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Post by Deleted on Feb 21, 2014 3:42:57 GMT -5
"I'll admit, the decor's a little eccentric. But the selection is top notch." Lex Luthor smiled as he lifted the snifter of Brandy to his face and took a whiff. Naturally it was the poorer relation of the superior and more delicate tulip glass, which pushed the bouquet straight into the nose. But Lex Luthor was not as much of an aficionado of the finer things as his old friend. It was more than adequate for him, and the stable structure suited him well enough not to complain.
The club itself was designed to resemble nothing so much as an older form of nightclub with predilection for hunting down unsinkable ships. The giant penguin statues were perhaps gauche, and the odd skimpy ski bunny look worked well for the waitresses, and of course women in fabulous drapes of tight fitting sequinned gowns attempted to flash plumage at the wealthy young men about town.
At various tables the more intense looking individuals sat. The scion of the Falcone family sat calmly at a dark corner, large men standing with crossed arms nearby. Another figure of eccentric dress seemed to be hovering at another table. Rough customers. Lex Luthor, ironically, was not at one of those dark corner tables, enjoying a comfortable booth. It was like old times with Marc, they'd had a friendship for quite a while, and Lex . . . almost felt like he could let down his hair, so to speak. Not that it was easy to tell the difference. No, he had no people there, no meetings, no agenda. Just a chance to catch up with an old friend.
Around at the Iceberg Lounge women well dressed in clothing far too light for the icy decor served with the efficiency, submissiveness and eagerness that was only brought on by an extreme exposure to fear and greed. The floor show was not particularly memorable at the moment, the light and airy sounds of the big band playing accentuated the scene. Those that knew the dark secrets of the Lounge would undoubtedly twist in shame or revel in the dark shadows of scandal.
Lex Luthor was dressed in an evening jacket with bow tie suited for the evening club feel of the place as he looked over his shoulder. "If I'd have known you were in Gotham, I'd have come by sooner to pay a visit. What brings you to this relic of a city?"
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Post by Deleted on Feb 21, 2014 16:34:20 GMT -5
He snorted. "You know my ...preference for this sort of thing. Gauche. Outlandish. Noir, in a campy, tacky way, Luthor. But, you said you're paying, and that they had a few good varietals. And Brandy." Marc laughed. A low, deep rumble that started in his taut belly, flowing freely from his lips.
It was good to see an old friends. Even if it was in this city, and not sparkling Metropolis. A sip of his own beverage solidified that he trusted his companion's taste in liquor. Quite well. Enough that he'd given his drive this address, without question, at Luthor's bequest.
He did admit he was unimpressed with the glasswear their beverages were served in. But the next round would be classic. Scotch perhaps. Or maybe wine. He could never turn that done. But aside from libations, there was the scenery. And not the chilly Icelandic theme. The women. Tall, short, covered, exposed. They were all here. Blonde, ginger, brunette. It was in his nature to apprecaiate the fairer sex. And appreciate he did. Much to Luthor's chargrin, as his host was exaserbated numerous times by his request for repitions in their conversation.
"Can you blame me! Honestly!" His jovial, French-afflicted words came as a large hand clasped the other on the back. He'd taken care with his own profile for the night. A bit more rouge to Luthor's streamline. He himself had on a dinner jacket, crisp startched shirt, dress shoes. Black slacks. In Leiu of a tie he'd unbuttoned his shirt, and wore a cravat. How his mother had shown him.
Running a hand through his hair, he grinned at his friend. "Business. Meeting you in Metropolis was a breeze. My scouts said Gotham would be a challange. And so far, I've found it to be, how you say, welcoming. Many lovely specimens have helped me find my way here, you know." He laughed heartily again. Sipped his drink. Blue eyes watched a woman clad in nothing more than silvered sequins walk the room. "What are you doing here? You never answered me that, old friend."
