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capeandcowllogs2011-12-12 07:57 pm
motherflocker.livejournal.com) wrote in capeandcowllogs2011-12-12 07:57 pm
Entry tags:
- kate kane | batwoman,
- oswald cobblepot | the penguin,
- † !—dropped characters—! †,
- † boston brand | deadman,
- † cross marian | general ginger,
- † daken | n/a,
- † joan holloway (harris) | marilyn monro,
- † raven darkholme | mystique,
- † roman sionis | black mask,
- † vic sage | the question,
- † zatanna zatara | zatanna
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.
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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But she was there to have fun. And this time, she was certain she hadn't accidentally wandered into a strip club. So Pietro really had no excuses to complain about what she and Raven were doing all night long.
She took a sip of her cosmo, breathing in the atmosphere. "This place is adorable, don't you think?"
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"It's pretty nice, though. Sort of..." What was the word she was looking for. "Low-scale classy."
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"And there are so many people. I can't believe all these imPorts turned out for the grand opening." There were dozens of people she recognized, people she knew by name. It was unusual to see such a cross section of society all in one place. Or so Angelica thought.
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She was looking around as she talked. "Do you really think they need that many bouncers, though?"
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Edward she didn't particularly hate or anything, but he'd broken Felicia's heart more than once, and for that, Angelica would hold a grudge. Osborn on the other hand... well, everyone knew he was bad news.
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Still, some of them sounded pretty awful. "Who is Norman Osborn, anyway? I've seen a few people mention him."
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"I don't know. It just seems harsh to judge someone when you can't prove it. Or for something they did on another world."
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