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Last Edit: May 16, 2011 8:51:08 GMT -5 by harlequin
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Post by dent on Mar 12, 2011 22:09:00 GMT -5
Gotham City West. Home to the high rises. Haven for money, power, and business. Location of the Wall Street sector of the metropolis. Tonight a gala was being held in a luxurious penthouse suit at the edge of the district. Spring was a little less then a week away, so Miss Veronica Vreeland had decided to host a get together for the social elite of the city. A gathering to show off the latest fashions, share the latest gossip, and to talk about all of the current events happening all over the world. The latest news centered around a mass prison riot at Black Gate Penitentiary. The gorgeous penthouse suite was built on the foundation of a two story platform with glass walls. Outside was a spacious balcony where crowds of people could literally chat and mingle. Inside were multiple bars, dining rooms, and lounges for everyone to make themselves comfortable. The furniture was modern and the lighting was setup by a resident Feng Shui expert. Technically it was still winter, but the weather outside said differently. The sky was clear this night, and the twilight was painted in picture blue. www.luxurylaunches.com/entry_images/0209/26/skyloft-penthouse.phpThe affluent of Gotham are a proud lot. Even with the news of multiple criminals escaping into society would not prevent them from hosting a charity ball in hopes to raise money for the animal and plant preservation societies on the East Coast of the country. Miss Vreeland had spared no expense on security for the evening. Yet, no matter how much money you pay for a service, there maybe someone out there who is willing to pay more, or knows the right buttons to push. The party is interrupted when the lighting and power flickers on and off for ten seconds. There are a few gasps and murmurs from the crowd as they wonder what is going on. Then it happens. DingThe conveyor bell chimes. When the wide elevator door opens, the main room to the penthouse suddenly becomes flooded with men dressed in bullet proof vests, camouflage pants, and black ski masks. There are roughly ten of them, and they are all armed with automatic weapons. They quickly cause a slight panic from those at the party. Those who quickly tried to pick up their cell phones to call the police hear nothing but busy tones. The men in ski masks quickly cover the party, four of them go out into the balcony to aim their weapons at those on the outside, while four others go into the back rooms and begin gathering everyone into the main foyer. One of the goons in a ski mask fires a stream of sub-machine gun bullets into the air which silences the crowd For a brief moment, not a sound could be heard. A pair of expensive dress shoes clattering against the wood flooring breaks the stillness. Out of the elevator steps a man known by everyone at the party. Adorning a one half white, one half black Gucci suit, the Gotham Rogue known as Two-Face enters the party. The scared portion of his face was filled with blue covered scabs, and a wave of white hair flamed from his scalp. The other side of his face was handsome and immaculate, the hair black and close cropped. One of Two-Face's hands slid casually into his pants pocket. The other hand fingered a large silver dollar passing it in between each knuckle with excellent dexterity and ease. "Ladies and Gentlemen. Boys and girls," Two-Face began in a gravely voice that projected through the room.. "Tonight we ask for just five minutes of your time. In case you haven't already noticed, you are about to be pilfered of any money and valuables you have in your possession. If you do not want to be harmed, all you have to do is cooperate with us. Now in a brief moment, one of the boys will be passing by with an open bag. Simply place your possessions in the bag and then drop to the floor with your hands behind your heads. There was one Monday Night Quarterback. There usually always is amongst the rich and famous. This one take the shape of a hot shot man with blond hair and an athletic build. "Go to hell Dent. If you think you're going to get aw---" BOOM!
The rich rebel did not have an opportunity to finish his sentence. Two-Face had pulled out a gun, and simply shot the man in cold blood. "I think I've made my point."The men in ski-masks began to quickly make their way through the room, most if not all of the guests began to comply. After all, it was only money.
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Post by Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy on Mar 12, 2011 23:37:24 GMT -5
Fashion? Gossip? That's certainly enough to bring Pamela Isley to a party. That it was a charity ball for, in part, plant preservation made her attendance practically mandatory. And Pamela has been having a wonderful time working the crowd: meeting everyone she hasn't met yet, and renewing her acquaintanceship with everyone else. And of course, it being a spring-themed party, she's chosen something small, revealing, and red to wear that's a bit light even for the pleasant weather. Therefore, she keeps herself inside, and is in one of the back rooms when the power starts flickering.
