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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
[ A laugh, but a threat hangs there in the air. ]
no subject
I won't break any of your birds, Cobblepot. Don't get your feathers ruffled. After all, what kind of business relation would I be, were I to do that?
no subject
[ He doesn't exactly back down, but the threat is gone. He wasn't about to test Roman, not so soon, and most certainly not with no reason. That would just draw ire he didn't need. ]
And tell me, what are you going to do in regards to business?
no subject
[He puffs on his cigar for a moment, savoring the flavor.]
I'm still browsing, as it were.
[Translation: none of your business.]
no subject
[ And he laughs, and finally takes his own sip of his drink. ]
You might wish to hurry, before all the good industries are gobbled up. You never know who'll have a hand in what by the time you get going.
no subject
[He relaxes back in his chair, crossing an ankle over one knee.]
It's a good time of year to sample pies, don't you think?
no subject
[ An eyebrow lifts above his monocle, but he still remains leaned forward, bent over his drink. ]
The holidays are a good time to watch the numbers too, hm?
no subject
[He lifts the glass to his mouth.]
I have no intention of competing with you. I'd much rather have you as an ally than an enemy.
[Which is to say he will turn on Cobblepot the instant he ceases to be useful.]
no subject
[ Likewise. ]
Hopefully we can foster a mutually beneficial relationship, hm?
no subject
[He uncrosses his leg and pushes back his chair.]
Let me know if you need any more favors and I'll see what I can swing.
no subject
[ He just grins, the man more than ready to do so, but only under his terms. Two men who probably shouldn't work together. ]
Oh, and do enjoy the rest of your evening, hm?
no subject
[Grinning, he stands, and raises his glass ever so slightly at Cobblepot.]
I most certainly shall.