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Post by Deleted on Feb 23, 2014 18:07:41 GMT -5
Lex Luthor felt a genuine smile arise on a face often burdened by the weight of the world, actually chuckling slightly. "Marc, I can't blame you. If there's one thing I've always admired about you is that you're very open about your goals and your drive to meet them." He follows his friend's gaze to some of the women, and there ARE in fact everything desirable in variety, with every variation of the female form visible except for ugly. Lex Luthor considered them briefly with a practiced eye before losing interest. It's not that he didn't enjoy the sight of them, it's just they were so dull. What to get for the man who has everything? The subtle interplay of adipose on toned muscle was aesthetically pleasing, but not in and of itself worth keeping the interest of a man of Lex Luthor's status or ability. Lex's view on women was similar to his view of wines, beautiful, pleasing to the senses, aesthetic and sensuous . . . but Lex Luthor needed stronger stuff.
Marc's view of women was ironically also similar to his views of wine. . . for much the same reasons as Lex's. But Marc reveled in both wine and woman alike, pouring deep into their natures and taking both in with gusto. But still, there was a yearning in Marc that Lex understood, while Lex wanted something more challenging and stronger than a normal wine, Marc was always looking for that one perfect wine, he'd tasted so long ago. He spoke in melancholy at times of the best wine he'd ever had, and how he'd never taste it again, despite him searching for that White Whale of Red Wines. . . he reveled in the memories of fine wine and sought to recapture just a shadow with other lesser wines.
Lex Luthor enjoyed the man's company, his straightforwardness, his intellect and the man's sheer charm. Lex swallowed hard on the cognac as his eyes gave his friend the once over as Marc lwas served by a woman wearing little more than what appeared to be silk and body paint, his eyes stopping for a long moment to gaze on that newly delivered and barely contained scotch placed before the both of them. Lex shook his head with a bemused look. "You're not incorrect, Marc. Gotham's not Metropolis, but it's not entirely without its charms or challenges."
He shrugged as he leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin and putting aside the cognac snifter t to take up the high glass and sniff the scotch, and then to take a sip. "Business or pleasure, that's what you're asking, right?" He grins widely and puts the glass down "You know me, old friend. Business is a pleasure. There's opportunities in Gotham city for expansion, redevelopment, new partnerships. . . let's just say I see the jewel under the grime. It just needs a steady hand and a bit of heart to buff it up to a fine glow."
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Post by Deleted on Feb 28, 2014 0:07:19 GMT -5
Grinning, he laughed again at his friend. "You know it's easier for me to converse with you en français. Sometimes these words flee me. But I have found most find it more endearing rather than a lack of sophistication. And I have always strove for quality. In business, and pleasurable business." He shakes his head to his wry friend's humor. Lex Luthor is, and has been a formidable friend, and utmost help in business.
And he had an uncanny, unintended wit to him Marc found irresistable. As their waitress came to him, he leaned in close, whispering a few sweet words to the sweet thing, his hand splayed along her bare back. That thankfully did not come back with pink paint. She'd been artfully done up as..something. He couldn't put his finger on it, but she was certainly eating up his words.
Leaning back in his seat, two fingers pushed a glass toward Luthor. "We have to toast, friend! To what, this time? Fame, fortune, true love? Perhaps I could be as lucky as the first time, no? And wish you as much everlasting, longer than my first!" He was teasing, but a haunted glaze took over his eyes. He tried to keep it from his life. It had been a decade ago. If that. But still the loss of his wife clouded his days. Some were better, most were worse. But that fueled his work. And work fueled his passion. And those passions made him money. But not enough to find a partner that laughed at little joys, and cherished time spent with him like she had.
"If you need me to help spit polish this city, you have my number, always, friend." His glass was raised, clinking in toast to new ventures. Be they joint, or singular.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 4, 2014 10:50:16 GMT -5
"That's what I do enjoy about you, Marc. All business!" He laughs at that, then enjoys the man's attention to the woman. She seemed to enjoy the look and smiled, with her eyes in it and everything. She slipped him a small slip of paper into his shirt pocket, then caressed his hair and waved as she walked away.
Lex took the glass and said "To success in all things, Marc." he clinks the glass and drinks again before saying "They say it's better to have loved and lost, but I'm a believer that it's better to have won in all things. You have the world at your feet, but you still want more, that's a sign of strength of ambition, my friend. . . you'll find success, I'm certain."
