Late Lunch [Open]

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She walked into the iceberg lounge, a large floppy black and white hat on top of her head, as she wore a bright summer dress paired with matching high heels.  Gotham currently sat in the late afternoon, she herself, had only woken up a few hours ago, enjoying sleeping with the warmth of the sun on her cheek.  The Iceberg usually picked up closer to the evening, so as she entered, she only noticed a few in its attendance.  Her purse slung over her elbow as she walked with grace up to the hostess, flashing a large kind smile as she spoke.  "Do you have a table for one?" she asked, as she noted the few security personals.  The Penguin had a valuable item in his hand that was truly underappreciated by him.  Selina knew it would find a much a better home with her, and so she decided to have a late lunch doing recon of the area.  It wouldn't be an easy task.  Oswald Cobblepot lathered himself in security, iron doors, and unbreakable locks.  Not only to protect from theft, but from the prying eyes of the law.  She knew what the man did behind close doors, and while their few encounters as she had been masked as Catwoman had never been quite pleasant, she had to admire the system he put in place.  

The hostess smiled back at her and led her to an empty table.  Selina gave her a friendly smile, taking off her hat and placing it on the table as she sat.  Her elbows came to the top of it and her fingers began pulling off her long gloves as she looked around the area.  The Penguin, like most rogues, had no idea of her identity.  Only a few, including Pamela Isley & Edward Nigma, knew her real name, though both knew better than to mention it in front of others.  Her back held a straight and elegant posture and she folded her gloves and laid them gently on the table.  She ordered a gin and tonic as the waiter handed her a menu.  She lifted the menu, pretending to scroll over each item, but rather, she noted the cameras and the direction the security personals went.  The only suspicion she would draw would be the fact that she was a beautiful woman eating alone.  

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Tapping the black marble flooring with his cane as he paced through the main entrance of the luxurious Iceberg Lounge, Ra’s blended well with the noir flooring with the only colour on his otherwise ebony suit coming from his blood red cravat. A sharp suit for a shaper man, whose avian eyes shot their vision from one end of the hall to the other, noticing a completely different interior to the one he entered upon his last visit to the lounge in the 1920s. Ninety years previously, the club was the height of polite society, allowing the wealthy to indulge their debauchery through poker and blackjack even during the reign of probation. The League never acted against the Clubs, as they allowed the Mafia bosses to congregate in one place, in public, thus making them easier to hit. And as it turned out, little has changed since his first visit, or so he noticed as he entered into the main section of the building, linking arms with Aria Lloyd in a strict traditional fashion.

When she had suggested meeting for dinner, he was open to the idea with him having a desire to eat fine food for the first time in weeks, so they had organised to meet up at Mr. Cobblepot’s Lounge for a meal. “I remember when patrons used to do the Charleston in this Club, how times change.” True, some music was playing, but it was far from the swinging tunes of the Jazz Age, and no one was dancing to the noise. Reservations had been booked for a table for two in the restaurant, not an easy task with people waiting for weeks before a table was open, however the drop of Aria’s name made a space quickly available for the couple. After the Hostess had returned from taking a Woman to her table, she took Ra’s and Aria over to their seats next to the young Girl’s table however his eyes were focused on the interior security measures that surrounded them.

For the average thief, they would find this fortress of pleasure to be nigh impregnable due to Oswald Cobblepot’s investment of state of the art cameras, detectors and the army of bodyguards he had positioned on every gambling table and in every corner. Mercenaries, hired thugs who would pose little trouble if it came to violence between them and the martial arts master. Just as he was about to make a comment about the change in times, he refrained himself due to the surrounding company, as a strange comment such as the one he was to make would be a fatal error, especially as the woman before him was no longer the ethereal form of the night, but the respectable democrat Miss Lloyd. A pair of menus were brought to them, though Ra’s sat wondering about how pointless it would be for her to eat anything, as any action would likely be for appearance sake only. “I must say, you look delightful today, Miss Lloyd. You wear Gotham high society well.” Smirking his distinctive grimace, he kept his voice down while speaking, to keep attention from them. She looked as comfortable here as she would have done in the Court of Versailles 200 years ago.

