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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.
no subject
[He pauses, eyes flicking over Eddie's battle scars. They're nothing to him, but on Eddie, cerebral almost to a fault, they seem more significant.]
Bar fight?
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Not so much a bar, really. This place was a little loftier -- though I wouldn't so willingly make a repeat appearance. Interested in the clientele here? [He asked, quick to change the subject.]
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[If Eddie was going to be artlessly evasive, that was what he got. Daken pointed at him, suddenly.]
Rooftop fight. You weren't doing the superhero thing, I hope? You're not cut out for it, Eddie, no offense.
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Care to take a deeper stab?
no subject
[Just a pointless jab, or so he believed.]
no subject
Yes. It was exactly that.
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Oh, Eddie. So: what do you do to a man who's already done time?
no subject
You make him wish he had more time to do. But as fascinating as my hobbies are, I'm sure that isn't the only thing you wish to discuss?
no subject
no subject
Especially in he City.
no subject
no subject
[There was an edge to Eddie's voice, something rare. Something suspiciously unhinged.]
no subject
Ooh, I kind of like you angry.