"The world is strange indeed," agreed Narshawn. "You may drink alcohol with no effect, where it would likely kill me to have even a small amount." She refilled his glass, holding it between two fingers until a mist began to swirl from the bottom.
"For villains, what would all these people do if there were no evil to fight? Nature finds a balance, if there is one mighty hero, there will be one terrible villain." She spoke matter-of-factly, hardly trying to dispense wisdom.
"And if there were no heroes? If all it would take to get rid of crime was for heroes to disappear, I'd leave in a split second. Always did want to be an Architect. Somehow, though, I think it's more complicated than that."
He took a sip of the drink in front of him, savouring it for a moment before swallowing. He paused for a moment, thinking, then continued speaking.
"You know, some people believe in a god of some sort. Can't rightly say whether I do or not. All I can say is that he must be some sort of cruel son of a [censored]. Balance?" He snorted, as if the word held some sort of joke, "I don't think so. Just a crap-shoot, I think. Innocent people are out there on the street, dying because people like Requiem, Nemesis, or Countess Crey survive. No, if you want balance, then City Hall needs to untie our hands. Let us fight fire with fire, so to speak. I can't count the number of times I've found some kind of evidence to put Crey away for good, only to have it dismissed in court because some of her lackeys found the right people to pay."
My story arcs: #2370- Noah Reborn, #18672- The Clockwork War, #31490- Easy Money
Sartre once said, "Hell is other people." What does that make an MMO?
As she stumbled across Oliver Street, Bettina decided that she definitely liked the concrete they used for the sidewalks in Kings Row much better than what theyd used in Steel Canyon. It had more texture and character, definitely.
A car barely missed running her over, the driver laying down on the horn as it went past. She barely noticed and fumbled over the curb on the opposite side of the street from where she had fallen. It was a good thing shed had the sense to sift through some of the inspirational interface cards shed recently purchased and had managed to slide the one labeled Awaken in to the slot she had installed between her second and third ribs on her left side. She already owed the medical establishment in Paragon more than she would like to and besides, she hated hospitals. Half the time it took even the best doctors forever just to sort out the meat from the metal, anyway. However, she wasnt just going to lie around on the sidewalk. An office building carpet, maybe, but not concrete, pretty as it was. She wasnt going to wait around for the things that had knocked her out to circle the block and take another shot at her either. She grabbed the handle on the first door she came to and pulled, just hoping it would open
and it did.
She found herself in a small, green curtained alcove. Once she was sure they werent following her, she paused to examine the prize she had taken from them. In her right hand she clutched the forearm of a Clockwork knight. It still had the hand attached to one end, but the other looked like it had been hacked off just before where an elbow joint should have been. Her lips spread into a satisfied grin and she put the severed arm under her own left arm as one would a rolled up newspaper.
Something beyond the alcove smelled awfully good, and she needed a rest anyway. What the heck, she thought as she parted the curtains and stepped through. An unbidden thought that at the rate she was going, soon she wouldnt need to worry about such trivialities as food and rest, immediately followed. She amended that with the observation that she liked food even if she hated needing rest, but by then she had almost walked right into a podium and the man standing behind it. She suddenly realized that she hadnt even bothered to look at what kind of place shed just wandered into. Public, private, friendly, hostile? Could be any of the above, she couldnt guess one or the other by the look the guy behind the podium was giving her, but she did get the distinct feeling that she was way underdressed. If public, it didnt look like the kind of place that would admit someone clad in patched together armor, some of which would never come off as it was part of her physiology now. The large sword, only about a foot shorter in length than she was tall strapped to her back by a series of metal rings rather than a sheath proper was probably more than enough for the man to show her to the door. Something smelled really good though. She looked at the man through her goggle like optical implants. Little mechanical shades behind the lenses slid up and down periodically as though she were blinking. Then she poked her head, crazy blonde hairdo and all, past the man as far as she could to get a look inside without actually crossing the threshold.