Even while he spoke to the woman across from him, his eyes would not sit still as he examined the individuals around them. Bankers, attorneys, the cream of the Gotham crop. As they laughed and ate, Ra’s watched them closely, recounting a few faces amongst them. An array of culinary delights awaited him in the menu, but first he signalled for the waiter. “I’m glad you chose for us to meet here, it’s always nice to see what entitled society has become in this modern day and age.” Of course his tone was sarcastic, though he wasn’t mocking her, focusing his words on those who sat around them.

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The Iceberg Lounge was one of the classiest places in town, Gotham's elite would gravitate there... the good and the bad unfortunately. When Leslie was younger she would spend many nights here after passing major exams to celebrate, also coming from a wealthy family she was somewhat a socialite in her day. But then Leslie broke the mold and began to actually care about and offer this city rather than caring about what the city could offer her like many others of her time. A nice diner in the late afternoon would do wonders today, it was kind of a way of Leslie treating herself for all the hard work she had been doing.

Leslie wore her finest black dress and also adorned with a dark purple shawl, looking quite classy Dr. Thompkins. Can't forget her mother's pearl earrings and necklace combo, it has been a while since she had traded in her scrubs for an evening gown, but Leslie was enjoying it. There she was in front of the night club, the scenery had changed quite drastically but it was still the same in a sense. Leslie exited the taxi and approached the double doors. Being a doctor and a long time resident of the city, you can get in almost anywhere.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Leslie Thompkins... table for one please?" The woman smiled. "Of course Dr. Thompkins, come right in!" The waitress then approached her and escorted the good doctor to her table. The table was next to one Aria Lloyd and her handsome guest. As Leslie began to sit down she then gave Aria a smile and a wave. Who is that man? Perhaps a European ambassador?

She then noticed at the other table another familiar face, one of Ms. Selina Kyle. Leslie had lent a helping hand and tried to guide the woman from her teenage years. She seen so much potential in Selina when she was a girl, but now she is a woman and has done good for herself.

The waitress then approached. "Would you like anything to drink miss?" Leslie glancing over their wine selection, making a decision on a whim. "Your finest red wine would be nice..." Giving the girl a smirk. "Bottle or a glass?" The waitress said with a chuckle. Leslie herself chuckling. "A glass for starters, but who knows I might need the bottle..." The waitress then nodded with a wink. "Coming right up..."

 Leslie then rose from her chair and made her way to Selina's table to say hello. She then arrived at the table and placed a hand on the chair next to the woman. "Well, hello Selina! How have you been? Doing well I see..."

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"Does it even still count as the same club?" Aria responds rhetorically. But then again, she often finds herself doing the same thing whenever she visits places that she was a long time ago. She can still reminisce about Paris a couple hundred years ago while visiting it today, for example.

The Iceberg is most certainly not whatever club occupied the same position so long ago - it's firmly modern except where it's being old on purpose, unlike truly historic locations where the decor has simply been allowed to remain old. But though she has such treasured memories of the past, she much prefers the present and the future. The past, after all, has happened so you might as well let it go and enjoy the advantages of the present while you attempt to shape the future.

While she has at times been a thief and assassin, she hardly notices or cares about whatever sort of security measures are in place here. Unless magical wards were used, which she doesn't sense here and are quite rare to find, she could waltz right in here at night and take almost anything or kill anyone she wanted without any trouble or difficulty at all. But fortunately for those who spend their life acquiring things, she's not really that interested in taking anything. Nor is she often driven to the point of murder. After all, she's a multi-millionaire with access to all the luxuries available in this day and age that she could want - she lives as large as she could wish to already and therefore the list of things that she wants but doesn't have yet is full of nothing but intangibles.

Taking her seat, she begins to peruse the menu. It certainly isn't pointless for her to eat - or at least she wouldn't say so. It's literally impossible for her to starve to death, but that doesn't mean that she doesn't get hungry or enjoy delicious food. But she glances up from the menu to smile at him for his compliment on her appearance. "As do you, Mr. Ducard," she returns his words, using his usual alias since they're in public and even with their voices quiet you never know who might be listening, "And I thought that you might appreciate my company and this opportunity to attempt to keep up with the times." Her tone is not sarcastic - instead it's joking. Because she prides herself on keeping up with the absolute latest advancements and trends, while he seems to hang onto the past with as much of an iron grip as anything else. Yes, she knows that he may not feel the need to let go when he's planning on destroying the cesspool that is modern life, but until he does so he might as well keep up to date with what the cesspool is wearing, listening to, and talking about.