But she isn't too alarmed until the distinct sound of gunfire can be heard out in the main area. That causes a ripple of panic among the other people in the room with her, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out what's going on: a party full of wealthy people, and someone brought a gun to it? Either someone is getting killed by a hitman or everyone's getting robbed. And when a man with a gun orders all of them to gather in the foyer, she knows it's the latter. Which means that she's going to have to give up her favorite purse. Wonderful.
Because she happened to be in one of the last rooms to be emptied, she's also one of the last people to be escorted into the foyer - just in time to see the stupid would-be hero get shot. Naturally, that stuns most of the guests into silence, which is why it's all too easy to hear Pamela's voice saying, "Of course, it would be him." Well... this is awkward. At least if she's going to be randomly robbed at gunpoint by her ex, he's chosen a moment when she looks absolutely stunning.
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Last Edit: Mar 13, 2011 1:06:43 GMT -5 by harlequin
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Post by dent on Mar 13, 2011 0:23:22 GMT -5
Two-Face was never one who enjoyed a bluff. Send the message clear and straight from the beginning. Everything goes smoother that way. Fear means that they will listen. This applied in the court room in addition to room control for a high society robbery.
A puddle of dark crimson begins to stain the white tile flooring of the suite. Two-Face had always been a savant when it came to many things. Using a pistol with deadly accuracy happened to be one of those talents. He blew the smoke away from the barrel of the pistol just as the last individual was brought into the cavernous main hall. Everyone was still in shock after the bullet being fired.
The room when so quiet that a pin trip could have been substituted for an anvil.
"Of course, it would be him."
Two-Face was in the process of scanning the room and looking into the frightened faces of many of the patrons when he heard someone behind him say something.
He paused. Then ceased focusing on the terrified faces. It was a intonation he had not heard in a long time. Frankly, a sound he never expected to hear again. At first he almost did not recognize it, but the tone and the pitch was like a trigger to releasing a subliminal message from somewhere in his mind.
"Wait a minute...I know that voice..."
Two-Face turned his head slowly so that he was looking over his shoulder.
"Boss what is it?" One of his men asked.
"GET Back to WORK!" Two-Face snarled, the volume of the command made almost all of the hostages shriek back a step or two.
Turning around, he walked over to where she was standing. The bulging eye on the left side of his scared face narrowing in anger. One of his goons approached Poison Ivy with a bag in tow just about to ask her to hand over her purse. Two-Face grabbed the mook by the collar and tossed him aside like a ragdoll.
"Well if it isn't Doctor Isley wearing her little red dress," Two-Face began, dangling the pistol freely at his side. "pretending to be Miss sweet and adorable. I must admit."
His tone condescending in nature.
"I'm surprised to see you here. This could turn out to be good night for me and a bad night for you, depending if ye play your cards right."
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Post by Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy on Mar 13, 2011 1:48:45 GMT -5
How should she be feeling right now? Afraid? Embarrassed? But the problem with anything she should be feeling is that that it's being overwhelmed by the sheer ludicrousness of the situation. Especially when her innocent comment apparently prompts him to march right over to her. All the way into pheromone range, even. Fortunately, she's able to suppress actual laughter, but there's still amusement in her eyes as he insults her. Which she pays absolutely no heed to: she looks amazing and she knows it.
It really has been a long time since she's seen him. Both of them have changed a lot since then - though at least she looks the same on the surface. Better, in fact, if her pheromones are doing their job. And even on top of that, she's even more recently been cultivating a certain sense of self-confidence that she didn't have before - radiates it, even, despite the fact that it would be extremely difficult for her to defend herself with so many other people around.
