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Post by Remy LeBeau "Gambit" on Mar 27, 2013 0:26:47 GMT -5
{February 3rd, Selina and Remy, ball at a Gotham banquet hall, go!}
Gotham had a darker energy to, the pulsating of life that flowed from corruption. When the Batman fell there were other heroes, but Gotham hated the noble the way New York exulted them.
It was the perfect place for a hired thief and contractor to meet.
And unlike New York, here the criminals glittered in the sickly smog filled light. The rich of Gotham were the criminals now, by and large. And with the help of a certain feline fatal, Remy was very comfortably established as an acquirer of the unacquirable.
Pity these folks didn't catch he was not long looking for a someone's payroll.
Perhaps pity was too strong a word - this was a very fine soirée.
The teared crystal chandeliers cast the banquet hall in pale gold light, the draping cream colored fabric which hung from the vaulted ceiling to pool on the floor ripple ever so slightly in the stirring air. Remy watched the gathering from the second floor balcony, the marble rail chilled as he placed a hand on it, leaning his weight on the arm.
Bellow was a sea of swirling vitality - women in stunning dresses of vibrant colors, men dressed in black suits with flowers tucked in their lapels. And everywhere was excitement at the mystery - the delight of a masquerade had the socialites abuzz. Some wore feathered masks, ones styled to look like flames, ice, birds, beasts - Gotham designers had had a field day.
Remy wore a genuine Venetian, covering only the top half of his face. The off white paint looked cracked, with a diamond pattern of vivid purple to contrast. When he turned his head, flashes of card suits in silver sheen could be seen - one for each purple diamond. He'd dawned a black suit - his purple threads had lacked some subtly - but kept his hair as he always wore it. He was, however, missing a flower.
He'd been asked to attend for some tiresome business proposition, though the contractor had the sense not to invite him into his home. That meant he was paranoid. The thought amused Remy.
Tugging his lapels, pushing his hair back as it made to tumble over his mask, Remy descended into the party. At the bottom of the stairs he bumped into a gentleman, and apologized in his soft drawl. The man was drunk and happily so, laughing and patting Remy's shoulder before drawing a woman up the stairs. Remy did a mock salute with two fingers, then slid the man's red rose into place in the slit on his own lapel as he entered the swirl of those talking moving towards the dancing part of the party.
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Post by Selina Kyle on Mar 27, 2013 0:49:08 GMT -5
Selina wasn't attending this party for business or celebration. These banquets repulsed her nearly as much as the men who were desperately attempting to gain her attentions and affections. She put on a good act, smiling like she were charmed, and laughing lightly.
Many of the women had draping brightly colored dresses that flourished beautifully and nearly brushed against the floor to fit the theme. Selina? She wore a black dress, glittering when the light hit it right, slim and reaching the floor quite easily. A thin slit went up the side so when she moved a certain way it flashed some of her leg and the straps were modest, but the dress took a dangerously low plunge down her back.
To complete her attire, a black mask to match her dress and a necklace. It looked to be glass, with dark roses against her pale skin, and small crystals encrusted in the fragile petals. It was truly a gorgeous piece... Gorgeous enough that she'd taken it for herself and worn tonight. A stolen piece. But still pretty.
She had a bored look in her eyes as a man had taken her hand, and dipped his head to press his lips against her knuckles. It might have been sweet, if not for the hungry way he looked at her when he rose. Selina smiled, a bitter smile, but the man wouldn't know any better, or even think twice about the coldness in her eyes.
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Post by Remy LeBeau "Gambit" on Mar 27, 2013 1:14:01 GMT -5
Remy stopped on the edge of the dancers, scooping up a flute of champagne from a passing waiter dressed in gold threaded uniform. Some people and their money.
He smirked, taking a sip as he examined the dancers. The invitation, delivered to the charming hotel styles in the 1920's he'd been haunting, had only told him to come and hear about a mutually beneficial venture. Honestly, he wasn't eager to turn whoever the sender was down. They usually threw a fuss - hence his deck in his pant pocket, only half a set so they didn't show.
At first his attention was drawn to a pretty thing in soft blue, clearly practiced in dancing and doing all she could to be noticed. He wasn't the only one watching her, almost painful as he diamonds let out rainbow reflections as she spun like an overpriced disco ball.
