15127/A Favor Asked

A Favor Asked
Date of Scene:	23 May 2023
Location:	Podium at Theatre Row, Colgate Heights
Synopsis:	Domino acquired some important property deeds from Helena's lockbox during a recent bank heist. Helena asks Kate to help her get them back. Kate agrees, but there will be Big Favors owed. Dinner is just the first step!
Cast of Characters:	Huntress, Batwoman

---

Huntress has posed:
Three days before, texts were exchanged. Helena invited Kate to the showing of a new play at the Theatre. Something all the rage, based on a book, with twisty betrayals and a great finishing number. And like all extremely rich people, Helena claims the best box seat in the house and proceeds to thoroughly ignore the play. For many, it's an excuse to dress up in their finest -- in Helena's case, a form fitting designer red dress, a drape of clustered diamonds at her throat and ears, paired with red elbow length gloves.

Champagne and strawberries flow from a quiet, attentive waiter, at least until intermission, when it's time to dine at the place all the elite of Gotham go to to be seen -- Podium.

The first course arrives -- smoked salmon tartare, decorated lovingly -- and once the waiter retreats, Helena prepares to get down to the /real/ business, leaning towards Kate as she murmurs, "I would pay a hundred dollars for a Mai Tai." She waits at least five solid beats, looking over her shoulder, to make sure the waiter doesn't respond to that before she smiles.

"Do you know of the mercenary called Domino?"

Batwoman has posed:
Having been forcibly enlisted - gently encouraged - to attend one play and one cocktail party too many by her step-mother, Katherine Rebecca Kane knows the steps of the Old Money Dance well. You see a play. You get the best seats in the house. You use it as an excuse to talk about the future of the city and your properties and investments and what deals you want to get pushed to the senate floor.

And mostly, you wait until intermission to do the same with even more people.

It's tedious. But more to the point: it makes for an excellent cover. And most importantly of all --

It gives her an excuse to break out her favorite suits.

It's a wine red, three-piece tuxedo the pale Kane heiress wears -this- particular evening; with the formalities of a play she could actually take the time to enjoy done and over with, the coat has been shrugged off, slung casually over the back of her chair as she makes herself comfortable in her seat. In contrast to the soldier's bearing she carries herself with as Batwoman, Kate Kane is a more casual creature, the more obvious notes of her body language loose and easy as she samples the painstakingly-crafted tartare. She considers the taste of it with like a true, elevated foodie as she leans ever-so-discretely towards Helena to listen to her shared secret. She swallows -- and a conspiratorial smile graces dark red lips.

"A Mai Tai and a good, messy burger -- that's all I need in my life right now."

But at least the tartare -looks- fancy.

There's no reaction from the waiter, though -- and with him out of earshot, Helena's question draws a blink from bright green eyes.

"Huh," she exhales, like Helena just struck a nerve. "White as a sheet, armed like a roving arsenal, has a superpower of being a giant pain in my ass?" She takes her fork to the tartare again, toying with the smoked fish.

"We're acquainted. I'm guessing you've had the pleasure, too?"

Huntress has posed:
The laughter that spills from Helena is, somewhat like the tartare, a crafted creation. Oh, there's amusement, for sure -- the woman, too, knows the dance of Old Money, and the craving for simpler fare like a messy burger. A place like this is less about the food and more about being /seen/ -- the paparazzi will certainly be interested in capturing photos of the Kane heiress with the wealthy and recently reclusive Bertinelli woman.

"I made Jason take me to a New York pizzeria last night. It was so good to have some messy pie." She sighs, almost wistfully, as she forks a mouthful of the salmon, at least sufficient to satisfy any watchers.

"That's her," Helena confirms, with a visible kind of grimace. She's less adept at schooling her expression; that or she doesn't care to. "A pain in both our asses, it would seem." She shakes her head briefly, setting aside her fork in favor of the glass of red specifically paired for the entree. "We didn't exactly meet. The other week there was a heist at the Third Gotham Bank." Hardly anything to take note of; in Gotham this sort of thing happens all the time.

