Hello Darkness My Old Friend (Marc)

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Two fingers of scotch, that’s all….and then she would go home.

Having turned twenty-one in Europe, the date wasn’t exactly as significate as it would have been in the states. However, it didn’t really bother her much at the time, or even now. At the time she had been living her dreams and pursing her passions, with little time to go wild. Even before that she had been working hard alongside her brother in order to achieve the status she held now. The brunette had passed this bar many times, almost every day on her way home from work at the Opera House. On the outside, it was rather homely and on the inside it didn’t get much better. Still, as she walked along the East End, revisiting the side of the city where she grew up. It was a bit of a shock if anything, not to mention a literal trip down memory lane.

Laverne had entered the bar while it was still light and planned on leaving during the daylight as well. Her older brother expected her to be home when he got off of work so that they could go out to the grocery store and get a few basic things they needed around the house as well as get a few ingredients to make her famous tiramisu that both siblings had been craving.

As she pushed open the door and took in the scene before her the bar was not particularly crowded, but rather the opposite. She smiled pleasantly at the group who had looked up upon her entrance and then started toward the bar. Sliding into a stool herself, she sat up straight and adjusted her posture before turning her warm smile toward the bartender. After ordering her scotch on the rocks, it didn’t take long before she was served. The bartender watched her every movement, making her feel somewhat uncomfortable as she sipped her drink.

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He'd taken to this and that in Gotham. After popping in to many an establishment to talk and chat, he'd been more than welcome to moonlight here considering one of their regular bartenders had taken a turn for the worse at the docks. Shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow he hefted a large tray of varied glassware as he started to put it away in it's respective homes behind the bar in the respective nooks and crannies.

It was still empty in the bar, more empty stools than patrons. As he went to walk around Sal the older man who knew the bar well, he elbowed him as he continued to gawk at the woman sitting at the bar. Drinking....scotch it looked like. He had to blink a time or two. He knew of very few women that enjoyed the strong drink. So few he could count them on one hand, on as many fingers less his thumb. So after he finished his task at hand he removed the white apron around his waist and tossed it into the bin. His own glass was upturned as he grabbed another bottle of amber colored liquid to fill his glass with, and offer the brunette a refill.

"My treat. You aren't a regular here at the Deck I noticed." He wasn't either but a conversation starter was a conversation starter. As was undeniable European look to to the tall man. He was not from Gotham, it seemed to scream. It was in how he carried himself, how he walked. Down to the haircut, the style of his oxford, his slacks, and his shoes. Marc Dahlmaine was a man of means, even if he was working in one of the seedier bars this side of the Atlantic.

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Maybe two more....

She almost felt guilty indulging in the drink, knowing that there were more to follow now that she had returned to Gotham. Having turned twenty-one overseas, the young woman hadn’t experienced the typical traditions and rite of passage that one did once they came of age. Now that she had returned to her hometown it was a bit of a culture shock. As the rising star sipped on her scotch she closed her eyes momentarily as if to take everything in.

So far her experiences had been very pleasant since her return. It was hard to see evil in a city she loved and it was almost as if the danger of Gotham had fled back when she had – or maybe they were still being hidden from her. Things were sailing smooth despite a few flares in her temper from time to time. IT was refreshing to reunite with her friends and older brother, as well as make a call to her sisters that lasted longer than ten minutes and didn’t cost a thing.

The brunette barely noticed as a man offered her a refill. Even though she had told herself she would only have one, she couldn’t resist his generosity. Verne cracked a smile and nodded, picking up on his accent immediately. “Thank you.” She replied. “No, I’m only recently back in town. I spent the last few years in Europe so this is actually the first American bar I have ever been in.” The young woman paused for a moment only to judge if the question was rude before continuing as politely as she could. “I am sure you get this a lot, and I hope I am not offending you, but I couldn’t help but notice your accent.”

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As she took the glass he fixed a discerning eye on her. She looked familiar. And considering he himself had been in Europe the past few years as well, he couldn't exactly put his finger on who she reminded him of.

Pouring himself a glass he swirled it before taking a sip, enjoying watching her relish the liquor. He had seemed to have a bit of luck in finding women who preferred better drinks than those horrible sugary mixed concoctions as of late. And for this, he was thanking Lady Luck. "Gotham is something else I have learned so far." Pouring another healthy swig for himself he walked around the bar and sat beside her. Running a hand through his once again overgrown locks he smirked.

"You are correct. France, to be exact. A small village outside Paris." He extended his hand to her. "I am Marc. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." She looked vaguely like one of his Italian friends, but she was clearly American. Was it a distant relative that carried the familiar blood? Perhaps the would find out later through their night.