Somehow, he doubted that was the effect she'd been going for.
But as the peacock swirled like a whirling dervish, her partner hurrying after her as she went headlong into the mob, another woman caught Remy's eye.
She wasn't dressed in childish pomp - slimming black, with the confidence of an exposed back and even a slitted leg as she moved. She exuded powerful grace, not needing to show off simply because she knew she was always seen. Her partner was a blue hair, grinning like he'd been given a major award and salivating like the woman was a slab of fine cooked veal.
But as the pair turned, Remy caught a glance at the necklace. He stiffened, staring intently for a second look. And a third. There was no mistaking the delicate black roses, petals enveloping diamond. The necklace his partner had lifted not long ago.
"Well, are you going to ask me to dance?"
Remy blinked, looking down to find blue and puffing standing before him expectantly. She thrust out a hand. Remy lowered his champagne, glancing at the woman sliding further away. "Ow' could I say no, to such a eloquent request?"
The girl giggled - this one was young and damaged. Suddenly, Remy felt sorry for her. "Oh, are you french?"
He placed the champagne on a passing platter, then smiled, guiding the girl out into the dance. This was outside his realm entirely, and his picking up of what to do he owed entirely to his natural gifts. "Cajun."
"Oh." The girl cooed. "You're from South America."
"Well, yeah." Somehow he doubted she was picturing New Orleans, but didn't have time to explain as he shepherded her further into the crowd - didn't these things have a switching part? Remy had to tug the peacock in order to get her next to Cat Woman and her admirer in time for the hand off. His partner looked a little disgruntled as she found herself faced with the elderly man, but that was the last he saw of her as he turned his attention to his new partner, giving a quick bow then straightening, lifting a hand in offering to continue the dance. He didn't speak - it'd be a dead giveaway. He wanted to see what she'd do.
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Post by Selina Kyle on Mar 27, 2013 2:19:31 GMT -5
Selina sighed, deliberately projecting her boredom with an expression that suggested she was growing very tired of this man, his conversation and his gawking. She put up with a lot more than she had to in these sorts of affairs, and hardly needed to put forth any effort. At least with these kinds of men. They were too easy. Just as she was considering leaving, when a hand off in the dance had been reached, her path was blocked.
She'd turned away from the first man, only to be intercepted by a second, which didn't surprise her, but he was perhaps not the type she'd been expecting. Eyes carefully watched him bow, and then flitted to his hand as he offered it. With a passive face she eyed him skeptically, people around them continued to dance for a moment, until she accepted. Her hand gently slipped into his, and she gracefully slid into position to pick up at the correct place with the music.
Selina hadn't taken her eyes from his mask since he'd stepped in, and for the first time this evening she looked curious, but didn't bothered to speak. She hadn't seen him in the crowd of dancers before, leaving her to wonder where he'd slipped in from.
"Your dancing is lovely." she said in a sultry voice, face still neutral. But the tone had a hint of sweetness to it, false to her personality which left it up for debate on whether she was making fun of this man or not.
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Post by Remy LeBeau "Gambit" on Mar 30, 2013 19:26:49 GMT -5
Your dancing is lovely.
Was she working the party? Remy had come to associate that tone with wanting something - and Catwoman took what she wanted, she didn't wait for some muscular male to hand it to her. He inclined a brow in a nod - not to confirm but rather to acknowledge the comment. He might have countered it with 'And so is your necklace, Kitten.' but a thrilling idea had just sparked.
What if he could manage to unmask her?
Remy didn't bother hiding his face, he already had a solid record. When he worked a job, he simply cut out anything that could capture an image of him. His partner didn't have the luxury of mutant talents - although at times he wondered, with the way she flexed and prowled like she was part jaguar. She'd lifted her goggles once or twice, but always in the dark and he never got a clear enough look to identify her.
He didn't want it for ammunition - something to lord over her like an arrogant alpha male. Rather, he wanted to know better the person he'd been working with. He wanted to be able to find her, if he ever got the sense she'd had a issue with fencing some of their wares.
And, of course, if she crossed him - he wanted to be able to find her to deal with her himself.