"Several bat-folk responded, so things were mostly kept in hand. Only the mercenary was there, too -- either coordinated or taking advantage -- and she got into my lockbox there." There's a thinning of lips. "The cash, the jewelry, I care little about. But she took the deeds to several properties that border the area between the Galante family's territory and the Ber- the Panessa family." She almost, almost said her own family name, since it was once her father's. "You might think of me refusing to sell the land as enforcing neutral territory. I would guess Galante got tired of me stringing them along in any negotiations and hired the mercenary to steal them. I need those deeds back, but Huntress can't be anywhere near something to do with Helena."

Clearly the reason why they're having this delightful night out. "I need Batwoman's help."

Batwoman has posed:
Hide in plain sight. The reclusive, last scion of the Bertinelli family, in the company of the gossip column's favorite member of the Kanes?

All eyes on them, for all the wrong reasons. Kate's rather fond of the bold simplicity of it.

Sometimes it pays, to have a scandalous reputation.

"See, now I'm jealous," asides the scarlet-haired army brat, a grimace twisting at her dark lips. "The last time I was in New York, some goon in a weaponized ferris wheel tried to run me over before I could even go to my favorite spot to eat. Completely ruined the trip. I just hope Jason took you to the -right- pizzeria." Pizza in New York is serious business, after all.

There's a lopsided smile that begins with the pleasantries, and manages to linger even through Helena's explanation of a particular thorn in both their sides. The bank heist -- she'd heard about that. It seemed like standard fare -- or at least, fare that was well in hand by other members of Gotham's vigilante system. But...

Kate's brows furrow til they inspired a little wrinkle at the bridge of her nose.

Properties. If Domino was after it, then it means someone else hired her to be. Helena suggests the Galantes, and Kate's more than willing to defer to her expertise. Helena would handle it herself, but...

"You need a proxy," Kate concludes. She taps her for twice on the edge of her plate. "And here I thought you invited me to a night on the town to have a heated debate about the merits of the play's bold third act."

Her tone is a wry thing, and her smile is easygoing -- but there's a sharpness to her stare that wasn't quite there before. The subtle shift towards that soldier's mentality once business comes up. She slumps back in her seat, one elbow resting against the back of her chair in a casual way that purposefully doesn't match the tone of the conversation taking place: "So, any leads for me to go on? Domino herself might be hard to corner, assuming she's still got the deeds." See also: pain-in-the-ass.

Huntress has posed:
The aside earns a genuine smile from Helena. She's rarely this relaxed as Huntress, and some of it is part of the cover -- but she does seem at ease around the other woman. Part of that is similar upbringing, even apart from their vigilante alter egos. "Wow, that's rude. Ferris wheels should be illegal without obligatory cotton candy." The smile seems to brighten just a hint. "Oh, yes. There's a place I go -- have gone -- for years. It's quiet. Perfect for being out of the eye."

She doesn't offer to share. A place doesn't stay private if you start talking about it, after all. Plus Helena unnecessarily paranoid by way of her trade.

There's nothing ladylike about the snort that comes from Helena. "Only the rabble stay for the third act. If the lead actor had better calf definition I might've been persuaded otherwise, but-" the woman has probably never seen the end of a play in her life. While Kate considers, the second course comes out. Slow cooked beef brisket, smashed rosemary potato along with a variety of colorful greens. With it, comes replacement wineglasses, to match the course.

Helena barely acknowledges the waiter's presence, other than to wait until she's sure he's out of earshot.

"I would suggest wringing a name out of the woman herself," Helena says. "It might be the easiest. Honestly though, she's a mercenary." She leans forward, a knowing smile touching her lips. "Couldn't we simply pay her to... re-acquire the deeds?" she tilts her head. She hasn't head the dealings Kate has with Domino to know whether that play would work.

Batwoman has posed:
True treachery is being told of a great, quiet pizzeria --

And then being denied a name.

Kate Kane squints at Helena Bertinelli. Denied of a name she can either a) ruthlessly critique or b) scope out herself, all she can do is cluck her tongue thrice.

"Well played, Bertinelli."

Brisket, at least, is more than fine compensation for being so brutally betrayed. Kate's eyes alight at the sight; as much as her home away from home has been a collection of dive bars and clubs, Kate still slings that high-class sense of propriety with the best of them, drawing her plate close and taking her time to enjoy the food on offer.