(OOC: Hope this is OK being my first post here. Couldn't help but jump in as I can't say I've ever enjoyed being a fly on the wall more in a very long time. 
)
"We all do as we think best," Narshawn watched the scaled man through the side of one eye, she was trying very hard to learn how to speak without lecturing. "Not every contact is completely clear about their intentions, not every mission well defined. Some are known to take....liberties, with their vague jobs." Her disturbing smile, her tiny, piranha teeth showing.
"I do not think you would find many heroes that doubt Countess Crey is involved in evil, or that Nemesis should be jailed. The process is to protect people, like perhaps me, that could be seen as a villain." Her eyes had no true brows, but the widening of her eyes conveyed the same emotion.
"Look at me, do I not look like a villain." The small smile became one that wrapped mostly around her head, blue light shone from her eyes and icy spines protruded from her arms and shoulders. Teeth grew, from small points to long barbs as her breath wafted frozen waves. Her voice dropped in tone, "This is how I truly am, would it not bring heroes to defeat me if I walked the streets thus? Citizens fear me, so I maintain a more...human appearance." The changes receded, leaving behind the small woman in deep blue, not a costume, but her frozen skin.
"I am glad that the city and heroes maintain a system of courts and justice, though I do understand your point." She poured another two fingers for his glass. "Those who serve evil, are repayed by it. One of my Sisters has met those people, and can gladly say, she has seen them in the Ziggurat.
"So far as a greater power, I believe in the Goddess. You may call her by any name, but I still believe she watches over me, over all who serve the greater good. Someone must," she smiled, close lipped, "I am an ice woman tending bar in a city full of heroes, apprenticed to a woman more than a hundred years old that looks no more than thirty and working for a woman made of stone who's partner is two people in one body. Could that be accident?"
Martin took a careless step, trying to appear as though he was lost in thought, and actually interposing himself between the newcomer and his dining room. For all that Martin was unpowered, a simple waiter, that room was his domain, and few would get past him without a reservation or escort to a table.
"Pardon me," his voice conveyed that accidental surprise. "I did not see you come in," he sketched a quick bow in apology. "I am Martin, the Maitre 'd, and this is Ladies by the Lake, allow me to welcome you. May I ask if you have a reservation?" He glanced at the seating chart, noting several empty tables.
"We have a table available, if you wish to sit, or you may perhaps appreciate the Bar, which also serves a complete menu." His trained eye took in the woman, the pieces of cybernetics, the somewhat bewildered expression and the arm in her possession.
"Ahem, would you like me to check that item for you? I can assure you it will be secure." His hand waved towards the arm, a polite quirk of his eyebrow followed.
((OOC: Welcome to you Betty! Martin is, as you have read, a little proper and might seem stiff. He is. However, he will seat you, or gladly walk you to the bar with the professional demeanor his particular trade knows. He asks to check the arm, but you can carry it to the table, he is only worried about possible injury to the fixtures. Bots are notorious for coming back at inopportune times. 
))
"Gal," Beth caught her boss's eye, approaching the grill. "I'm going to get changed, Manion should be here soon. She blushed, Gal looking on with a knowing smile.
"You get your butt off the clock, girl. I tol' you we weren't tha' short. Use the office ta' change." The tanker was happy that someone like the young man had shown an interest in Beth. Vegas had checked out his story, his clearance, his place. Gal had called a stop when the scrapper head of security had mentioned something about his garbage.
Beth walked quickly to her locker, pulling out the dress, as ironed as she could make it. The office was just down the hall, and opening the door, she saw Vegas was elsewhere. The girl hung her dress from the hook on the door, pressing the button on the handle. The office was small, and someone opening the door could be painful. Halfway through her changing, she had to move a small box from the one chair to make room for her work clothes, her name was penned on the lid.
Curious, she peeked inside, a small piece of paper laying over the contents and pulling the note out, she saw a bracelet of blood red stones.
