Branching Out [Livewire]

[Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy]

Though she can be so easily mistaken for being a sociable person, in reality Poison Ivy could go for years without seeing another human being (if she still counts as one herself) without missing them at all. Well, except for Harley, perhaps, but the clown girl tends to be the only exception to all of the rules. But the reason for her frequent retreats from her lab to the Iceberg has nothing to do with a need for company, but a need to occasionally get her mind off of her work. And if she's going to do that she might as well do something productive while she's at it, and catching up with the latest gossip and making connections with the other criminals and rogues of Gotham is certainly useful.

Something she's been doing so frequently recently that she doesn't need to do anything more than smile at the man in charge of the back door to gain admission to that section of the lounge reserved for people that are better kept separate from the general public so that the former don't harm the latter and the latter don't find out that the former are welcome at this establishment. Of course it does help that she's green and not easily mistaken for anyone else, but even if she weren't they'd know her face without any questions being asked. In fact, the moment that she's seated in a booth inside, she's also given her normal drink - a clear indication that they'd gotten it ready even as she arrived and only needed to know where she'd sit to give it to her. Since it's still early in the afternoon, it's a rather delightful herbal tea.

Picking up the drink, before she thinks about what else she might like to eat while she's here she finds herself skimming the crowd. It's always a who's who of Gotham's criminal underbelly in here, at least among those who aren't so far into disfavor with Oswald that they can't expect his hospitality. However, even among such a group the majority tend to not be very important to her. It's not a matter of how prominent they are, it's a matter of exactly what sort of crime they're into. Those whose deal in chemicals, botanicals, and the like are of interest, as are those who smuggle such things. And of course the other rogues are worth noting, along with the heads of the city's major crime families, because those are the people whose actions can cause major change to the city. Changes that she can take advantage of if she gets enough warning.

Though as she looks over those present, she doesn't immediately see anyone very interesting. Perhaps she'll end up having a quiet drink then? Not something she particularly minds, actually, though quite frequently people like to take advantage of the fact that she's around and doesn't look busy.

[Deleted]

Gotham City's newest radio shock jock-- the electrifying Leslie Willis-- had been in town several weeks. Though she'd settled in comfortably on the airwaves, she wasn't experiencing much joy outside of work.  Her on-air shift began at five in the morning, wrapping up at ten.  She was typically home by noon, banishing herself to the couch.  It was there that she'd eat a bowl of ramen while watching daytime garbage like Dr. Phil and The Price Is Right.  Eventually she'd pull out her laptop to play some video games.  She was sick of spending her afternoons rotting in front of the TV.  She needed to find something to do... Something that would scratch her itch for a little excitement, a little mischief.    

Leslie thought about a comment she'd overheard in the elevator.  A pair of stuffed shirts from the newsroom voiced their dissatisfaction over their Friday night spent at the Iceberg Lounge.  "I know you think it's the hottest spot in town... and I know they're not in your face about it, but it seems to me like that place is crawling with gangsters and hoodlums.  I just don't feel safe associating with Gotham's criminal underbelly."  She could barely hide her enthusiasm upon recalling that remark.  "Hotspot for Gotham's criminal underbelly?  Sounds like my kinda place!  ...But what's a girl to wear?"  She'd made up her mind.  She could play The Sims anytime.  She could watch Judge Judy whenever.  She was going to see what all the fuss was about.  Today she was going to treat herself to a three martini lunch! Today she was going to crash the party at the Iceberg Lounge.   

The blue haired spitfire strolled over to her closet and admired the impressive collection of garments that hung inside.  Though she typically chose to wear jeans and a concert tee, she enjoyed dressing to the nines when she went out on the town.  Tooday "to the nines" meant a midnight black Oscar De La Renta dress that featured silver and ice blue glass beads arranged in floral pattern.  So she peeled out of the clothes she'd worn to work and quickly slipped into the dazzling dress.  "Spectacular!" she said once as she admired herself in the mirror.  Not one to consider it worthwhile to endure the pain of foo foo footwear, Leslie strapped on her army boots and declared herself ready to go.

A short cab ride later, Leslie found herself at the Iceberg Lounge.  "Nice!" she said, unable to hide her enthusiasm about potentially rubbing elbows in the swankiest joint Gotham had to offer.  "Nice!" she repeated as she spotted a trio of ridiculously sexy gentlemen-- were these guys models?-- eying her from across the room.  If she played her cards right, she thought a hookup with one of those handsome devils could be the way she capped off her midday adventure.  Of course she wasn't going to settle for the first guy (or gal) she saw when she walked through the door.  If that kind of eye candy was to be found among the masses, who knew what might lie on the other side of the velvet ropes!?!

Sucking in a deep breath, she again spoke to herself.  "I'm gonna need a drink!"  Then she bee-lined towards the bar to see about purchasing that first martini. 

 

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Outfit: Livewire is wearing this.

[Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy]

Back during one of her first few visits to the lounge, Poison Ivy had made sure that she 'happened' to go off on a bit of a rant about herbal teas while talking to Oswald. The man hadn't appeared to be especially entertained, but he got the message: she's now only served those of the highest quality. Organic, of course, and often imported. Not because she's silly enough to think of a drink as being more exotic if it was made in some far-away place, but because she can literally taste the difference in the tea if the plants it was made from were treated well or not. Which generally means that the best teas to her palette are those made from plants grown using more traditional methods instead of grown in some heartless factory farm.

