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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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Careful, honey; you make that face for too long and it'll get stuck like that.
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I'll have to take your word for that.
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Ya got brains, toots. Enjoy that pretty face while you can.
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And good looks aren't everything.
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Why don't you get comfy and tell me about it.
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[But she's approaching, if naturally wary. Guy could be totally cool. But her instincts scream otherwise.]
Roxanne, by the way. I can't say we've met. I'm sure I'd remember.
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[He offers a gloved hand to her in introduction.]
Would you like my real name or my supervillain alias?
[He gives a chuckle, as though he means his words to be a joke.]
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Either or; gentleman's preference. [She doesn't take the humor at face value, but gives him a smile for it.] Never did get the hang of those. 'Nosy Reporter' doesn't have a ring to it.
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[A pause as he takes a sip of his drink.]
You covered that incident around Thanksgiving, didn't you?
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[Gotta give him credit; he's got style. She sips her own, though she manages to suppress a grimace when he asks about about the parade.]
Cover is one way of putting it.
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[He gives her a cheesy (although seedy may be more apt a descriptor) wink.]
Oh, no. Don't tell me you got caught up in that psychotic mess.
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[And if he's seen the coverage, he knows it. She has to wonder if he's nosing around to see if she'll be uncomfortable or if she'll roll with it; she has a hard time ascribing innocence to... well, that face. That face.]
It was a glorious mess, but survivable. Footage is a little-- graphic, but what do you do.
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[He gives a little laugh.]
You know if it was the first time something like this happened? With that particular gas, I mean.
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He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who'd have friends.
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We didn't have groups back home. The Doom Syndicate roamed but our boys were enough trouble just the two of them, so they stayed out of Metro City.
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<small[Beat.]</small>
The <I>Rogues</i>, hmm? Are those Scarecrow's people?
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Not everybody could.
[She laughs a little, shaking her head.]
Thankfully. Sorry. Mixing world terms -- not even sure if they're familiar to you.
oh wow look at all those raw contents D:
it's okay. think of it as the raw fish to the tasty sushi of your post? okay bad metaphor...
[sipping her drink, she considers.]
Why? What's your interest in the super scene?
i can deal with that
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That's not always possible, though, with the City.
[Someone is personally glad the Joker's on a glacier, okay?]
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[He tips his glass towards her before taking a sip.]
Don't the heroes help any?
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You tell me. Do they? Individually or on the whole, it's a pretty loaded question.
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