Beth,
You can't refuse a gift without hurting my feelings. I think this will look nice with your dress.
Gal
She stared at the gems, they couldn't be real. Once dressed, she admitted, it did look nice. Now all she needed was Manion to complete the night.
Manion walked through the front door of the restaurant at the agreed time. "Hello again Martin." he said to the the stiff gentleman. "I'm meeting Beth. Is she here yet?" he asked, looking past Martin into the dining area.
He looked a little nervous. He was actually, although he couldn't think of a reason why he should be.
He was also dressed a little differently than usual. Gone were the tee shirt and jeans he normally wore. Instead he wore a blue button-down dress shirt, open at the collar, and a pair of black dress pants. In place of the leather jacket, he wore a matching black sport coat. His boots were replaced with a pair of dressy, but comfortable shoes. He wasn't wearing his gloves tonight, so he didn't have to take them off and put them in his pocket. He carried a single long stemmed rose.
Clearly he hoped to make a good impression tonight.
((OOC: LOL, my garbage?!? 
))
(OOC - had real life rise up and gobble all my free time - or at least that not spent in-game! Please think of Festival nibbling away at her meal with a look of sheer, unadulterated bliss on her face. I'll post something real as soon as I can!)
"And in this moment, I will not run.
It is my place to stand.
We few shall carry hope
Within our bloodied hands."
[ QUOTE ]
"We have a table available, if you wish to sit, or you may perhaps appreciate the Bar, which also serves a complete menu."
[/ QUOTE ]
Betty was about to ask to be seated in the dining room when she heard the front door open behind her and she turned to see a very nicely dresed young man carrying a single long stem rose enter. At that point she decided that she would feel totally out of her element, and she'd better just ask to go to the bar. As long as they had the full menu because even though she was beginning to feel a little less addled at this point, she still wanted to get a taste of whatever was cooking.
The host seemed a bit stuffy, so she figured sh'e better introduce herself properly first.
"Hiya, Martin! I'm Betty Clocker. Nice to meet you." Her nearly white face reddened somewhat as she realized that not only had her introduction come out a lot louder than she meant it to, but that she'd unconciously held out the Clockwork hand to greet him instead of her own. The cheerful grin slid into a sheepish half-frown as she felt the heat rising up the back of her neck.
"Heh, getting a little ahead of myself there," she said in a much quieter, conspiring tone as she quickly clutched the arm to her chest as a child would a favorite teddy bear. "I guess I'll just have a seat at the bar, so long as I can still grease the old gears." She patted her stomach with her free hand.
[ QUOTE ]
"Ahem, would you like me to check that item for you? I can assure you it will be secure."
[/ QUOTE ]
If it's all the same to you, I think I'll hang on to it." Her voice lowered even more to a whisper. "Gotta spend some time and make sure it's... uh... compatible, if you know what I mean."
Martin politely directed her to follow him down the short hallway to the right.
At that point, the beaming grin returned, any transgresions either real or imagined forgotten as she folloed him down the hall and took a seat at one of the stools so that she wouldn't have to remove the sword from her back. She placed the arm beside her on the bar and appeared to be contemplating it intently as she waited for the bartender to take her order.
((OOC: Dangit, Im sorry. I didn't mean to cut. Please assume my conversation with Martin takes place after you are seated. 
))
[ QUOTE ]
She placed the arm beside her on the bar and appeared to be contemplating it intently as she waited for the bartender to take her order.
[/ QUOTE ]
Narshawn glanced over from the man she was speaking to, noticing the metallic object on the bar. A moment later, Gertrude noticed it as well, and the various sharp or jagged components jutting from it. The waitress winked at Narshawn, and removed the white and blue-striped bar towel from her waitress' post.
"Good evening, Miss," Narshawn excused herself from the man for a moment, catching the towel in midair. "I am Narshawn, and I am certain Martin intoduced you to Ladies by the Lake. Would you care to put that on a towel, I would hate for some drink or moisture to cause corrosion. The wood is alive and contains a large amount of water." She deftly flipped the towel out to lay next to it.
