A Girl's Got Needs

[Raven "Mystique" Darkhölme]

(January 8th, open to all, oh lets say around 7:00 pm?)

Mystique crouched over the still form, eyes raking critically over the face swollen long before she got to it - fat, now with the addition of bruising. She pulled back the bloody flap of the suit jacket with a blue hand, fishing out a wallet from the inner pocket.

She opened it, looking for photos, ID.

"Brent Carow." She murmured, looking at the drivers licence. She jingled the keys in her hand, smirking. She'd caught him just coming home, and driven him to the other side of this dingy neighborhood just to be safe.

She stood, satisfied by the lack of any picture. Someone would find him eventually, at which point he'd describe his hulking male attacker - the bouncer outside a club she'd passed. But for tonight, she had a car and an apartment to raid.

This wasn't ideal, moving from flat to flat beating up the owners to make herself comfortable. Sometimes it took several attacks before she found someone with no family to come barging in. She pulled Brent further into the alley, put him with the other trash, then moved toward the mouth of the alley.

Reluctantly, her skin shot up and reworked itself, her body getting taller and thicker, black leather changing for tattered suit. She stuffed the wallet in her pocket, then began walking back down the street toward the dingy box of rust that passed in Brent's mind for a car.

[Peyton Riley]

Peyton's blonde hair stuck out like a thumb in the night. She'd just come out for her after dinner stroll to walk off the pain of Johnny's latest beating. This time it was her arm, so bruised it'd turned purple. She hadn't plead with him, no that routine had grown old and stale. No, she just stayed there and took it. Then she left the flashy upper crust apartment that was her father's engagement gift. Some gift. It spent most of the time in clutter because of how many time Johnny had thrown her against table and chairs. Against the lovely crystal clear mirror where Peyton checked her bruises before company came in. They'd replaced that damn glass cabinet so many times that she thought the repair guy was getting suspicious.

So now there she was, a petite little female in high heels and a dress wandering the streets of the narrows. Most would think this unwise but Peyton knew her stuff. If the criminals down here didn't know her by now they were morons. Or they were from out of town in which case the lovely little lady would pull a gun out of the holster on her thigh. She had no problem pulling the trigger either.

Peyton's friends were the only ones who saw a sweeter side of her. A sweeter side which was ruined by the bitter taste of cheap booze and blood.

Her heels clicked on the sidewalk as she avoided puddles. She passed an old car. "Poor chap's probably never driven in a real car," she murmured before stopping short, one hand covering her chest, the other hanging down close to the slit in her dress where if you looked closely enough you could see the black leather strap of a holster.

Her ice blue orbs narrowed towards the male before deciding to say nothing. Maybe he'd move on.

[Raven "Mystique" Darkhölme]

As much as she loathed the idea of climbing back into the container of many questionable smells, lingering the street meant being noticed - and she was still getting her feel for Gotham. She wanted avoid being seen - which of course made her more noticeable. She hitched her step for a moment as she saw the blonde examining her car with about as much favor as Mystique had for it.

She clasped the keys more tightly in the big awkward mits of Brent the beluga, taking the chance to observe the woman a little more closely. In her experience men like Brent didn't come across women like this and not gape a little - heck, if she wasn't batting on the other team these days she might have appreciated the lady. Plus she was probably human - some ordinary homosapien, clearly beneath her. She rolled her eyes and snorted before thinking about it - she needed sleep. And food, for that matter. This tubster had to have something worth devouring at his place.

[Peyton Riley]

Hn. Must be gay.

Truthfully that wasn't a compliment on herself. No, Peyton was used to looks and jeers especially by men of this chap's caliber. She pursed her lips towards the male, staring at the car once more. Even if she hadn't been miss priss and high society, the female would have had an appreciation of cars. This, she mused to herself, was not a car. This was a heap of screws and metal on rubber. She moved her heel deep into the dirt. She tossed her blonde hair over her eyes and shook her head.

If he was in the narrows he was down here for something bad. She did snort with a little bit of laughter as she drifted by. Like she was walking down here for something good.

[Raven "Mystique" Darkhölme]

She was meant to keep a low profile. She kept reminding herself of that. But she'd been absent from the world of humans for a while, living among those who knew to fear her. She hadn't expected it to sting as much as it did, the laughter.

But realistically, if Mystique had no vanity, she would have spent the first nearly twenty years of her life trying to look like the rest of them.

She clasp the keys again, watching the girl going away. What the hell? She had to be discovered eventually.

"Miss?" She called, the heavy tones of Brent almost surprising her. "Hey miss!" She moved back around the car from the driver side, smiling a wide dopey smile. "You really shouldn't be walking around her alone - all kinds of freaks out here."