His eyes lifted to the crowd. They were near the center, which meant he had plenty of examples to follow by. But they were all dancing so... strictly. Restraining themselves. Why dance if you cant feel the emotions running over your skin like velvet?
Without warning, Remy released his hand which was holding her side and swung her out wide, between two other partners who looked over, clearly a little perturbed by the sudden swift motion. Then he tugged her arm, spinning her so she returned with her back to him. He looked beyond over her shoulder, and saw a huddle of older women watching him with positively scathing stares.
Grinning, Remy leaned down and scooped her right off the floor into his arms, one going under her side, the other making use of the leg slit to grab her high up leg in order to keep a grip on her as he turned round, daring a laugh and more people began to stare.
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Post by Selina Kyle on Mar 30, 2013 19:57:39 GMT -5
He'd swung her out, before she could manage to get another word out or question his silence. She gasped slightly, but didn't resist when he'd pulled her back in. She didn't want to make a scene, didn't want to draw attention. At these sorts of things people all followed the same rules. Anything else made them uncomfortable, and when they weren't comfortable they were harder to work.
This most definitely made them uncomfortable, the collection of stares quickly increasing.
And then he scooped her up, one hand on her side, the other her upper leg. Now she was becoming less amused, but still followed through. She didn't want to make a scene. A smooth scene was better than an outburst, like she were offended. At least it'd look stylish.
She'd flash a flawless smile like it were all planned, but roll her eyes as the man laughed.
Then the grip on her leg shifted, and she was being turned over, her arm's untangling from holding herself in and straightening out, so she was hanging above the ground facing her masked stranger, one of his hands holding hers, the other tucked under her knee's.
Of course this was bringing in a lot of attention now, particularly from Selina's previously schmoozed line of men, and a whole new collection of annoyed women. Especially with how her black dress was sliding up over her legs flashing her skin 'scandalously'.
If these ladies only knew her.
Selina found herself grinning, an intoxicating sort of feeling rising in which she desired to break the rules of these pompous people. It would be so much more fun to shock them instead of soothe them into an amiable situation. This feeling was free, but it was also... a little familiar.
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Post by John Blake "Nightwing" on Apr 4, 2013 13:33:02 GMT -5
Humiliating. Stupid. Pointless. Why the hell am I here?
These words ran on repeated through John Blake's head as he stood in a corner of the room, glass of champagne in his hand and an annoyed look on his face. Even beneath the mask he held; an ebony and dark blue mask which resembled some animal he couldn't identify. Barbara had picked it out as well as the suit he wore; navy blue with black buttons and a black tie and vest. He's protested, rolled his eyes and whined almost like a child when Babs told him to go. There was some kind of meeting going on, criminal enterprises forming and corrupting, not to mention John had taken the place of Bruce in the socialite circle since his death.
He had responsibilities; that didn't mean that he had to enjoy himself.
He would have much rather been out fighting Gotham's elite criminals or even curled up watching the Knicks get destroyed on TNT with a beer in his hand. Now, though, he was stuffy, annoyed and watching a pair of dancers entertain the crowd.
His eyebrow raised. The male sure as hell didn't look familiar but the woman...he'd for sure seen the girl before. He pushed himself forward to join the crowd, watching. Waiting. He was damn sure he'd seen her before, he just had to get some kind of look at her.
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Post by Remy LeBeau "Gambit" on Apr 4, 2013 17:41:24 GMT -5
If there had been any question it was Catwoman - after the fact, it was possible she'd sold the necklace - the dance ended it. That kind of fluidity, the flawless transition into the dance move without warning, even the physical strength required to preform it - anyone else would have messed it up somehow and forced him to compensate. She never missed a step or swing.
Remy's breathing had quickened - there was physical exertion involved in moves like these, especially in a suit. But his smile couldn't be broader, nor his admiration. She was, as ever, a singularly accomplished woman.
He pulled her hand, tugging her back up but easing her legs down to return her gently to the floor - no need to break her ankle on the way down. The song was ending just on time, the other dancers shifting about uncomfortably. A couple decrepit matrons looked ready to have them thrown out. Their husbands who had been haunting Catwoman looked to find the prospect quiet agreeable - at least in his case.