"Will you care for a beverage, or perhaps Gertrude can get you a dinner menu?" The ice woman gazed at the arm, then at Betty, with a small, hopeful smile.
((OOC: Betty, you sly lass. 
))
[ QUOTE ]
((OOC: LOL, my garbage?!? ))
[/ QUOTE ]
((Semi-OOC: Dark Vegas is a master of security and surveillance. Do you realize your garbage is a great source of information about you? Dumpster Diving is common among good detectives. Manion needs to lay off those Hero-O's. 6 boxes in a week!!! You need more veggies....oh, and b the way...your subscription to Inside Kung-Fu is about up...you might want to renew it. ))
((OOC: What can I say, Vegas IS thorough.))
"Good evening, sir." Martin looked Manion over, like an appraiser at a Christie's auction. "I believe Miss Beth is currently indisposed, but we have your table waiting. Please follow me."
His dour smile, resembling the tempered face of a long-suffering uncle, lead them to a table, near the front picture windows. Watching the people traffic in this part of town was a form of entertainment, since the old theatre up the street had been refurbished, and some plays were being shown. There was a bundle of fresh Hyacinth in the tall vase, a small candle setting.
Martin passed between the table and Manion, blocking his view for a moment. Almost magically, when he was clear, the vase was empty and the flowers nowhere to be seen.
"Perhaps Sir would care to freshen the rose in the vase?" His word was 'vaaase'. "I would recommend the Viudas eighty-three to start, as Miss Beth proclaims it one of her favorites, but the L'Ecole forty-one is equally refined." He held out Manion's chair, "Suggestions only, sir. I would not presume to think I knew wine better than you."
Across the room, Beth swept out of the office area's door, a little wobble in her heels. She quickly compensated and glanced around, seeing no one at the podium. Martin did not turn, could not have seen her.
"I believe that Miss Beth is arriving now, sir. May I escort her to the table?"
((OOC: How DOES he do that? Fine English Butlers and Servants take pride in their ability to make magic happen.))
((OOC: 
See? SEE why Sibling shreds their receipts from the club? We mean, what receipts? That was for groceries...lol))
((OOC: Verizon is back at it, so if you post and don't see a response from us before tomorrow, blame them. Otherwise, we will be watching!))
Dark Basilisk watched the mechanical woman approach the bar out of the corner of his eye, focusing his interest on the metallic arm she had brought with her. Without turning to face her, he spoke.
"Clockwork, eh? From a knight or a cog by the size of it. 'Course, I've never been one for war trophies, but hey, to each his own." He took another sip of his drink and continued, "Seems to me that you might have more use for a trophy like that than most, though."
He paused again, looking down at his glass as if trying to decide whether or not to put the remaining liquid out of its misery. Seemingly deciding, he threw the drink back and let the hand holding the now empty glass fall heavily against the bar.
"Good vodka." Basilisk turned to face the newcomer, "So, your name's Betty Clocker, huh? Heard you introducing yourself out there." He focused his gaze on the arm now resting on the bar, "So, what's his story?"
My story arcs: #2370- Noah Reborn, #18672- The Clockwork War, #31490- Easy Money
Sartre once said, "Hell is other people." What does that make an MMO?
((OOC: I understand about scouring garbage for information. It was just a little surprise to read is all. ))
Manion followed Martin to the table. He wasn't really concerned where they sat, but even for this part of town the view from the windows was nice.
"The rose? The vase? But... " looking at the vase he realized that it was empty. He was pretty sure there had been flowers in it just a moment ago. After giving Martin a confused look, he agreed and placed the rose into the vase. "Thank you." He decided it was better not to ask.
After listening to the wine suggestions, Manion looked slightly embarassed and said, "Actually, I don't know the first thing about wine, sorry. The Viudas... " he paused, realizing he was horribly mispronouncing the name, "... Beth's favorite, will be fine please. Thank you for the suggestion."