Of course the best possible herbal teas in the world are those grown from plants raised by herself. But it would be rude of her to come here with an outside drink so she'll endure a somewhat sub-par herbal tea if it's the best that Oswald can provide. And she'll pay out the nose for it - or at least she's sure that she is. She's never paid much attention to her drink bill because it's easy enough for her to obtain money that it doesn't really matter to her what the cost is as long as the tea is delicious and the cost is at least low enough that it's money she wouldn't miss. And she's not so greedy about her money that she'd easily miss any amount below four figures or so, depending on just how quickly it disappears.

Taking another sip, since nobody seems to be clamoring for her attention (which is at once slightly insulting and greatly refreshing) she finds herself settling in to people-watching. Even if there's nobody present that she feels a strong need to interact with, even among those she doesn't care about there's at least some worth looking at. People dress however they want in this VIP area, and how some people want to dress is very... interesting.

Of course, this could be a bit of hypocrisy on her part, because after spending the entire morning doing lab work she hadn't been in the mood to put much though into what she would wear here - a testament to just how intent she'd been on the work and how fried her mind had felt afterward because normally it's completely unheard of for her to not deeply consider what she would wear anywhere - and she'd simply thrown on her normal 'rogue' outfit. Which consists of a garment cut similarly to a strapless, one-piece swimming suit; a pair of knee-high, high-heeled boots; and a pair of gloves that reach her elbows. All of it in a shade of dark green that so compliments the particular shade of light green that her skin tends to take lately. So she's probably the most unusually dressed person here at the moment. Of course, she's also the one here who could best pull off an extreme style - everything looks good on her, after all.

As for the rest of the patrons visible to her in this back area? She's not particularly impressed. So many, many attempts to look high class, and so few successes. Not to mention the people who aren't even trying. Of course, she's extremely picky about clothing - even back when she used to get invited to every gathering of Gotham's wealthy elite she would often find it difficult to find anyone wearing anything that had her full approval. Today the one who comes closest is a man she doesn't quite recognize - probably one of the higher ups in a mafia family that she's never done anything with - but she does appreciate a new, very well-tailored suit. Not that she has even the slightest bit of interest in the man wearing it - the woman sitting next to him looks like she would fit in better on the corner of Gotham's red light district - at least in Poison Ivy's opinion - and any man who would associate with a woman of such poor taste is of absolutely no interest to her. Especially since he's also quite likely to be the same kind of lying, heartless, scheming, shallow, untrue, sadistic bastard as every other man she's ever met. He just happens to be a particularly well-dressed one.

[Deleted]

"A little chilly in here," Leslie said, offering unsolicited commentary to another midday customer seated at the bar.  She couldn't help herself.  Chit chat filled the awkwardness that otherwise would be palpable in a sea of silence.  As she continued to look around, she studied the impressive ice sculptures that could be seen throughout the establishment's first floor.  "I guess it kinda has to be to keep those from melting too quickly."

The silence was filled, albeit only momentarily, when the bartender returned with the shock jock's drink.  "I prefer Vodka Martinis," she explained to the uninterested and unimpressed fellow in the seat next to her.  "...Me and James Bond.  I guess double-o seven doesn't like gin either.  To me it smells like hobo liquor."   

The man next to her went from being uninterested and unimpressed to visibly annoyed.  He rose from his bar stool and prepared to make his exit.  "If ya wanted silence, ya shoulda gone to the library!" she chided him. 

Dammit!  She was beginning to get frustrated.  She'd pictured an afternoon full of mystery and mischief.  But so far all she'd gotten was an overpriced drink and a cold shoulder to go with the goose bumps on her fanny.  Continuing to survey her surroundings, her thoughts returned to the VIP section.  "I bet that's where the real fun is," she said to herself while playfully shooting a tiny shard of electricity into her drink to cause it to bubble.  Then she barked out a question, "Hey, Barkeep?  Who's a girl gotta kill to get invited to hang with the VIPs?"    

[Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy]

Who does one have to kill to get in the VIP area? Well, in Poison Ivy's case it was several hundred people. Most of them were actually criminals working in the black market who had outlived their usefulness to her, while the rest were casualties in an epidemic she unleashed - the cure had been circulated before it had killed off more than those who were close to death already.

But it was not the murders that got her on the list, but the recognition she received when her crimes first came to light. She's a woman with a rather unique skillset - one that makes her able to play with the big boys in Gotham and win her fair share. It's when Oswald recognized this that her name was added to the list, which he'd done so quite promptly. He's quite careful about such things, after all, and makes it his business to keep tabs on that unique group of people.

Of course, there are times when he misses someone - if they're simply too new to have been noticed yet or appear to be less impressive than they actually are. But those who deserve to be in the VIP area usually manage to find their way past the man at the door anyway - and quite easily much of the time. Not because Oswald fails to put a good man in that critical security position - though Poison Ivy assumes that it can be difficult of fill since in can be a dangerous job - but because those who deserve to be in the back room at the Iceberg are precisely the same people as those who aren't going to let something as insignificant as a man at the door stop them for long. Usually they manage to do so without killing the man, which many refrain from doing only because they don't wish to annoy Oswald, but only usually.

Unlike the woman complaining about the silence in the front of the club, Poison Ivy is quite enjoying the relative quiet as she sits and savors her drink. In fact, it's quieter here than there, if one measures it in decibels - the music on the dance floor tends to be quite loud and leak into the surrounding rooms. But this back area is shielded from all of that, so it's nice and quiet. Then again, so much more is happening here than there. If one knows what to look for one can quietly see alliances forming, growing, and fading; old and new enemies sizing each other up; deals being made, honored, and broken. It's all much more intriguing than the silly small talk of Gotham's unnotables. And much more likely to result someone getting shot, but Poison Ivy doesn't care much about bullets that aren't aimed at her.