Taking a half step back, Remy leaned down to place a kiss upon the hand he still held, eyes darting out to the crowd. At random he selected one of the many turned faces - a dark mask with blue, matched suit, continuing to watch him as he stood.
"Hmm." Remy murmured, swinging his voice low to insure the noise wasn't typical to his own tones. Remy tilted his head jerking his chin towards him, a gesture meant to direct Catwoman's attention to the man who was staring rather attentively. If she turned, Remy would slid his hand up and slip free the tie of her mask. If that failed, he'd have to come up with another way to distract her.
One thing was certain. He was determined to catch a glimpse of his mysterious partner.
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Post by Selina Kyle on Apr 4, 2013 18:14:12 GMT -5
Selina made to straighten out her dress when she was placed on her feet steadily once again, pulling down the slit in the side of her dress that had hiked up her leg. But with her free hand, it had been pulled to the lips of her ever so mysterious dance partner. Perhaps the only one she'd enjoyed tonight.
She had been becoming increasingly suspicious of his silence, and was planning to do something about it when he'd gestured to someone else in the room. Instinctively, she turned to look, squinting her eyes to take a better look at the man. He seemed familiar.. in the way he carried himself, and the shape of his shoulders. With the mask, it naturally complicated identifying him.
But then the ribbon holding her own mask up became loose, and the black glittering piece fell from her face. She caught it sharply with one hand before it managed to hit the floor, but the damage had already been done. Selina realized much too late who this silent man was, so turning and looking him directly in the eye, she fixed him with a sharp and annoyed glare.
"Go ahead." she said in a dangerously low voice "Take a good look. Kind of ruins the point of a masquerade though, don't you think?"
Remy had successfully pissed her off, by coming here, dancing with her and then unveiling her of her mask. He'd tricked her, and she should have seen it coming. It was definitely a pride bruiser. All traces of amusement had been lost now, as she stared up at him, looking like she wanted to fight him, right here in the middle of all these people. For the moment, she wasn't concerned with the other masked man who had been previously pointed out.
For now she could assume that it was merely a distraction while she tried to place where exactly this was all going now.
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Post by Remy LeBeau "Gambit" on Apr 4, 2013 19:45:41 GMT -5
"Easy now, Kitten." Remy's lips quirked slightly, but he was careful to ease off his smile. She was very evidently pissed, and he wouldn't put it past her to have that whip curled somewhere on her person. "Can't blame a man for bein' curious. Sides' if I mean' ta use dis for some ill begotten plan, don' tink I'da let chu see mah face prior."
He tilted his head down slightly. "I am sorry to ruin da fun. How 'bout I make it up to chu? I'm 'ere on account'a some fat cat - pardon de analogy - wit some big plan, lookin' for someone wit fast hands. Got to tinkin' I might use em for some mischief."
Gradually his smile crept back, trying to lure her away from thoughts of murder. He was almost genuinely sorry - the touch of guilt for unmasking her in such a mixed crowd was real, his guilt for gaining the knowledge of what she looked like was false.
After all, he was a thief. He was far from perfect.
He offered his hand, giving his most inviting look. "Lemme put dat back on for chu."
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Post by Selina Kyle on Apr 4, 2013 20:49:39 GMT -5
He wasn't nearly as cool as she thought he had been, if he thought she was going to let this slide without a cold shoulder. She narrowed her eyes, looking down at his hand and listening to his soft words. He was trying to soothe her, and maybe another woman would've eaten it up. But Selina? Maybe not.
She tucked the mask close under her chest, squaring her shoulders and tilting her head, and giving him a very dignified unimpressed frown. Perhaps to play into what the rest of the crowd was like, pompous behavior wasn't really Selina's style.
"Think you're going to have to rely on your own fast hands." she replied dully, and then attitude sparked, "They certainly seem to be doing a good enough job without my expertise, anyways."
She was of course, referring to how quickly he'd pulled the string and dropped her mask. She fixed him with a pointed cold stare, before turning her back to him and making to leave.
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Post by John Blake "Nightwing" on Apr 8, 2013 23:30:47 GMT -5
Son of a bitch.
