. Bruce's eyebrow went up as he looked from Vincent and back to her. She turned to Vincent and excused herself.

"I am terribly sorry, please just give me a couple of minutes. I'll be right back."

Before her client could protest she had wiped her mouth, discarded the napkin and pushed herself up. As she grabbed a thankfully unresisting Bruce, she tried hard to sort out her thoughts into a coherent explanation for the man. She dragged him all the way to the hotel lobby and there she turned to look at him, wanting to explain things to him, and found herself mute.

He disentangled himself rapidly from her arm and took a step back, she cringed. This was going all wrong. As he had done so many times before, Bruce stuffed both hands in his pants pockets and hung his head low as if staring intently at his feet. She was still trying to find the words that would magically make him understand everything, when he spoke first.

"Sylvia? Is that...that's not your real name is it?"

"No! No, of course not. It's a, a sort of person I become, sometimes when meeting clients."

He scoffed and shook his head, "Is Clara your real name?"

She froze and felt the last facades of Sylvia slip away from her. The entire ritual of the evening to become that confident woman, crumbling horribly in the face of the meek doctor. She stared at her perfectly painted blood red nail, a colour never worn otherwise, and felt her throat tighten in a giant ball of emotion. She really did want to tell the truth.

But could not.

Bruce spoke again, "Listen, I have someone waiting for me in there. I should go."

"It's my middle name," she looked up and found him already half turned away from her, he stopped when she spoke but did not look back. "It is. I haven't used my first name since I moved to New York. Bruce please, Clara is who I really am. But when I work...You need some kind of defense in this job. If not, if you just go as you and expose yourself like a nerve; well, then by the end of it there won't be much of you left at all. Sylvia, she's my shield against a lot of the stuff that happens. Do you get that?"

The man sighed, his shoulders slumped and his anger seemed to melt. However the next words out of his mouth spoke of a boiling rage seething deep inside.

"Pepper paid you on my account."

"What?"

"I saw the two of you when we came back that day, she handed you money."

"Oh Bruce -"

"Don't, seriously. I'm not daft."

It was useless to pretend.

"No, you're right. Pepper did give me money, and it was because of you."

There was horror on his face, despite him having known. Bruce Banner was a romantic.

And she was a whore.

She smiled, he frowned.

"Pepper's a very honest woman. I never told Madam Nevian how the evening of Stark's party went. As far as my boss was concerned I attended and was paid for a social presence. But Pepper called Nevian. I guess she just felt bad for sending me off with you, thought it must have been a real inconvenience."

She chuckled dryly, his eyes began to enlighten.

"Prostitutes of all kind tend to be pretty possessive about money. Nevian pounced on Pepper's offer to compensate the unfortunate event. But this money had to be given cash as a type of generous tip, so that Nevian wouldn't have to tax it. I went back with you to the tower to meet Pepper, but I knew you kinda hate this whole part of me and what I do. So I didn't involve you in it. It wasn't supposed to happen in the lobby..."

She sighed, and his mouth was open and round.

"Oh."

"Telling you would have been the better decision. I'm sorry."

She felt something itch against her cheek and reached up to wipe away tears she had not noticed. Her fingers were stained with wet mascara and foundation, she must have looked like a mess. Behind the silent Bruce Clara noticed a woman approaching the window dividing the restaurant from the hotel lobby. Bruce noticed her eyes and turned to the woman, then back to Clara.

"Let's leave now."

This caught her by surprise. But she answered instantly.

"I want to. You have no idea how much I actually really want to."

"But you can't"

"I'd lose my job."

Bruce chuckled, and Clara reprimanded him, "That's a bad thing Bruce, not a good one!" But she laughed too, shortly.

"Will you be out all night?"

"You'd want to meet me? After?"

He shrugged.

"I'll be home at 11."

"Okay."

Clara cocked her head to the side, but Bruce left her and rejoined his date. A taller woman than him, conservatively dressed compared to Sylvia's garish attire. As the couple left she felt the woman's icy blue stare running over her body. Judging.

She barely retained the urge to pluck Bruce away from this newcomer and hiss: he's mine.

Barely.

Vincent was not happy when she returned to her table. Their food had arrived and was growing cold, but like a good gentleman he had not wanted to begin his meal until she arrived. She apologized profusely, spontaneously coming up with a bullshit story about how Bruce had been her brother's friend. She tried to make it sound as boring as possible and after a few sentences Vincent veered the topic back to himself.

Clara listened politely and pretended to be completely engrossed in parts of his ramblings. Sylvia was gone, and instead of the made up persona to get her through the evening, Clara began examining her client for aspects which she found attractive.

He was a good looking fellow, clean and stylish despite his lack of fancy clothing. She looked at his hands which were excitedly animated as he spoke, they were large and soft with groomed nails. Not a man of physical labour.

His hair was dark blond and his eyes grey, more wrinkles between his brows than around his eyes indicated a man who did not laugh much. Still his face had all the proper angles which made it handsome, and Clara could find no fault in it.

She was beginning to grow curious about what might be under his shirt; her thoughts clearing from any other distractions to focus on the here and now. And just as she was very much looking forward to settle the bill and head upstairs he began ranting about whores again.

This ripped her out of her fantasies. Clara began to seriously question the sanity of someone who seemed to hate escorts so much, and yet hire one for the evening.

Honestly, it was creeping her out.