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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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"Me? Alright. Finding my feet. I heard that they were hiring entertainment here. Figured I'd come see what I'd be up against." So far, he isn't exactly concerned.
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She eyes the be-fishneted server that walks by, and then looks back to Floyd.
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He follows her glance, needing a second to even figure out what she means. Then he shrugs. "You've got to have a little something nice. Keep them buying drinks and coming back."
No upset or outrage over the way the servers are dressed. Nothing strange about that, as far as he sees it. But a complete and total lack of personal interest in them, too.
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...and she chocks Pink up to 'gay' or 'taken at home'. Whichever.
"Going to return to recording here in the City? You could go independent -- still need venue connections, but they're doing a lot with internet distro these days."
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Is he going to go back to recording? The multi-platinum question. "Dunno. The legality of it's a problem. Can't use my stage name. And my legal name's awful." He runs his hand through his hair. "I might want a break, actually. Give it a while before I start thinking about it. Catch up with everything. I love playing. But recording's a trial. And touring is hell."
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"Well, the City is good for breaks. But you will eventually have to find work." She considers. "Have you considered the line of the critic? Considering how much you've seen, and would need to soak up some more of the last few decades of music..."
But hey, it's a thought.
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And one that he really, really likes, just at first blush. Oh, hah. That would be one way of making his strong opinions work for him, wouldn't it?
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"That'd be fantastic, if you could."
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"A fan," she replies. "Very passionate about it, though."
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"They all are." There's a prickle of annoyance that doesn't show on his face. Someone has a few issues with 'fans.'
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"Probably. Or at least they all think they are," she says with a smile. "Had a couple of my own I'd rather not get into -- and I'm just a reporter. Can't imagine what some of them get like for you."
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"Definitely part of why I could use the break, though."
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A nod and a raise of his drink, as a goodbye. And back to watching the acts.