1365/Thief Talk

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Thief Talk
Date of Scene: 09 July 2017
Location: Unknown
Synopsis: A cat and a
Cast of Characters: Catwoman, Miss Moreau




Catwoman has posed:
Midnight, give or take a few minutes. The clubs are busy as they often tend to be, especially the ones run by some of Gotham's seediest characters, most dangerous characters. Catwoman, having made her way to Central Heights via motorcycle, parked it some number of blocks away in a shadowy place the likes of the Batman would probably enjoy, then she took to the rooftops for a closer look of things.

Her target tonight? Is it the Gotham Art Museum? No. One of the other places nearby that could hold valuable items for her to sneak off with? Apparently not. Instead, through the use of her whip, she swings down from a light pole to land roughly equidistant between the Iceberg Lounge and the Fifty/Fifty Club, considering each thoughtfully as the weapon and traveling companion is coiled back up around her hips. Which one?

"Sorry, Harv. Don't think I'm in the mood for your randomness tonight." Her decision made, Catwoman strides toward Penguin's place of 'business.'

Miss Moreau has posed:
The Iceberg Lounge is exactly the type of place one might hope to find someone so specialized as Miss Moreau. Animal lovers, with illegal bents, and one even owns the shop itself. That the White Rose Gang makes their regular appearance is without doubt, and it wouldn't take all that much to run into them.

Fate is ever full of quirks, and in Catwoman's case, she's undisturbed towards the Lounge itself right up until the entrance. By a sheer chance of poor timing, the gothically dressed woman known as Miss Moreau taps a cane towards the ground at the wrong time as she confidently strides out of the club, on a near exact collision course for Catwoman. The other woman might even suffer a light whap towards the thigh should she not turn aside, Moreau leaning into the presence of her guard.

A tall man just behind, not daring to hold the woman's arm. There's a white sedan on the other side of the street, another man near the driver's side. Both wear similar clothing: gothic, charcoal suits with white roses pinned to their chests. And SMG's crudely hidden in their clothes.

Miss Moreau stumbles a bit. She gasps, and immediately holds up a hand.

"Oh dear. Pardon me...mmm." She touches her Scarlet Tome, and sniffs.

"Miss. Dangerous to be out alone, is it not at such late hours?" Offers Moreau, with a little giggle. Her bodyguard is very visibly trying to suppress an eye roll, even as his hand inches to his gun.

Moreau clears her throat. "Manners, Sebastion!"

Catwoman has posed:
A woman with a cane.

A woman with a stylish appearance.

A woman with a gang.

Perhaps Catwoman ought to know of the White Roses, and maybe she has heard of them, but the connection has not yet been made between them and what she sees so far. Frankly, the first thing she's doing is sidestepping the woman exiting the Iceberg Lounge, with a short, "Excuse you," directed toward Miss Moreau. It might be she's not yet worked out the reason behind the cane, but it's only been about a moment. Then, "Oh..right." Blind, probably.

Squinting as the woman fiddles with whatever it is she's doing that with, the costumed woman - in a very distinct look, to be sure - places her hands at her hips and stops just short of outright laughing. There is still a sort of 'snrfle' of amusement out of her. "Lady, this is right in my comfort zone, if you know who I am. The question is, who are /you?/ And, yes, tell your working stiff to stand down. I didn't go out tonight looking to get a few new holes in me."

Miss Moreau has posed:
A sucked breath. Miss Moreau dances aside, and she waves a finger extra hard to the man went for his gun. The mook, Sebastion, pauses. Very, very reluctantly. Miss Moreau all but dances aside from their collision, heels striking the edge of the sidewalk. Rushing cars make her skirts flutter about, and her hair as well.

Moreau can feel that look, and her smile is impish. She pauses and dips into a curtsey that's both respectful, and perhaps a bit cheeky by her Cheshire Grin on her face.