He settles back, he was fond of the man, certainly. Well as fond as he could be of anyone. He knew Marc before the wedding, but never met his wife. From his accounts she was remarkable, but Lex had known some remarkable women in his time, and never felt as strongly as Marc had for his lost love. Too cold for such weaknesses, he'd other matters of ambition.
"I would enjoy your help, as a matter of fact. I've a gala upcoming, and I'm hoping I could rely on you to help supply me with a matter of some vintages. You're welcome to come, of course, although it's all business." He shrugs as he says "It's just another joint enterprise in the city, I might use it as an entre to try to expand LexCorp into Gotham. Who knows. Working with an interesting woman, although she's not quite as vivacious as your former love, at least if your stories are to be believed." He smiles faintly and then shakes his head.
"She's not quite as welcoming as that reporter, though. I bought her an Italian restaurant as a gift, you know. Falaccio's Italian Cuisine" He smiles at that as he says "That was new for me, but the whim struck me." He shrugged "Gotham does have its charms." He smiles faintly at that, then shakes his head. "And of course, you know that if you ever need further position or work, I've always need for your elegant touch. In fact you might be interested in some of the design work we've been doing. It's impressive, but I doubt it lacks your normal panache, but you know what I've had to work with. We're planning a "four elements" sort of theme to it. I've been trying to have the temperature controls work just so, and of course there's the design of construction and the hiring of the acrobats. . . I may have an unusual source for that, but we shall see. It's important to make a good first impression, after all. 0.10 seconds to do it, or so I've been taught."
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Post by Deleted on Mar 5, 2014 5:24:41 GMT -5
As uncouth were his methods, as his eyes regailed the feminine form, he was a studious man. Most assumed much from the suave Frenchamn, each and every time he was given a number, or when he toasted a drink. But his friend knew his ways. His heartbreaks. His joys. His business. To Luthor's sleek lines, his own were erratic. To the calm and collected Metropolitan man, he was a foreign vagabond.
So while he collected napkins with numbers as trinkets, his friend was bemused. "To success, Luthor. A man of your sort fails to never garner such a luxury. Share some of that with me, would you!" He added, glasses clinking, words mulled upon.
"Have you loved, Luthor? Have you ever lost yourself in the laughter of a woman that brings you so much joy, that you cannot live without her touch? That you become wholly possessed by even a mere whisper of her name? Of a woman in some ways so wicked, it's painfully glorious to hold her in your arms? Now you tell me if it is better to have tasted of that, and lost it, than to have never had it at all." His mood darkened at his friend's words momentarily, thinking to the past. As much as he tried not to, the past is where he dwelled time to time.
But Luthor changed topics, and Marc changed positions, skilled in more things that vineyards and dressing well. Hunched over the table he contemplated his glass. It would need a refill. "A gala. To what endeavor? And white, Gran Cru, sweet, dry, red? I can supply you with what you need, send me the menu, the caterer. There are some good places here in this Gothic city." Thumb brushes against his lower lip as he contemplates an event as such.
"Ever an eye for expansion. Wise move. Another interesting woman? I have met many. And a blonde. Vivid. Helpful. Full of love." He was talking of Ms. Vale, and not his Sia. "Is this woman you are working with a lesbian? Why would she run her own company. No man at home?" He scoffed as his brow rose. "I wish you luck. I am seeking my own expansion here, but my face attatched to a glass of wine is not the way. You need to experience the food. The wine. The atmosphere to figure out if it is the proper place to eat. To peddle my Baccanalian goods. You are aware." He waved the statement off and finished his liquor. The bottle tipped to fill it once more.
"Mention my name, as donator. That is all I will require. And I will help." Lex rambled about a reporter, and his interest was picued. "Falaccio's. Over on Broadway and 32nd? Quite a fine establishment. And for a reporter. You old dog. I don't need to even ask why she caught your attention. You've bestowed less on women for pleasing your tastes!" He chuckled, contemplating the amber liquid in his glass. "I heard their amuse bouche is delectable. Small plates to die for. An oral expedition in cuisine. You have invested wisely." Rubbing at his jaw again there is debate of an elemental style.