Manion was about to take the seat offered to him when Martin mentioned Beth's arrival. Looking up he saw her enter the room from the back area. He was a little confused at first, but remembered her mentioning she wanted to talk to Gal about something.
"May I escort her to the table?"
"Oh, of course, please" he said. He still hadn't taken his seat. He smiled as she followed Martin over to the table. Once she had been seated, he joined her.
He hadn't taken his eyes off of her, and now that she was right in front of him, Manion wasn't sure what to say. He was about to compliment how she looked, when a polite clearing of the throat from Martin brought Manion out of his fog.
"Oh, um, thank you Martin. The Viudas sounds good, that is, of course, if it sounds good to Beth." he blushed slightly, his pronunciation was a little better, but the foreign word was still a little clunky on his tongue.
As he waited for Beth to answer he suddenly wondered why this was so hard. He realized he was probably putting more pressure on himself then there needed to be, and he hoped he wasn't embarassing himself in the process.
[ QUOTE ]
((Semi-OOC: Dark Vegas is a master of security and surveillance. Do you realize your garbage is a great source of information about you? Dumpster Diving is common among good detectives. Manion needs to lay off those Hero-O's. 6 boxes in a week!!! You need more veggies....oh, and b the way...your subscription to Inside Kung-Fu is about up...you might want to renew it. ))
[/ QUOTE ]
((OOC kinda sorta?: Yep, I knew where it was going. Just didn't expect it is all. Oh and about Inside Kung-Fu... I got a free 1 year subscription from Future Dynamics in Talos. Buy a 6 pack of Medical Devices and they practically force it on ya. Not really impressed to be honest, so I'm letting it lapse. Now, Aikido Illustrated, thats good stuff. ))
"Martin's suggestion sounds wonderful, but I am no wine expert." She blushed, unsure why, but Manion's attention could be it. "Do I look OK?" She brushed at the dress self-consciously.
She noticed the rose when Manion helped her sit down, holding the chair like a gentleman. Looking around, she realized it was the only one, and blushed again. From under her eyelashes, she was snatching looks at him, and wasn't sure if he was wearing aftershave, or if he just smelled nice.
"You look very nice," she mumbled, feeling foolish and quickly burying her reddening face in the menu, as though she couldn't recite the entire offering from memory.
*For goodness sakes, act like a grown woman!* her little voice inside called. *Hey, he's hot...* it sounded suddenly interested. She sighed and suppressed a delighted giggle.
((OOC: Bah, subscribe to Phillipine Knife Fighting, way better. ))
"You look great tonight, that's a beautiful dress." It was stunning actually, but he didn't want to say to much and make her uncomfortable.
He smiled and tried not to laugh when Beth disappeared behind her menu. He knew she could go over the items backwards and forwards without having to look at it. Somehow, knowing he wasn't the only one who was nervous actually helped calm him down a little bit.
He picked up his menu too, looking over the items, but not really reading it. "So, what looks good tonight?" he asked, hoping to bring her out of hiding and get her talking again. After all, that was the reason he was here, to finally sit down and have a normal conversation with her.
He wondered if she would have been more comfortable in regular clothes. Maybe getting all dressed up put a new facet on the date that he hadn't expected.
"That's a nice bracelet." He said, noticing it on her wrist. "What kind of stones are they?"
((OOC: Ahh yes Phillipine Knife Fighting, a real sport to be sure. Unfortunately Hero Corps has forbidden me from using any sharp objects after an 'training accident' in Galaxy City. Lets just say it's a good thing Back Alley Brawler wears those big metal gloves. I was a little too eager to get revenge on those Blood Brother Slicers. That's ok though, kicking stuff is fun too. ))
"Gal is well known for her steaks, but I don't eat much red meat." Beth dropped the menu slightly, getting control of her cheeks. "She usually has the staff sample everything before she opens the doors, at least what they can eat. If someone asks about a dish, you can tell them because you've had it."