He's is quite a different person than the one she remembers as well. Half of him, anyway. And she doesn't seem at all bothered by the half that changed: she knows very well that real ugliness isn't physical, as much as she prides herself on her own appearance. And it's all too easy for her to simply complete the face in her mind's eye.
"Well, if it isn't Harvey Dent: Gotham's own fallen angel," she counters, "What are you going to do? Shoot me for breaking your heart?"
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Last Edit: Mar 13, 2011 8:39:04 GMT -5 by harlequin
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Post by dent on Mar 13, 2011 8:38:22 GMT -5
Like most men, that thought had entered into his mind shortly after the romantic fall out with Pamela Isley. He had been close to proposing to Pamela, something he had even admitted to Bruce Wayne when they were still friends. But back then, after fighting though the nights of sleepless insanity, Harvey Dent was able to set aside all of the negative emotions toward her and begin to reflect on the entire picture as a whole, this was the truth he had come up with.
Pamela has the right to feel anyway she wants, for whatever reason. She was not obligated to reciprocate his feelings, nor was that something he could have forced from her. Dent has his inclinations, theories, and thoughts as to her reasons for ending everything as abruptly and in the manner that she did -- he was never given that reason..and it was something he would not try and coerce from her. She broke his heart. To be fair, he had done the same thing to other women. "Breaking his heart" was not a good enough reason to kill someone, in this day and age at least.
"No."
Two-Face replied bluntly. Shouldering the Glock 17 back into it's holster.
"That would be quite juvenile."
Turning his back, he took a few steps away from her. He did a quick moment to analyze how everything was going in the room. All of the guests appeared to be focusing in on their little conversation. Meanwhile, the robbers made their way around the foyer, collecting items with no problems. The goon that he had thrown aside, had composed himself and now worked his corner of the room.
The lips from his disfigured side curled upwards, the cheek muscles being used to form a sneer. Two-Face made a mental note of Pamela's confidence and ability to remain her arrogant self in this situation, coming to no surprise to him.
Two-Face arched his neck back to show Isley that half smile. He walked back to her. Still rolling the coin in between his fingers. Grabbing her by the arm, Two-Face walked her over to one of glass walls that served as a barrier in sound and touch only from the skyline of the city.
Then, in a sudden movement Two-Face clenched the neck of Poison Ivy with his free hand. With ease, he proceeded to hoist her from the ground, dangling her two feet from the ground....He held her in the air as if he was holding a piece of paper up to the light so he could read it better.
The grip he had on her throat was firm, but not tight. She was still able to breath uncomfortably.
"I'm more inclined to crush your wind pipe not in retaliation to what you did to me," He squeezed a little tighter, making it so that she was only able to respond in short grasps. "But because you are a conniving witch."
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Post by Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy on Mar 13, 2011 13:45:06 GMT -5
When Two Face turns his back, a small smirk comes to Pamela's face. She knew that would do the trick. It would be so petty of him to hold that big of a grudge against her for that long - not at all like the Harvey Dent she knew.
And it's only now that she notices how much attention they're getting. Which is a very troubling problem because she knows a lot of these people. In an effort to do a bit of damage control, she glances at the nearest group of them and explains, "It was before." The look of understanding on a few faces is comforting; at least she'll be able to explain away all of this later.
When she looks back, he's looking at her again, but the scarred side of his face is so difficult to read that she's uncertain what to make of that look. So it takes her by complete surprise when he grabs her arm and forces her against a glass wall. And being hoisted up by the neck is more than enough to cause her to drop her purse and instead focus on grabbing the hand holding her neck in an effort to help him not put too much strain on that very important part of her body. However, keeping a cool head, she lets go with one hand just long enough to dig into her palm with her own nails before grabbing hold again.
One of the bigger inconveniences that she's had to deal with since her run-in with Dr. Woodrue is that her whole body has become toxic to the touch. Though fortunately, her skin, sweat, saliva, and pretty much every other part of her on the surface is only mildly so; it would take prolonged contact for her to hurt anyone. Her blood, on the other hand, is an entirely different story. The stuff is an outright lethal mixture of toxins both normal and unique. Though fortunately for Two Face, the effects of the small amount oozing from the cuts in her palm isn't enough to kill quickly. And it had occurred to Pamela very early on that people bleed on accident all the time, so she's taken the precaution of making an antidote to herself and carrying it at all times.