"It is because I am European. While I majored in Business, the Louve was my playground, Italy my backyard. If your woman seems to lack in ingenuity, I will take a glance. But for you to pair with her, she must have a certain joy in life, no?" Those eyes tracked a redhead across the room. She was balanced atop at least four inch heels. Drunk. But she moved with a predatory ease. "You see her? She is alive." He hissed, eyes meeting his friend's.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 6, 2014 17:19:33 GMT -5
Lex smiled at his foreign friend, the eccentric passions of the man oddly refreshing. Marc needed nothing from Lex, asked for little and met challenges as an equal. For those qualities, Lex appreciated his company. But it wasn't that Marc was without desires, needs or wants. He reveled in them so thoroughly that Lex always felt like he knew where he stood with Marc. Like the cleansing shot between the complicated courses, or the swath of primary color to contrast the details of a portraiture, Marc's passions were clear, base and met with a totality of passion that was endearing in a way. Lex portrayed himself as a stoic, but always appreciated the epicurean in Marc.
Lex smiled as he said "I've never loved as you have loved, old friend. I was told once that my passions are too cool for such a thing. It's not true, of course. I am a man of passions, of needs and wants. . . but I suppose my passions lean towards other obsessions." He drinks the wine offered and considers his friend.
The wine list he contemplates and then states "I will need all of those and more, I'll send to you the caterers selections and samples, and let you decide as you see fit. If you want your name spread, it will be done. If you want more, believe me, you have it, but I'd be happy to sing your praises for some time, Marc. You know I've nothing but regard for your tastes." The redhead that approaches and passes by has a notable architecture. Lex admires it on an aesthetic level, although it is of mild disinterest to the man. Women were present always, beautiful and willing, but he needed more.
"And should you require further investments into your expansions, consider me a happy and generous partner in your success. I know you need no money, but still. I'd love the opportunity to invest in your good fortunes and your name. I see your taste will conquer Gotham's culinary scene. Indeed, I've found a head chef I've been using at the Swan Lounge for some time, you should meet Chef Magritte. He might be an adequate partner for any culinary expansions you are considering."
"Miss Kyle has a certain cunning to her I appreciate. She has a sense of human nature, and an ability to face challenges head on that I appreciate. She is an asset, and an entre into the world of Gotham for me, although I'm certain she thinks she's using me for my resources." He smiled faintly at that "I'll be happy to let her assume that I am ignorant of certain facts about her, and certain goals she may have. In the end she uses me, and I use her, and we move forward to good end. She complements my weaknesses, as limited as those may be, and I'd like to think that I complement hers, for ego's sake if nothing else." He shrugs and then says "Still, as for why she runs her company, I'm certain she has her reasons and unlike most Gotham City natives, I see no reason to dwell on the mental status of my partner."
He looked at the redhead again as Marc hissed, a faint smirk on his face. "Yes. . . she is at that, isn't she?"
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Post by Deleted on Mar 9, 2014 0:20:53 GMT -5
"Yes. The things I would do to that ass. My ex-wife was a dancer. We would visit the discos until the sun came up. You should've seen the look she was given. We'd have a game we would play. She would dance. And we would bet on how long before she could piss me off, and get me to dance with her. She usually won, sneaking the money from my wallet. Another bet, to see if she could do it without me noticing. But her legs, Luthor. It was if they were carved from living marble. She was truly an objet du'art." He spoke with a heady fondness, a reverie for the past that was near religious. But as the redhead left their line of sight, he nodded to the rest of their discussion. As if he had come back from his visit to the past, and now had both feet firmly planted back on earth.
Setting down his glass, he had fully heard each request of his friend. "Perhaps you need a stoic woman. Or one of flame to heat up those cool tendencies. Or one of ice, like this establishment, to see your views and hobbies and revel in them with you, Luthor. But as for this party you are throwing I can deliver my selections personally. Email me the menu, I will correlate properly. The food here in Gotham is good but I can elevate it with liquor choices."
He refills his glass again as he raises it to Lex in honor. It was an old tradition he continued, from his university days. "If you want to partner I am willing. Magritte and I should do a tasting together. He sounds educated in proper cooking, friend. And this Kyle woman, she sounds too inspirational. And too easily played. Have fun with her, but if you choose not to indulge in her stupidity-you know to send her my way. I can utilize a droll but insistent woman any day." She laughed darkly before sipping his wine in a large, indulgent swig.