She was trying very hard not to meet Manion's eyes, every time she did, she felt like staring. Even under the jacket, his shoulders and arms were defined. His hair was well cared for, some strays near his right ear, but that was only cute, one of those characteristics that made him seem even more handsome.
"I will probably have the salmon, a little piece. The way people in this town eat, I don't see how they stay in their clothes. If I ate that way, I'd be fat," she shrugged, "or fatter, anyway.
"So, besides taking people like Council and Skulls to jail, what did you do today?" Her innocent question carried a lot more weight than she wanted to let on. She was around heroes like Gal and Narshawn, but they spoke to each other in strange phrases, inside jokes about Toadstools and Puppy Dogs. She thought it must be a hero thing, something the average person wouldn't understand.
Maybe Manion would be the same, most of his daily routine going over her head. Her life would be pretty uninteresting by contrast, working at Gal's, doing laundry down the hall, groceries, visiting her PO. That alone was her most dreaded task, but at least for the next few years, her calendar had that marked, twice a month.
She smiled, hoping she could compete with the derring-do of a hero's life.
((OOC: Shame, Manion, where do you think Gal learned to use a cooking knife like that? Not everyone uses a 12" Wusthof Trident for fine work!))
"Wait, wait, back up a sec. Fat? Fatter? Than what?" He was a little surprised. Looking at her he couldn't imagine she might have concerns about her weight. "I don't want to sound crude, but I honestly don't think salmon will hurt your figure."
She may have been insecure about her petite build, but Manion liked her even more because of it. So many of the women he was around while fighting crime were 'overbuilt' in his mind. A little too much of everything. Most times he found it intimidating, although he wasn't sure why. Beth was a refreshing opposite, and the dress she chose fit her perfectly. It accentuated the delicate curves of her body, and Manion had a hard time not staring. He looked down at his own menu for a moment.
"My day was actually kind of boring to be honest. No arresting anyone. Lots of paperwork. That's the one part of being a hero they don't tell you about at registration." He put down his menu and shook his head. "My Security Level just got raised, so that was one mountain. The Freedom Phalanx accepted me as a Reservist, so that was two mountains. A lot of questions I've filled out dozens of times before. Background checks mostly. Criminal, drug, residential, family, financial, personal references... blah blah blah. I hate doing it. You would think that after the first dozen times, I wouldn't have to do it anymore. I guess they just want to make sure I am really me, and not some clever criminal that managed to get ahold of my ID card. I had been putting it off all week, but it really couldn't wait anymore. So after I went out and got this outfit, I sat down and forced myself through it all. Hand is still sore, ironinc huh?" he said with a laugh, rubbing his left hand a bit.
"So, how about you? Aside from making yourself look gorgeous, what did you do today?"
"How much wine did you drink before I sat down?" She asked playfully. "Gorgeous. I've seen some of those super-women, some of them have super parts, too..."
She let that drop, pursing her lips and making a 'pish' noise. She knew that even with the splurge on the Vic's Secret Miracle, her front was flat like Kansas. She had tried to convince Manion, but he still seemed interested, or at least he kept saying she looked good. He certainly looked good. Well, it had only been a couple days since they met, maybe he was in a slump.
"Me? My exciting day was finding out my cat had managed to get into the cabinets and discovered the cat food bag. She also figured out how to tear it open and spread the stuff all over. So I had to buy a big tupperware, clean it all up and hide it. I stopped at Sheherazade for a couple things, which made it lunch. Ironing and writing a letter to the City about that Hellion dive down the block...Oh, and I spent an hour on the stairwell, I swear I'm the only one that cleans in that building." She was lost in her account, then realized she was being boring.
"Uh, yeah. Exciting, huh?"