And also fortunately for Two Face, she has to feel some pity for using her blood on someone; she did, after all, experience the effects of it herself when it was first inflicted upon her. Fatigue, weakness, dizziness, unconciousness... That and that she has no hard feelings for him at least will save him from this mistake.
In the few moments it will take for him to start feeling it, she gasps out, "I... am not... a witch!" Don't be ridiculous, she's much too pretty for that! Conniving, though... She'll have to give him that one. Her biggest problem will be to figure out how to explain what will happen next to anyone.
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Post by dent on Mar 13, 2011 19:03:10 GMT -5
The contents of Poison Ivy's purse scatter on the floor when she drops it to the ground. It annoyed Two-Face that she was still trying to save her social reputation. Somewhere in his mind he had a thought about how shallow this woman could be. It didn't matter to Harvey Dent either way. He had grown up in the 'projects,' made something out of himself from nothing. In his eyes, people who dined on caviar were no better then those who lived off can soup.
Instinctively, Isley reached her hands up to his the moment he began to clench her throat. The size of her hands resembled a little girl reaching up to hold the hand of her fathers, only to find his hand engulfing hers. Two-Face found it odd that she let go of his grasp to dig her nails into her palm, drawing blood only to smear it onto him seconds later.
"I...am...not...a witch!"
It was Two-Face's turn to become amused. He let out a sarcastic scoff before responding.
"Oh? So says the little girl who enjoys mixing chemicals in a cauldron to feed her baby plants."
Two-Face raised the red-head even higher off the ground. Then with a flick of his wrist, he slammed her head against the reinforced glass wall. The force of the blow was enough to send vibrations strong enough to made the glass move like waves for a brief period. It was something he did not do with all of his strength. He had intended to daze her, make her dizzy, or to feel temporary numb. At worst it would have knocked her unconscious depending on how fragile her constitution is.
The attack made a loud THUD resonate through the foyer, drawing everyone's attention, even the other robbers who were collecting the items from the guests of the party. There was a large inhale of concern coming from the collection of the crowd.
"Ever since becoming Two-Face I've had this fascination with the number two. Seeing as how I have already killed ONE person tonight, it would be so unlike me not to leave a second corpse."
Two-Face smiled as he rolled the Silver Dollar onto the tip of his thumb nail.
"I'll tell you what Pamela. Let's place your life in the hands of fate. Heads you live. Tails you die. What. Do. You. Say?"
His voice low and gravely. Every syllable he reflected sounded like a low growl.
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Post by Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy on Mar 13, 2011 19:34:56 GMT -5
It's easy enough to tell just by looking at her that Pamela isn't a particularly strong woman. But one thing she isn't is fragile - her condition has left her immune to nearly all illness, so her body is as prepared as it can be to such assaults to her system. Nevertheless, the sudden blow to her head stuns her and she abruptly finds it difficult to think properly. Struggling hard to maintain her focus, she listens carefully to what he says and has a very odd reaction to it: she smiles.
"Three," she manages weakly, her voice barely audible, some will for self-preservation forcing the necessary words out of her mouth, "Without the... antidote... you'll die..." And there's no way on earth that he'll find it where she keeps it in time without her. And that's all that she has to say to his threat - her thought process right now is just too hazy for more talk, and her ability to act beyond struggling to breathe is quite limited at the moment.
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Last Edit: Mar 13, 2011 21:14:57 GMT -5 by harlequin
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Post by dent on Mar 13, 2011 20:02:42 GMT -5
"Three?" Two-Face asked with a suspicious look, "What are you prattling about?"
His first thought was that it was a lie. A simple use of doubt in attempts to save her own skin. But then it hit him, a wave of dizziness followed by blurred vision.
He then realized what was exactly caused him to experience faintness and dizziness.