His hand faltered slightly as he kept his mask to his face, watching the woman's fall. Selina Kyle. The kitty cat thief. John's eyes narrowed darkly as he gripped the stalk of the mask tighter, making sure not to give away his face to the girl, not before he could observe this new fellow on her arm.
He didn't want to be suspicious, to interrupt but there was just that chance, that chance she knew something about Bane. And anything he could find out he'd try and find out. So he decided to press forward, pushing through the crowd. He stopped beside the gentleman dipping and twirling her. "I think you're making the ladies sweat," he purred darkly, "Maybe take five with this lady here? We're acquainted."
He held out a hand for Selina to take, still holding back his own face until she accepted.
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Post by Remy LeBeau "Gambit" on Apr 9, 2013 22:30:36 GMT -5
"Kitten," Remy said gently, reaching out the grab her arm as she moved to leave. His hand brushed the inside of her arm, but his attention diverted as a male voice spoke. He tilted his head, examining the blue and black mask he'd flagged earlier.
The one who had been staring so intently - like most the crowd, but him in particular.
"For shame, mon ami." Remy tutted. "Chu talk like der all de same!"
His position shifted slightly, so he was between the new male and Catwoman. He kept his tone friendly, but he noted the man hadn't attempted to call his companion a friend. "Sides' what kind of a man do chu take me for? Tah leave a radiant young lady wit a masked man of questionable morals. 'Less she wishes?"
Remy looked over his shoulder at Catwoman. It was a genuine question. Something about this one rubbed him wrong, but she was a big girl - and a damned prodigy of combat. If she told him to step aside, he would. He wouldn't enjoy it, but it was her call.
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Post by Selina Kyle on Apr 9, 2013 22:41:03 GMT -5
She hadn't initially given a second thought to Remy's soft call by her pet name, but with what came next, she certainly would.
Once again, Selina had turned to find herself blocked by yet another wishing to dance. She listen to his words, investigated his posture and tried to register a face to his voice. He spoke in a way that she'd very distinctly recognize, and since her guards were already quite high this evening after the trick Remy had pulled. Well, Selina wasn't quite willing to be fooled another time. She wasn't sure her pride could take that.
So eyeing his hand carefully, she eventually turned her nose up at it, shaking her head with a smile that was supposed to make him believe she did indeed feel bad for denying, but was doing it anyways. Selina took Remy up on his... offer. That hurt her pride too, but she could deal with that instead of a private talk with this new man.
Selina slipped up closely to Remy's side, one hand clutching her mask closely to her, the other she rested on his chest.
"It'd make him a terrible date too." she remarked, without taking her eyes from the still masked man. She narrowed her eyes carefully, peering at him, sparing a fond glance to Remy for casual effect. Then back to the man.
"And I'd be equally terrible to leave him as well." she added, "In fact, rude of me."
Selina was making it perfectly clear that she didn't intend to be lead anywhere alone with this man. Too many red flags going up, her paranoia usually wasn't without reason.
"I'm sure there's nothing to be said that can't be said now. Else saved for another time." again, she offered a smile but not without her final words.
"Mr. Blake."
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Post by John Blake "Nightwing" on Apr 9, 2013 23:57:45 GMT -5
Blake nodded his head, a tiny gleam of a smirk on his thin lips. He lowered his mask, the attempt at a suave debonaire look so the ladies of the crowd and the fluffy Gotham elite would find him in good spirits, despite the annoyance which flowed through his chest. "Touche, Ms. Kyle, touche."
He backed up slightly, raising an eyebrow to take in the gentleman who clearly wasn't from Gotham. Not a masked hero nor villain he recognized. Not the Hatter, Baby Doll or anyone else, no, some suave charmer which would have given Bane's mouth or Crane's psychological speak a run for their money. He sort of had a distrustful look to his face, something that would have given BRUCE himself a run for his money. "Who's your friend, Ms. Kyle? He's not the type you usually run with, a bit...young and handsome don't you think?"
"If you don't mind me saying," John huffed, raising his hand up defensively, "If you'd prefer not to talk, I can let you continue your...kitty cat tango." He offered a young smile to the couple watching a few eager socialite eyes flash towards him including a pair of silver-blue eyes behind a red mask.
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