"The Iceberg has become very trendy in recent years - the proprietor must be making a fortune off of it. And appears to be fond of rubbing it in your face - I believe that most of the metalwork in here is real," she comments, glancing idly around herself. Though she questions whether or not the decor helps or hurts business - it's nice, but so over the top! And rather eccentric in theme. Proof that perhaps it's not a good thing that modern materials give one the ability to decorate a place exactly how one imagines it - some people have a rather poor imaginations.

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All angle camera, she noted, as she folded her menu on the table, reaching into her purse to pull out her ruby red lipstick. She flipped open the small makeup mirror and slowly applied the bright paint to her plump lips, her eyes lidded as if she were intensely focused on the task rather than the cameras placements behind her. The little birdie had certainly kept his cage strongly locked. For her to even come here at night in disguised she would almost positively be caught on camera. Selina had the talent to smile at the camera’s but she preferred not getting caught.

“Over compensating for something, Oswald?” she said under her breath as she clipped the makeup mirror shut and placed it back in her purse. As the waiter arrived with her drink, she took a long sip, her painted lips leaving a perfect stain on the rim of the glass. She caught sight of a few more guests coming in, and it caused her thin eyebrow to arch upward in curiosity. She had chosen this time for the lack of attendance in the club, but it appeared others ate later as well. She caught sight of a familiar face from her past, and a mixture of emotions stirred in her stomach yet she masked it perfectly with a kind smile.

Leslie had helped her escape the life on the streets and the brutality of a pimp. She had been there to pick her up and seen her at her weakest moments. She would be indebted to this woman for the rest of her life. Yet, Selina did not go out of her way to see her. She would send an occasional email followed by an envelope of cash to help with her charitable causes, but speaking with her in person always made her feel extremely…visible.

Selina preferred the shadows of the night.

“Dr. Thompkins, I’ve been…splendid. Gotham always knows how to entertain a lady. How are you? How is the clinic doing?” she asked, purposefully not offering a seat.

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“It’s said that you can learn a lot about a man by those he keeps around him. Well the same can be said for the possessions he owns and how he flaunts them. With every glance I spot another feature intended to impress or impose, yet it manages to do neither.” One of the first lessons an Assassin learns is not how to kill, but how to observe, as through observation do we spot weaknesses which may be targeted. His feline-like eyes shot their precise gaze over all who sat around them, watching them eat and converse with one another, inspecting their gestures and clothing all in a matter of seconds. Not one person surrounding them was notably interesting in his eyes; especially not the two women behind him that he could see in the reflection of the knife he held in his hand.

A waiter quickly bounced up to their table with a smarmy smile which gave Ra’s a slight headache when looking at it, and all of a sudden he remembered why he preferred the solitary life. Before he could ask his first question, Ra’s had given the answer in a quick and snappish tone. “We’ll have a bottle of red wine, the oldest you have preferably.” In true fashion he made no effort to ask Aria wanted she wanted, assuming that she’d have what he was having. With a nod of approval, the waiter fled as suddenly as he appeared – at least he had the skill to realise when he wasn’t wanted. “No doubt you’ve heard of the terrible fate of Mr. Rogers by now, I heard he was killed on impact. I can only hope that his successor is not as arrogant.” Of course he spoke about one of the men on Dionisia’s list, an older political figure that wasn’t intimidated easily due to his past corrupt dealings with the Maroni family. It wasn’t difficult to plunge his car off a bridge with him in it but it was effort which could have been used on other matters

“Besides him, we’ve had no problems. I have one of my men dropping in on the final name tomorrow night, a married man who was caught in a compromising position with a lady of the night, an event which we also concocted. Men will quickly change their minds when their image is at stake. Two hundred years ago it was honour, now it’s their reputation.” Times change but the men don’t. The only reason anyone is dining here is because of the perceived reputation which comes from eating here. They are here because everyone else is, sheep in a flock, it is human nature after all. And like sheep, they require a shepherd to guide them, to tell them that none of this ‘high society’ matters, that it is all a lie which they tell themselves to justify the oppression that they force on those below them.

Bottle in one hand, glasses in the other, the waiter returned to the table and poured them their beverages, receiving no thanks from Ra’s as he did so. Taking one of the glasses in hand, he raised it to the light, swirling the deep crimson around in the glass before holding it out to his companion. “To order, Miss Lloyd.”