"The blood..." He watched some of her life source trickle down his knuckles.
The good and the bad eye blinked, helping him to regain ailment of his senses. Alright. Maybe she wasn't lying. Like a magician, he made the silver dollar disappear. He realized that choking the life out of her would not help the situation, even thought it would make him feel really really really good.
Two-Face softened his grip, making it easier for her to breath and allowing circulation to flow back into her brain. More importantly, this empowered her to be able to speak without having to search for air. Isley was an educated woman, meaning she would be able to put more then two sentences together in a single phrase if she wanted to.
Still holding his ex-lover in the air, Two-Face suddenly pulled her to him. So that they were now looking eye to eye. She could almost feel the deformities on the left side of his face, that is how close they were. The quickness of this action resembled the stop and go motion on a roller coaster just after the exhilarating ride ends.
Isley was not one to lie. Especially when her life was on the line. From what he could recall, she was always prepared in any type of situation as well. Meaning it was not totally out of the realm of thought that she could be carrying some type of poison on her at all times. With the chaos Gotham City had been throw into over the years, being a defenseless woman making a living here could be suicide.
Another wave of dizziness washed over him. This one stronger then before because in addition to being light headed, he all of a sudden had to take a deep breath to regain composure.
"The Antidote. NOW!" Two-Face flashed in a wave of anger. "In case yer keeping track...this is not a request. It is a command."
Whether or not Poison Ivy realized it or not. But her life laid in the balance of working with Two-Face as well. If she did not provide him with the antidote soon, he would not hesitate to strangler to the death....or hit her with a truck.
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Post by Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy on Mar 13, 2011 21:54:55 GMT -5
Pamela's smile increases when she sees his eyes lose focus just slightly. Bit by bit her own blood will prove her words. And will avenge her death, if he's stupid enough to kill her. But no, her words seem to have done the trick, though when he loosens his grip and pulls her close at first her only answer if a few ragged but deep breaths. Her head pounding from his rough handling, she has to force her thoughts into coherency; she knows that she may very well not have saved her own life yet, and doesn't want to die even if she could do so knowing that she'd be taking her killer with her.
The sudden flash of anger causes her to flinch, but despite the fact that she can partway sympathize with his situation and doesn't really want to have to explain to anyone exactly how she killed him if she lives and he dies, there's one minor issue that she has with meeting his demand: "I need to know that you won't kill me after I do," she replies quietly but almost echoing his demanding tone, a suspicious look on her face, "If I'm going to die, I'm taking you with me."
He has, very quickly, given her an excellent lesson on just how different he is than the man she remembers and she doesn't trust this new form of him. And she's not about to surrender the one thing that seems to be keeping him from killing her without being sure that it will grant her safe passage out of the situation.
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Post by dent on Mar 13, 2011 22:27:26 GMT -5
Pamela Isley is a strong woman. Harvey had to admit that. If things continued the way they were going, Two-Face's first encounter with Poison Ivy since his accident would end in a stalemate. He paused to think about the situation at hand. Killing her would be pointless because that would ultimately lead to his own death. The question was, did he really want to kill her? The answer to that, was yes AND no. That's why he needed that damn coin.
He suddenly realized that everyone still had their eyes focused on them. Some of the patrons even began to stand up from their cowering in order to get a better view of the exchange. Looking to his left and right, Two-Face yelled..
"What is everyone looking at?! Down on the floor, all of you!" Two-Face drew his pistol from the holster and fired two shots into the air.
BLAM! BLAM!
Women began to scream as they cowered, the men followed suit. The two shots from his pistol did their job. All of the guests at Vreeland's social outing dropped to the floor once again, covering their heads.
"Get back to work you idiots! Make sure none of these monkeys look up from the ground. I still have an inkling to kill someone tonight, and I would not hesitate to plug one of you. "
Two-Face's order automatically got a response. The hired mercenaries pointed their guns back on the crowd and the bag handlers went back to finishing their collecting.
