capeandcowllogs | I'll just live on in the Dark

WHO: Anyone heading to the Iceberg Lounge
WHERE: At a damn fine building downtown
WHEN: 12/12; Night
WARNINGS: Will be edited if necessary.
SUMMARY: Opening night!
FORMAT: Whatever you want! Tag yo'selves in!

Walking into the bar is like walking into a wide open room, but the dimmed lights never seem to be bright enough to catch every detail in one swoop. To the far right wall is the bar, and a long bar it is, with bartenders lining it spaced by about five feet or so in between. Nobody actually sits at the bar, of course. The bartenders are there to make drinks for the servers. While both the bartenders and server girls wear tuxedos, the women's are made for the intent to actually catch the eye, of course. Fishnets replace slacks, dressshirts cut much lower than necessary, and tophats on each woman's head. They grin, and flirt, and make their way, but the moment a hand drifts too far, there's the legion of bouncers who line the walls, watching for any infraction. The Penguin is, after all a chauvenist, but he is no pig.

The middle of the wide area is devoted to tables, an endless sea of white clothed tables, each one a unique and different ice sculpture in the center. Each one unique, lit from beneath with a light that lets an almost wet light radiate from each table.

And of course to the left is the stage, performers that never cease to move, or sing, or whatever is up for the next part of the night. Breaks between each are sparse, quick, and the music never becomes too loud. And the stage, it is lined with penguins. A bit of irony, perhaps, but Penguin wouldn't begrudge his prior career as a gotham rogue. Perhaps he even reveled in the reminder. Out there for everyone to see.

Regardless, there would be no grand plots or schemes tonight. Just a party.

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The slightest touch before she withdrew her hand and let it fall to her side. "I never miss the big parties here, Ozzie."

He accepted the only fleeting gesture, turning instead to look over the crowds amassing down below. "I'm touched, Selina. Truly! I should hope this one won't disappoint as far as parties go."

"As long as it's not too exciting." The Joker had talked about coming, after all.

"Indeed! That is the purpose of the guards, of course."

He pauses, to turn back to the cat burglar with a grin. "And, of course, we do seem to have quite a gathering of meta-powered individuals, do we not?"

She shrugged like she wasn't too concerned. "Not too different from a night out in Gotham," she replied. "Getting used to your own powers?"

He laughed softly. "In a way, I suppose. There isn't much to being resistant to the cold, Selina."

"Get the short shrift?" Or he wasn't sharing.

"Something like that. I haven't needed a jacket yet. I'm sure I'll stand out like a sore thumb come winter!"

Like he'd figured out he could turn a bird into an umbrella yet. Really.

She could be rude and say he always stood out. But she restrained herself. "Sure the guy made of rocks sticks out more."

He laughed. "Ah, yes. We have one of those, don't we? What a curious city we've been brought into, yes?" he paused, a drag, before he spoke again, smoke curling out with his words. "Although I'm curious how long ago that was for you?"

"Over three years." No point in lying, it was easy enough to dig up. "I was one of the first ones here."

"Someone finally managed to trap the cat, have they?" he asked, but his light tone belied a serious look. His tone followed, of course. "We're in something of a gilded cage, aren't we?"

It's clear she doesn't like the comparison. "Guess that's one way to put it."

He shrinks only slightly. He doesn't like it any more than she does. "A rather uncomplimentary comparison, I admit. Although we have as much space to really explore as we do at home, some of us more," he admits, a slight jab at any currently incarcerated in Gotham. "And yet, it doesn't feel right, does it?"

"It's not Gotham," she says. Not like she and Ozzie ever had a heart to heart on this, but it's something another Gothamite can agree with.

There wasn't much of a need for a heart to heart on Gotham. It just was, and it was a part of every person from there.

"Indeed," he agreed, stamping out one cigarette while smoothly affixing another.

Weird to agree with him on something.

"Planning for the long-term, then?" She never did. Not even in Gotham.

"Of course. Long or short-term, I'd rather not slum it," he said with another laugh. This was the Penguin, he wasn't about to go without the best he could find.

"No one wants that." She'd been living in luxury most of the time she'd been here herself.

"Indeed not! I just enjoy planning out how to make it last. After all, who knows if I will come in and out like it seems many of our friends of Gotham do."

"Or be stuck here ad nauseam." She didn't sound too bitter.

"And without the Bat, it seems! How boring."

And yet he doesn't sound too upset about it. Playing the informant to the bat always soured his stomach.