"Not an unreasonable request, Miss. At the risk of sounding crude, I do so hate filling beautiful women full of holes, indirect as it may be." She leans, and Sebastian whispers to her.

"And my dear companion ensures me you are most beautiful in your unique way. I have no quarrel with you at this time, Miss. Please call me Miss Moreau. This gentleman, rake though he may be..." She pauses, and flicks the man's nose in a Denmother's way. He actually stumbles to his duff from the action. Moreau dips to a bow.

"Is Sebastian of the White Roses. It is a pleasure to meet you. Might you return the honor?" Questions Moreau to Catwoman.

Catwoman has posed:
"Yes, pulling guns on people for no particular reason is a good way to land yourself in hot water," Catwoman offers in a dry tone, as much to Sebastion as Miss Moreau herself. Whoever's driving past, it does nothing to affect the look or fit of her costume. Catsuits tend to stay mostly in place, after all.

The black-clad woman crosses her arms both with patience and what seems to be, if the cronies are good at telling, mild annoyance. "And how would you know that about me?" she questions before her hired hand comments under his breath to her. "Miss Moreau, huh? Can't say I've heard.." However, she pauses in mid-sentence, arching a brow behind those red-tinted goggles of hers. "White Roses, you say? I see, I see." The last few words just cannot be coincidental. Not a chance of that.

After the matter of her identity is raised, before she can add any more to her apparent recognition of the gang name or give her own, someone driving past in a sports car nearly runs into something, heard to say, "Holy shit, is that Catwoman?"

Miss Moreau has posed:
"Agreed. And a lesson Sebastion should learn in full. Correct?" Sightless eyes glare over at her bodyguard, and the poor man scuffles to his feet. He makes a move to reach for his gun...and then drops it all the same. The two women might be a bit much even for this loyal servant. But Moreau is nothing if not merciful. She walks over, cane-swats the man on his backside, and shoves him along with a smile.

It's warm, and bordering on loving. "I do believe you have a paramour not two blocks away. Go to her, Sebastian."

A single whap of a cane to a nose has the man's protests cut off. "Go. Enjoy, my loyal petal." Offers the woman, and then she's by herself aside from the goon on the other side of the street. It may as well be a world away as Sebastian follows his Boss' words.

She turns to Catwoman with a smile. "Please forgive him. A fool, but a loyal man." Shrug. She grows serious.

Her ears work well, and catch that name. She looks soon outwardly curious.

"My, my, my. Catwoman! The legendary thief! ...I take it my little outfit has some small notoriety by now? Ahh, progress! Progress! Is that really you though? Mmm. Mistaken identity or...you could get away now, so very easily, should you be her or a mere copycat! Ohh, but are you the sort to take advantage of a blind woman?" Teases Moreau, and she even winks.

"On the other hand, I assure you. I am Miss Moreau, leader of the White Rose Gang. The real Catwoman, or not...either way, perhaps there is an opportunity that the cruel fate of this darkened heart of Gotham offers to us all. But are you willing to grasp it, Miss?" A few hops back. Her hand doesn't leave her book, and her smile remains.

Catwoman has posed:
For her part, Catwoman shows no outward signs of apprehension around the woman's help. Chances are she's just that sure of herself, that she could handle whatever may come. She also pays no mind when it comes to the calling out of her name as the catalyst for Miss Moreau to figure out who she (apparently) is. The show between the woman and henchman gets no reaction from her except a mild sniff of amusement when he's sent off to enjoy himself.

"I hear good help is often hard to find. I'm not much for gangs. Too many people to split things up with. I'm much more comfortable watching my own back." Of course, she can. Miss Moreau, on the other hand?

Now, the costumed woman begins to pace slowly, though what she makes of this encounter thus far is difficult to be sure of. Curious would be one way of putting it, but she's also playing up an aloof side, buying her more time to figure out what she thinks of all this. "I've heard about a thing or two with animals. No wonder you call yourself that. And, I grasp what I like, but I never do it without thinking things through first, no matter how good something sounds. That way leads to a certain place behind bars, and this cat doesn't like cages."