He lowered her to the ground gently. His fingers let go off her throat, but just after letting go, his fingers still hovered over her neck. The fingers were shaking as if he was still contemplating chocking the life out of her.
The muscles in his arms relaxed, and then he finally pulled his grasp away from her. He had meant what he said earlier, he would not kill her for breaking his heart in a terrible fashion a few years ago. The truth was is that he respected her intelligence and resiliency, but still despised her manipulate nature.
The fatigue was beginning to set in the form of him closing his eyes for two seconds followed by a deep swallow.
"Alright," Two-Face began in that low raspy voice. "You have my word. I'll play nice the rest of the night as long as you give me the antidote."
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Post by Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy on Mar 13, 2011 23:30:34 GMT -5
Unable to do anything much besides wait to see how he'll react, Pamela watches dispassionately as he brings the crowd back under control, but looks pleased when he finally puts her down. Once the weight is off of her neck, she lets go with her hands, clenching the one that she cut into a fist just to make sure she doesn't accidentally drip any blood onto the floor. She eyes him suspiciously throughout the entirety of his slow movements of letting her go, her only movement to tilt her head this way and rubbing her neck with her free hand to ease the pain of having been held by it for so long.
"Your word..." she says slowly to herself with a small frown, sounding somewhat displeased. Clearly she's uncertain just how much trust she can put into that, but after a moment she bends over and starts fishing around among the spilled contents of her purse with her free hand. Finding what she's looking for, she picks up what looks like a tube of mascara. But she immediately starts unscrewing the wrong end of it, and when the cap is removed a tiny plastic bottle full of a foggy, reddish- brown liquid falls into her hand. Holding it out, she comments, "You have my word that this will cure you and not make it worse." If he's going to expect her to accept something from him based completely on trust, she's going to explicitly point out that he has to do the same.
She doesn't hate Harvey Dent - never has in fact. She just... never cared for him enough. And the more time passes the more apparent it is that she'll never care for a man enough. She's broken many, many hearts and she'll no doubt do it again; the only thing that makes Harvey different is that the rest didn't join the ranks of the rogues and aren't all that big of a danger to her life. Not that she was excessively concerned for her life at any point during this - she's acquired enough arrogance to assume that she'll figure a way out of pretty much any sticky situation unless it turns really bad.
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Post by dent on Mar 14, 2011 8:07:07 GMT -5
"Your word...."
His nostrils flare like a dragon, and every body part from his lungs up are still seething. The relaxation from the hands and arm had not reached his facial muscles quite yet
Pamela fishes through her personal items and pulls out the mascara, twisting the wrong end of the tube reveals the reddish liquid. She holds it out to him.
"You have my word that this will cure you and not make it worse."
Two-Face slowly nods. Like a faucet turning off water from a sink, the nodding seems to cease his seething. The look on his face is still an intense one though. There were still churning of anger still welling somewhere inside his body. If you ask any normal person, it takes at least a few minutes before they fully calm down after losing control of their emotions.
His eyes look down to the scattered contents of her purse, then slowly back up to her. Still being perceptive of her every movement, Two-Face bends over and begins collecting her personal items and placing them back into the purse.
He then stands up and offers the purse in exchange for the antidote, handing over to her while he takes the vial of red liquid. There was movement all across the foyer. The mercenaries were still pointing their guns at the patrons, thus keeping most of their heads down, and the bag handlers were barking orders so their voices dominated much of the room.
Harvey Dent was aware of her bleeding hand. There happened to be a waitress with her head down near them. He reached over, and lifted her up, and asked rather abrasively.
"Where is the first aid kit?"
The waitress fearfully pointed to the bar, before being dropped to the floor like a bag of rice. Putting the anti-toxin in a jacket pocket, Two-Face forcefully grabs a hold of Pamela's free wrist and brings her toward the bar.
-If she resists, he forces and drags her. -If she comes along with him either willingly or hesitantly, Two-Face moves at a quick pace, tugging and pulling at her arm with strength that she is not used to.
Two-Face spots a stool at the bar. Letting go of Pamela's wrists he asks her to..