Besides, Kate knows: you never rush a good brisket.

"-Mmf-." Though even her knowing how to properly behave doesn't actually stop her from voicing her enjoyment. "Now -this- is good." Unlike Helena, Kate -does- offer the waiter a small smile and a very discreet (note: not actually very at all) flash of a thumbs up, as if all to nonverbally convey one little thought: 'You're doin' great!'

Whether this is better or worse than going unacknowledged is an open question.

Once the course is delivered and the waiter is gone, though, Kate pauses in the middle of her meal as Helena offers her suggestion. Kate's hands fall into her lap as she considers, green gaze affixing to the assemblage of plates and glasses at their table as she chews on the inside of her cheek. Would Domino go for it, though?

"... Mm. Honestly? I'm not sure. When I ran into her, it was on a smuggling interception. Some antiques and artifacts, stolen from an art dealer -- Howard Vernell. The whole thing was an inside job: daughter was after them, and Domino was after her. There was something... strange... going on with all those artifacts. Supernatural." And even now Kate has more questions than answers about all that, except...

"It seemed like it might have been personal business for Domino. So I guess it depends on whether all this is tangled up in that business... and the kind of mercenary she is," Kate continues, slowly. "If she's the type that values her contracts, then it's going to be an uphill battle. If she just goes with the highest bidder... we can make a pitch, but there's no guarantee then that she'll actually follow through. Either way, it's a good approach to get our foot in the door."

She carves a piece of brisket free, spearing it on her fork as she spares Helena a look.

"So looks like step one will be to find the world's most monochrome mercenary. I can handle that."

It works well enough for her, either way; she still has questions Domino has answers to.

Huntress has posed:
While the heiress contemplates her life choices, Helena Bertinelli merely sips the very excellent expensive wine, and smiles just a little at that squint. Only when the other woman begins on the brisket and Helena lifts her own folk does the woman relent, with just the right touch of incentive.

"Get me my deeds and I'll slip you the name."

It's not like Kate Kane is doing her a /huge favor/ or anything.

It is great brisket though. The lift of Helena's brow might suggest she spots that thumbs up, with a sigh. "That's what tips are for, Kate." And whatever else Helena might do, she does tip generously when it's well-deserved. The waiter's discretion will be rewarded.

"Supernatural?" there's a note in Helena's voice as Kate recounts her encounter with Domino. Not disbelief -- she's seen just enough weirdness in Gotham to know otherwise -- but rather a kind of bemusement that such a thing might involve a mercenary like Domino, of all people. At least until it's revealed Kate's suspicions that it's personal. That, Helena totally comprehends.

As she works through her brisket, pausing now and then to enjoy the paired wine, Helena murmurs, "If she prefers some... leverage, rather than payment, you could offer her your services with her personal business." So kind of the Huntress to offer up /Kate's/ time. "...and the Huntress' at need."

The look Kate gives her is met with a pleased regard from Helena. "I knew you'd be the right person for the job." She's not afraid to flatter. Especially when it gets her what she wants. "If Domino gives up any names, I'll give you what information I can. I've been out of the city for three years, but one painful brunch or dinner with my mother's family should be sufficient to shake out what there is to know."

Batwoman has posed:
Incentive:

"Oh really."

Successfully dangled.

"Sometimes tips need a personal touch," is Kate's drab remark in the wake of Helena's sighing criticism. She leans back, brows lifting, a hint of a smile on her dark lips.

"-Someone- ought to show some appreciation for their ability to suffer through people like us."

The generous tip is clearly just the icing on the cake of the thumbs up. Kate won't hear otherwise.

As flippant as she can be - and she can be quite flippant when she needs to be - she takes to Helena's request with that serious edge of someone taking on a formal mission. The would-be black sheep of the Kane family swiftly compartmentalizes what she knows versus what she doesn't versus what she -needs-, quietly assessing risk factors and best approaches to tracking down Domino (who, to her mind, remains the biggest risk factor of all) as Helena speaks. One can see the wheels turning behind her stare as she chews on a tender chunk of slow-cooked beef, setting her fork down to fold arms over her chest.