"But I do admit she must have some clout in this Gotham scene. You use her, she uses you. As long as you get what you want in the end, and the fucking is mutual AND possibly pleasurable; who care?" Another chuckle, and his mind was to wine again.
"I will call Magritte. And while I have no interest in your fancy party I will make sure to deliver the vintages myself. I don't trust many others to such a selection. But for you-I will do my best."
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Post by Deleted on Mar 12, 2014 7:45:12 GMT -5
Lex Luthor smiled and raised a glass to his friend in response, as the tradition warranted from older and happier times. "Then I'll make the arrangements for you to meet with Magritte, and to speak with the caterers. I can't thank you enough, old friend." He smiles as he drinks the wine. "You're more than welcome to meet my partner as well, but I'm not entirely certain she's your type. Then again, good looking IS your type." He shrugs and then settles in.
"Besides, I find that most worthwhile relationships are based on mutual use. Everybody wants something, Marc. When someone has clear needs, I at least know where they stand. There's something to be said for that." He leans back in the chair. "There's a certainty there, often reserved only with enemies. With an enemy you always can rely on them to remain true to their nature, and you always know where you stand. I like my friends with the same sort of certainty, before I open up to them."
"And that's one of the reasons I so admire our time together, I at least always know where you stand. Eccentricities aside, you are probably one the most open and honest people I know, which is one of the reasons I respect you." He smiles as he says "That and your pride to always exceed yourself and become better than your best. You're practically a superman, in the Nietzschean sense. . . " he lifts his glass again, and starts to feel the pleasant buzz in the back of his head .
Yes, this would be an interesting night.
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Gothamite
Marc Dahlmaine
A merchant of bottled amnesia for people thirsty to forget.
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Post by Marc Dahlmaine on Aug 3, 2015 4:35:33 GMT -5
He had missed these times. Lex, as he was touted in the papers, in the media, was not his Alexander. From their years in University, their years in Europe he had grown to the know the man well. And even now as they spoke and toasted he grinned, catching on to the slight joke his friend teased at.
"I am keenly attuned to my vices, making friends, and growing close to them. The things I like I cherish. And who is such a fool to not better themselves in this world? There are so many opportunities. And chances!" Raising his glass again Marc toasts in honor of his friend, and the wonderful scenery. Even if it is peculiar.
Tipped back he can only hope they are brought out fresh beverages sooner rather than later.
"Tell me. Why are we starting here? Are all of tonight's venues to be 'themed?' I am not a fan of all this masked this and masked that shite. We did not have that in Europe, and it seems to be a lasting fad here in this city." Glass returned to the table he gestures offhandedly.
"You had it taken care of in your own city. Is that why you are here? To bring it to heel?"
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Post by Deleted on Aug 3, 2015 6:01:49 GMT -5
"Ah, Marc, if you're tired of masks and themes, you're tired of Gotham." He sampled the new drink for a change, letting it settle on the tongue. He didn't have Marc's palette, but he was able to discern well enough. It was a skill learned like anything else, something to be mastered. And frankly, he had a gift for it, like he had a gift for almost anything he put his mind to and thought of as important.
Marc had taught him to take time to sample and know the finer things in life, and Lex was precise enough to have specific tastes, and wealthy enough to have them catered to.
"And we're starting here because it's an exemplar of the city. Gotham sees the Iceberg Lounge as the height of social grandeur, where criminals and gliterati mix in mysterious masks, scintillated by the air of some sort of gaudy mystery. It's so VERY Gotham. . . "
He gets thoughtful for a moment. Lex tended to when he drank. Sometimes he'd philosophize, sometimes he'd just get quiet. Marc remembered that quality of the man well from Europe. "My city has never had the taste for masks and theatricality that Gotham City has had. Metropolis is a city of action, progress, bright lights. . . a city of tomorrow. Gotham clings to its pasts. Prides itself on its eccentricities. . .Metropolis doesn't need to do that. Despite its remarkable history, Metropolis is and always will be The City of Tomorrow. Gotham? Well, there's always room for home." He shrugs as he says. "And as for why I'm here?"