"Sit."
Reaching over the counter, he pulls out small white box with large red cross on the front of it. Opening the container, reveals a decent supply of first aid items. Surprisingly, and despite having large hands, Isley will notice that Harvey has decent dexterity for someone his size. He places a gauze roll in front of her.
"Squeeze and hold."
Harvey then begins looking for medical tape and a band-aid the size of her palm.
No doubt she has some sort of suspicions, hesitancy, surprise, shock, or any type of feeling that is not common. In response he states..
"I said I'd play nice. So I'm playing nice."
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Post by Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy on Mar 14, 2011 13:39:34 GMT -5
After retrieving the little bottle, Pamela waits patiently as Two Face gathers the rest of her belongings for her, and easily makes the trade without saying a word. But when he asks about the first aid kit and starts pulling her over there, she's a bit surprised. Nevertheless, she doesn't resist if only because she knows that she's no match for his strength - she certainly wouldn't consider being pulled around as 'playing nice', but as her main worry is over actually being hurt she doesn't raise any objections.
Instead she sits when instructed to, and easily makes use of the gauze he hands over - her self-inflicted cuts aren't actually that bad and she'll heal quickly, but keeping the blood contained is definitely an important issue. Despite giving her a very potent bargaining chip in this situation, being deadly poisonous is not especially pleasant.
"You'll probably want to use one of those wipes on your hand, and then rise it off with a lot of water," she idly notes as she works with the gauze. Though the types of wipes you find in a first aid kit are generally meant to kill bacteria, they'd also do a decent job of cleaning off most of what wasn't absorbed and probably prevent Two Face from poisoning anyone else by accident. Probably. Sufficeth to say, her blood is not something to mess around with - if she'd been able to come up with another option in that moment then she'd have probably taken it, but another thing that she doesn't mess around with is threats to her life.
A few moments later she adds, "I didn't expect to run into you again, and if I did I wouldn't have imagined that I'd have to bargain for my life with you in front of my friends. You've changed a lot, Harvey."
The issue of a lot of people listening in on their conversation is very much on her mind. How in the world was she to explain what was being said? Then again, information about her... condition is known by another criminal, who left evidence of it out for anyone from the police to Batman to find, and now there's an entire crowd of people who are no doubt scratching their heads over what just happened. Perhaps the ship has sailed on that little secret. She'll be forever labeled a freak... Then again, a part of her wonders just how hard it would be for her to convince everyone that the toxicity of her blood is no big deal. It's not like she chose for it to happen, after all.
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Post by dent on Mar 15, 2011 18:31:00 GMT -5
When she suggested that he used a alcohol swap to remove the blood from his hand, Two-Face looked up and stared straight ahead of him. He had this sudden urge to throw his fist through a mirror. It is difficult to listen to a suggestion from an ex-girlfriend, especially one that you're not particullarily fond of. Harvey managed to show restraint through the process of visualizing. Visualizing a large freight truck….
“I’ll get to it when I get to it,” Two-Face said with gritted teeth and one deep breath, “Let’s finish helping you first.”
Two-Face provided her with a large band-aid. He placed it in front of her at the bar.
"I didn't expect to run into you again, and if I did I wouldn't have imagined that I'd have to bargain for my life with you in front of my friends. You've changed a lot, Harvey."
“Getting half yer face burned with acid will do that ye,” he began unscrewing the bottom vial of the antidote. “Don’t forget these are my friends too.” He took a drink of the anti-toxin. The liquid was thick and rich. Not exactly the best tasting, but medicine rarely is. “As for making yer bargain for yer life, what did she expect from our history, for me to bring exotic chocolates and roses?”
Harvey still looked straight ahead when he responded. So all she could see was his disfigured face smiling at the end of his comment.
His disfigured eyes looked to the right where she was sitting. She was worried about what the others were thinking about her at this very moment. The conversation she was having with a dangerous criminal of Gotham.
“I know what yer thinking Pamela. Yer thinking about how this is going to effect yer reputation, and it’s making ye anxious.”
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