[ QUOTE ]
"Good evening, Miss," Narshawn excused herself from the man for a moment, catching the towel in midair. "I am Narshawn, and I am certain Martin intoduced you to Ladies by the Lake. Would you care to put that on a towel, I would hate for some drink or moisture to cause corrosion. The wood is alive and contains a large amount of water." She deftly flipped the towel out to lay next to it.
[/ QUOTE ]
"Hiya Narshawn," Betty said, smiling as she moved the arm so that it was resting safely on the towel. She was about to go through her introduction when what the little ice lady had said registered. The bar was alive? It certainly didn't look like any green wood she'd seen before. As it dawned on her that this trick must have something to with magic, the smile faltered for a moment and she stiffened a little in her seat. She had grown up in Paragon, so strange things were, well, no stranger to her. BUt, she'd only had a little bit of personal experience with magic, and it made her nervous. First, the lady over at city hall who seemed to keep loosing things. Betty figured she forgot enough stuff as it was, she was working on making that problem obsolete, but if that's what messing around with magic got you, she could do without. Then there was that CoT place she'd got caught up into raiding in the hollows, full of things that she could swat at with her sword and it would just slip through like nothing, she didn't like that at all.
[ QUOTE ]
"Will you care for a beverage, or perhaps Gertrude can get you a dinner menu?" The ice woman gazed at the arm, then at Betty, with a small, hopeful smile.
[/ QUOTE ]
Betty smiled again, deciding that even if the place was made of magic, thus far she'd gotten a much better reception here than what the CoT gave her. Besides, she was way to winded from the incident out on the sidewalk to really do anything about it if it turned out these people were hostiles and getting the menu seemed a lot more important right now anyhow. "Yes," she said. "Perhaps Gertrude could get me a menu, and a drink..." She stuck out her thumb, indicating the man in black down the bar. "What's tall, dark and scaley over there having?"
[ QUOTE ]
"Good vodka." Basilisk turned to face the newcomer, "So, your name's Betty Clocker, huh? Heard you introducing yourself out there." He focused his gaze on the arm now resting on the bar, "So, what's his story?"
[/ QUOTE ]
"Mmmmmm, vodka... vodka gimlet, please." She grinned even wider at the icy bartender, then turned to the man addresing her.
"I guess his story is that the was a dirty little thief, but I get the feeling you knew that already. Now he just found out what it's like to get a little of what you give." The optical implants seemed to knit in annoyance, and the grin turned into somewhat of a scowl. "If I'm any kind of a hero, I suppose I'm something like Robin Hood... you know, steal from those who have and give to those in need. In this case, his ilk would be those who have, and those in need would be me." She smile returned and she picked up the arm again, lining it up with her own left arm and then modeling it like a hostess on a game show showing the audience the expensive watch the contestant had a chance to win. "Eh, what do you think? looks a little clunky, but then these never seemed to slow me down." She spun sideways in the stool and stuck out her overly large riveted metal feet. "In fact, since I instaled the hydrolics, I don't think I've ever had more fun getting around."
---
(OOC: Manion, no big. I figured you'd stop to straighten your tie or something before approaching the podium,
so you didn't really cut. As for the rest of you - I can tell I'm having way too much fun here already.)
A tall man, bald and his skin the color of a lobster, walked through the door and parted the curtains. Martin noticed him immediately and moved from behind the podium. The newcomer's eyes glowed a rich blue, his movements as though in a hurry.
"Mr. Broady," Martin addressed him, "May I inquire as to why you are needing the seal and signature of a Notary. I understood your call, but must say I am unsure about the reasoning." The Maitre 'd's tone was cool, but he would never show doubt when speaking to another.
"Martin, me frien', I am as unsure as you. I received thi' by tha' post." Handing over a letter with the official City of Paragon seal and letterhead. Martin took a moment to scan the letter.
"I have spoken to Miss War, but let us see if this is perhaps a forgery. You are a hero, now, Mister Broady, and there could be many who would happily lead you into a trap. This way, Miss Candice," he caught the woman's attention, which seemed much sharper than the other night, "Please take care of the seating for a moment, and do not leave the podium." His tone was stern, but she nodded eagerly. Gal's fifteen minute talk with her had apparently made some good.