He thoughtfully stares at the lights and décor, finger tracing the lip of his drink. "Maybe I like an impossible challenge."
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Gothamite
Marc Dahlmaine
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Post by Marc Dahlmaine on Aug 3, 2015 6:20:17 GMT -5
He laughed. And for a man who was mostly stoic and cared little for witticisms, he laughed heartily. "You have changed little, Alexander! An impossible challenge. What other challenges are there for you to aspire to, other than those that no one else even dreams to surmount?" Wiping the corner of his eyes after his own guffaws had ceased, Marc again would raise his glass to his long-standing friend.
"I am glad to see you are enjoying your glass. I can remember schooling you on nuance back home. It seems some of my lectures have finally taken root."
Downing his glass in a way that would make his mother smack him, he was glad when a waitress with rather unique, fine assets came to the table and replenished their drinks. He ordered a fine bottle of Grenache as well to enjoy, considering the pace they were already setting. It was turning out to be a long, eventful evening thus far.
"That must be why I preferred my time in Metropolis. It was a beacon of the future. Shiny, new, technologically advanced, beautiful." He sighed, laying hands on the new bottle of liquor. "But there is a time and a place for new, and old. For that which reaches to the future, and that for which learns from the past. It seems Gotham is not ready to turn her focus to her own possibilities."
It always amused him for those that needed to cloak themselves in masks and other shields, layers of this and that to do what they truly felt at heart. Why go through the additional farce when you could shed all the unnecessary glamours and bulk, and expend those energies on pursuing the passions at heart?
Shaking his head he removed a knife from his suitpocket, and sliced through the foil on the bottleneck, then in a practiced motion affixing the corkscrew to cork.
"I am not tired of this city, yet. I just have little time for charades." Opening the bottle with several turns of the wrist- the old fashioned way, but a tried and true way he had been taught, the cork was loosed with a sharp pop, and two fresh glases were poured of wine.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 3, 2015 23:02:07 GMT -5
Lex smiled in that languid way that he tended to when he was thinking something particularly awful, that sort of quiet megalomania that showed up right before he came up with a stupid plan that would end up redefining some industry or purchasing a small Midwestern town or inventing some sort of Robot.
"What other challenge is truly worth facing, but the one that no one else can even comprehend. The one that is beyond impossibility. Gotham's a fun enough diversion. Profitable, I'm certain, but also. . . I'm surprised to say I'm enjoying myself, which is an interesting experience for me." He shakes his head and then says "I"m not often Challenged, Marc. . . except in apocalyptic ways, facing threats that no one else seems to even comprehend the possibility of existing. . . " He listens to the music play in the background, a rather raucous beat that seems as glitzy as it does empty. The Iceberg Lounge sometimes felt like the Disneyland of Nightlife, a plastic facade on a rotting exterior. It fit Lex's mood well.
"Gotham is a nice change of pace, in many ways. It's quirks are amusing and its affectations endearing like some sort of dowager poodle, a strange beast to be gawked at and contemplated." He finished the drink and then awaited the new wine as it arrived. He let Marc serve it, Marc had a better sense of presentation and the flair for serving that Lex never had. He'd talk on about wines, and how the shape of a glass would affect the subtle variations of scent and flavors.
"I doubt I would appreciate these nuances without your fine tutelage at my more young and impressionable age. I've learned to appreciate pointless things, in moderation." He winked, teasing. They'd talked long about the importance of "pointless endeavors." He considers for a moment, "You were a good tutor, though." There were thoughts, images, memories. The smell of the wine caused a flash of rolling hills, of Parisian streets, of long conversations and mind altering substances. He was lost then, perhaps. He'd yet to discover his purpose, but then again what 20 something ever knew what they were doing. Freshly taught, he'd achieved the skills necessary to change the world, but had yet to fully understand what to do with them. He'd wanted power, he'd wanted to carve his name in the world so that it would never forget. . . but he had no purpose.