She isn't discouraging the woman from thinking she's the real deal, the true Catwoman.

Miss Moreau has posed:
Another giggle, and not an unpleasant one. A breath, and she smiles.

"Do not underestimate Sebastian's skill, please. Thanks to him, I have been saved at least two dozen times. By my Gang? Four times that amount even with my skills alone, I would have been slain. Better to split coin in my opinion, than be split in half." Miss Moreau turns about once, twice, three times in a waltz with no one. She dances, freely, but still listens honestly to the Catwoman.

And then, she taps her chin. "But I can't say that a single individual isn't without worth! A lone spider crawling amongst an infinite web can evade any predator. The lone spider...the pack leader together though...Mmm, I wonder!" A laugh, proud, and then Miss Moreau skips across the traffic to lean against a white car. Entirely a fluke of fate that she hasn't ended up street pizza. Her hand is offered, Catwoman's way.

"Think all you like. And grasp all you like. You might well be a valuable member or ally of my Family! If it comes to success...how about a challenge? Let us both indulge, in a single theft! One that combines both my Family's talents, and your singular skills? Pay is half and half. One half for participation, another for completion!" A pause, a wink.

"Well? This is a gamble...willing to take it, oh Miss Cat?"

Catwoman has posed:
"We'll..see about that," Catwoman says as she considers the woman speculatively after she listens to her explain the times she's needed help to get out of a jam and the wager is offered. She remains, however, on the other side of the street, shaking her head at Moreau's display of risk, done literally blindly.

Arms crossed, she takes on a self-confident lean to her body language, and one might imagine a tail flicking back and forth lazily - if she had one to flick. "I only like to take bets I know I can win. That improves the odds dramatically, don't you think? Throwing strangers into the mix adds unknown variables," Catwoman explains, content to speak from where she is, voice raised enough for her to think she'll be heard. "So, I think I'll need to see more of what you're all about before I say yes or no. Call it...a maybe."

Miss Moreau has posed:
Moreau tsk's one leg crossing the other. She leans down just a little with her hand on her chin in thought. Her head tilts, somewhat bird-like as she rocks on her heels.

"So true. Do you like safe bets, then, my dear little kitty? I cannot blame you for that. A thief must make sure they aren't tracked down or taken surprise of. But isn't that a bit boring, just being cautious all the time? I find that a well considered, high risk, high reward gamble is the most exhilirating thing one can do when it comes to larceny! Perhaps it will all be a wash. Or, perhaps, you will come out with a glorious prize!" Ponders the woman aloud. She turns as a white sedan pulls up. The door opens, and one of Moreau's thugs step out. Just before getting in, she curtseys to Catwoman.

"I understand. You are a very sharp woman. I love it! Oh, but you want to get to know me? Ah! You flatter me so! Oh, my heart is fit to burst with joy! Such wonderful news!" Then, she does a little fancy pirouette in place, only to stop and clap her hands. Weirdo.

Then, she taps the white rose on her chest. "Catwoman. Here is our wager. If you can find me and pluck this rose from my chest, then I will lend my resources and myself to you for one week, free of charge. Should you attempt, and fail, then it will be you whom will join in my little dance for a time. I look forward to your beautiful claws and voice greeting me once again." A mad little giggle, and she dances into the car, before it pulls away.

Catwoman has posed:
Catwoman holds her position, giving the woman time to lay out her proposal after trying to tempt her to take that risk. However, the thought of extra help with all profits going her way? That's..interesting, and it may be worth further consideration. "I guess you'll just have to wait and find out one way or the other, won't you?" she calls back, content to leave her response at that.

Until, that is, Miss Moreau and her entourage have left the area. That's when she shakes her head and mutters to herself, "Crazy upstart. I should do it, just to show her what's what." Still, it would take plotting and planning. Before that? The visit to the Iceberg Lounge, before she forgets.