Martin lead the other man towards the kitchen, receiving a nod from Gal as they passed. "Good to see ya' tonight, Steve," she said in passing. The skillets were hot and she was constantly moving them from high heat to simmer or sear. Like any good chef, she would set the burners and never change them all night, moving the food instead.
Once in the kitchen, Martin nodded to several of the staff, Gypsy just leaving with the platter for the brightly colored woman. His destination was the end of one automated dish washer, used exclusively for the glassware from the bar, right now idle. He raised the smoked glass panel at the last section, using a towel to make certain no water remained on the steel platform.
Steve Broady watched with fascination. He had never seen such somplex equipment, and the uses he understood, but people washed dishes in his time. Even the simple mixers and kitchen tools were amazing, electricity still being a laboratory experiment when he had left. Martin closed the compartment, the paper still visible but shielded by the smoked panel.
Martin pressed a button, manually activating the stage, a faint blue glow eminated from the small bulbs mounted in the upper surface.
"Mister Broady, this is called an ultra-violet light. It is harmful to human eyes, but can kill germs quite well, with no chemicals. The City imprints their official documents with watermarks that appear only under such light, and as you can see, this bears one such mark." He pointed to the glowing ink in the shape of City Hall, repeated many times across the page.
Switching off the device, he removed the letter and read it over again. Steve's full name, and even his proper employment dates with the Pennsylvania Railroad, a mention of some entitlement and insurance plan.
"Let me get my seal, sir. We will place this in the record and then there may be time still to reach the registrar's office at the City Hall." He moved with some speed, still stiff and proper.
Inside the office, Martin placed his imprinted seal on the document and signed a Notary document that indicated this was indeed, J. Steve Broady. After writing it up in his record, where all his seals and transactions were kept, he handed it to Steve.
"Thank ye' Martin, I'll be sure ta' tell ya' what is the word." The bald man patted Martin on the very pressed sleeve, smiled and quickly made his way to the door, heading for the tram to Atlas Park.
((OOC: Steve is about to get some good news, and I had to fit it in somehow. It has to do with something that happened in-game, and I am trying to find a way to explain it. Hope this is ok with everyone...))
Gypsy carried the tray on her shoulder, the thick cloth of her Cossack trousers and blouse whispering quietly as she walked. Most of her outfits were the same, deep burgundy, midnight blue or a burnt orange with the old writing embroidered on them, forming patterns and images. Her clothes spoke of her family, her Kak. She enjoyed colored clothing, had some more outrageous outfits as proper for a Gypsy of high status, for family gatherings. So many here had poor taste in color and style, these skin tight outfits with no adornment but spikes or steel plates.
She caught sight of the table the order was for, and then the woman with the wine glass. Her eyes widened at the colors and style, a woman with taste!
"Madam, I have brought your dinner," her Slavic accent was heavy, but she was careful with the words. She was obviously appreciating the woman's clothes, her dark lips pulled up in a smile that showed no teeth. "I say your eye is sharp for beauty, a saying from my home." She realized that she had not yet layed out the meal, and quickly started.
The plate was layed out with the fish, just the slightest sign of crispness at the corners, some herbs placed around the rim. The pear was on a separate plate, and cut in such a way as to resemble a peaked tent, some sliced away for effect and placed to one side like a set of bleachers. The potatoes, likewise, had been sliced and crisped in the shape of three rings, touching. Gypsy's smile was smaller now, more self-conscious.
((OOC: Gypsy's Queen is the last of her family, something she has come to terms with. She loves being a Gypsy, or Romanes as they call each other, is a Sister under Narshawn, but certainly more blunt than most. Some comments may sound rude, but that is her small language barrier. Being royalty, sometimes she will be a little aloof, but with someone like Festival, a member of the honored Carnival tradition, she would be quite at home.))