A wasted time lounging around with lost and byronic souls, embracing the deep human legacy. He'd counted few friends in his life, Lex Luthor, and those who he saw as friend had always taught him much. In some ways Marc Dahlmaine could be counted in the same breath as other legends and luminaries as the Tutor of an up and coming Lex Luthor. Indeed, Luthor rarely made distinction between friend and tutor. The lessons of Marc Dahlmaine were no less vital in developing the purpose of the Man of Tomorrow as The Immortal or the Demon and his Daughter, the Legendary Spirit or The Visionary Dr. Thaddeus Sivana among others.
Marc Dahlmaine had taught Luthor the value of the human legacy, although Marc would hardly know that. Lex had always set himself above humankind, separate, elite. As if he were something wholly different. Marc had taught him long ago that elitism did not mean inhumanity, in fact it meant appreciation for the loftiest achievements of the human race. Where the Demon had taught that Superiority meant Stewardship, Marc had taught Lex that there was a quality worth preserving, developing and indeed, treasuring in the human condition. Lex was never sure if Marc realized this or not, but in the end it didn't matter. Lex owed Marc a debt for that, and Lex Luthor always repaid his debts.
He continued "And as for Gotham. . . well as for any human being, most people don't know what they want. They don't know what they're ready for until someone with vision tells them. What has made me successful is knowing what they want before they do, and offering it to them. I sell dreams, Marc. I sell the future, and in selling the dream I shape the future. Gotham's ready for modernization, it's ready to embrace tomorrow. They just need it to be offered to them in the right way."
He shrugged as he said "Still, if you're not tired of the city. . . you've seen the Iceberg Lounge. What would you change if you could? What dream would you sell to the blighted and blinded people of Gotham City?"
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Gothamite
Marc Dahlmaine
A merchant of bottled amnesia for people thirsty to forget.
Registered On: Aug 2, 2015 23:59:57 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 36
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Post by Marc Dahlmaine on Aug 7, 2015 2:12:57 GMT -5
A change of pace he could appreciate. There was a different underlying hum to this city. That he could learn to adore. There was something raw about Gotham that was not quite polished like the city of Tomorrow. Even this nightclub seemed to be more than met the eye, even with it's themes and lovely women.
"We come from situations vastly different. I am country raised, yet my years of classic teachings under learned tutors has all but schooled them out of me. I come from dirt, and sweat, and fields of fruit. Yet no one but my mother, father, and dear sister would ever dream of reminding me of that, once seeing the dirty boy that refused to wear footwear."
He toyed with his wineglass, thinking of those idyllic years in France. And how different his years in University had been. And damn his sister, for being so outwardly joyful.
"And you have been nothing less than a good friend, as well as scholarly, Lex." Even the shortened version of his companion's name felt queer on his lips. He was used to conversing in another language, on another continent, and using the longer, Christian name of the now bald man. As they continued over a fine bottle of spirits, he had to shake his head, hair falling into his eyes.
"I disagree. Most do not know what they want. But those few that do know, are filled with purpose as soon as such an idea is taken to heart. Something that cannot even be ignored, as it flames in the chest, and in the mind, becoming an obsession, a want-no, a need so consuming that nothing but it can fill the void that once nourishment, rest, and interaction once filled. Obsession, perhaps, or even drive. I call it inspiration, and while so few are able to recognize and act upon it, those that do are clearly set above others, and the most worthy to know."
Returning the fine stemware to his lips, he made sure to savor each swallow of the wine, the glass of a fine quality, he noted. It was the little details that mattered in presentation. And while the Iceberg was presenting something he would not normally sample, the proprietor certainly had an eye for detail.
"It is a shame that some of the so-called inspired flame hot and bright, yet fade just as quickly without implementation. Planning and what to utilize and do with such an obsession is rare on this entire planet." Brushing the hair from his eyes, he deemed briefly he would need a haircut. No use in asking Luthor. He would do his own research in finding a skilled barber in this city. Part of the joy was the discovery.
Laughing heartily again as he reached to refill his glass and offer Luthor another healthy pour, Marc's hand never wavered. "You would do well to work for me, you know. If you seek to sell the intangible to those that aren't even aware that is what they need, imagine what you could do with a tangible product produced to alter minds and emotions, to strip away barriers and allow the masses to truly touch what they are in here." Tapping his chest, he nodded.
"What would I change? You do ask the questions of depth. So far I am entirely unqualified to answer that, as I know so little of Gotham herself. Other than peddling my own wares, and expanding the empire my parents and grandparents have granted me, I would need to spend much more time with her lifeblood to answer such a statement, Alexander."
While the exchange was both light and dense at the same moment he had to let his mind wander, thinking of their younger years as backpacking through his backyard had been several months of closeness with the esteemed man. He had a skill for improvisation and improvement he had seen in few people. Few that had been able to sustain such a passion for years upon years, and still hold themselves together, aging like a fine wine, instead of burning out so quickly. Those had been exquisite years of experimentation and exploration and he was fond to remember them with such a fine man.
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Deleted Member
Deleted
Registered On: Apr 25, 2024 22:00:12 GMT -5 ~
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Post by Deleted on Aug 9, 2015 5:29:48 GMT -5
"I spent some time in the country, my father, before he was thrown into ignonimity in the Suicide Slum had a business in a small town in the midwest. Fertilizer processing plant. . . " he laughed a bit at that. "It didn't last long. My father always had delusions of success, images in his own mind of striding the world like a giant. It's ironic, he was a brutal man, nasty, ruthless in his own way, but he never accepted failure well. He'd hold onto the trappings of influence and power even long after he was forgotten. He was, unfortunately, a man whose desire and pride outstripped his own talents. When he was betrayed and stripped of all he owned, he'd found no friends to help him."
Lex was in a sober mood. He almost never discussed his father. Frankly, he'd never really discussed the man with Marc in France. It was odd that he was bringing it up now. He discussed a bit of his childhood in France, but Lex Luthor was always a man who stared into the future, simply because the past was far too difficult to really debate or address.
"I never liked the country, I was isolated in the way that the exceptional always tend to be. Bullied by those assured of their own moral superiority, or those who just saw me as having "airs" or being "too smart". At least in the Suicide Slums when I was beaten and tormented, I wasn't given smug lectures as how it was a punishment for something, or how it was because I had it coming because of my father. The beatings I got in the Suicide Slum were from people who knew they were vicious, knew they were monsters. In the suicide slum I was told "We're beating you because we can." I appreciated the honesty, frankly. Perhaps the beatings were more severe there. I had them from everywhere. In the country, my father would discipline me. . . in the city, my father would simply strike me in rage. It made me, though. I had to make my own sanctuaries, and of course it's easier to convince the more cynical and cosmopolitan beasts of a city environment to admire intelligence. There were simply more places for me to ply my talents as a 7 year old in the Suicide Slums than as a child in the country."
He toyed with his glass for a moment himself. This was the thoughtful and quiet part of Lex's drinking. Drunk Lex Luthor tended towards a few basic archetypes, at times in succession, he'd alternate between grandiosity and brooding, quiet planning and planning to tear down the sun. Lex Luthor was often a Bipolar drinker, and this was the more depressed mode. Soon he'd be in good spirits again, and then they'd do something significant and major and stupid. Or brilliant. It was hard to tell the difference sometimes with Lex.
"Inspiration. . . I suppose that desperation and inspiration are part and parcel of one another. One sees the world as it is, sees the way that the world interacts with us, and some of us just have the stubbornness to want to push back against it. Gotham has its dark charms, but . . . you're right, of course. . . it's not what it could be. It's like my father, clinging to past glories long after the world has forgotten them. Holding onto affectations they can't afford for the purposes of maintaining the shred of an illusion. It needs people who can look forward. It needs innovators. It needs men like you, Marc."
"You should have your empire expanded. You've expanded the quality of my life significantly. . . you've been a friend to the friendless, you've been a scholar, a romantic. . . and yes, a scoundrel. And it's hard to get good wine in Gotham, and good food in Gotham. It's all old families and dead promises and it could do better. . . tonight we're going to grow your empire! No use complaining about the old, we'll make something new! " There it was, the mania that often came after those quiet introspective moments. He wasn't inebriated yet. . . but he was starting to get there. Marc would remember that quiet moonlit night in Bordeaux when in an empty field Lex Luthor drank four bottles of wine and then went into town and bought a dance studio. Marc would also remember the night that Lex Luthor drank the harder liquor and created the bomb. . . that wasn't as pleasant an experience.
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