"So, trading favors," she summarizes, tapping a finger against her bicep. "Could work. I don't trust her as far as I can throw her. But I can play nice." A dark brow lifts, just so.

"And I can be sure to tell her Huntress can play -especially- nice. Like the sweetest little kitten."

Kate can be kind and considerate too, you see.

It's a little snort that follows in the wake of Helena's flattery. "Please," Kate says, shaking her head. "I'm doing it for the pizzeria. And the huge damn favor you're going to owe me for making me have to owe -Domino- a favor." No -- flattery and a secret pizzeria - even a secret NEW YORK pizzeria - isn't enough to satisfy Kate in this particular case. "It's going to be a -doozy-."

She shifts in her seat, to more fully face Helena. "I'll find her. I doubt she's left Gotham yet." And even if she has... Kate's confident in her ability to track belligerent monochrome mercenaries. "Once I have something, I'll get in contact with you and we can decide the plan of attack."

One pale hand extends out to Helena in offering; Kate cants her head.

"Deal?"

Huntress has posed:
"I'm not great at the personal touch," Helena says, and the /way/ she says it suggests she's not merely talking about praising the hired help, either. "As you may have noticed." Whatever else, the woman is well aware of her faults and not overly ashamed in admitting them.

The knowing chuckle she gives at the idea of putting up with them is met with a smile and a lift of her wine glass as if in silent toast. "True. Just better you than me."

She doesn't interrupt Kate's musing session, but works through the meal, occasionally glancing towards the entrance as people arrive and leave, ever aware of her surroundings and the people within it. Occupational hazard. Kate's assertion that she can play nice snaps Helena's gaze back to her with a lift of brow. When she continues and asserts Huntress can be especially nice, that second brow meets the first in disbelief.

"She'll definitely know you're lying," with a twitch of lips. "I don't think I could pull that off if you put a gun to my head." There's something about the uniform that's freeing, with Helena. She's a different person, almost, when she's Huntress. A more freer person than the constrained woman she purports to be.

"...but I'll try, if it comes to that. Try to make sure it doesn't."

Because she's not looking forward to that disaster.

Doing it for the pizzeria? Helena knows better than anyone that secret, great places are like gold. So she totally buys this reasoning, nodding along. At least until the addition of a favor is added. She blows out air, annoyed, but not surprised. "Fair," she concedes, stretching out her hand to meet Kate's and shake it.

To onlookers it'll look like some kind of lucrative business deal.

"...are you staying for dessert? Italian souffle with biscotti." A less active person than Helena might be tempted to skip dessert for health reasons. But she's hard pressed to turn down a good Italian dessert.

Batwoman has posed:
'I'm not great at the personal touch,' says Helena. The rim of Kate's wine glass pauses against her lip seconds from a sip as she considers Helena.

"... I know," is all she says, before she drinks; but it carries a certain weight behind it, too.

It's not that different from her, really. How she was. She just found a different way to cope, in the end. ... A different way to get by every day without the person who made up for all the things that she lacked.

And that's why she offers up the lift of her wine glass when Helena toasts her, with words of her own.

"That's why God created friends, Helena," she says, only a -little- glibly.

"'For if they fall, the one will lift up their fellow; but woe to they that is alone when they fall, for they have not another to help them up.'"

Old Testament or Tanakh, Kate appreciates the message all the same: friends are there to help carry the weight you can't. She just wishes she was better at following it, sometimes.

Friends are ALSO there to haze you. For example: the way that Helena works her way through her brow-raising disbelief at Kate's claim of Huntress' great kindness inspires a smile in Kate, forging an expression of perfect cat-that-ate-the-canary smugness. Her hands spread, helplessly.

"No promises," is all she allows. She's -not- going to mention it to Domino, but.

Sometimes she just can't resist the urge to rib.

But the deal is made with the clasp of hands that by any bystander's reckoning would likely just be some blue blood wheeling and dealing or another. A favor for a favor. ... For another, potential favor. Kate doesn't necessarily like being beholden to Domino, but, well.

She's sure she can figure something out.

She's considering the next steps, when that question comes. Brisket mostly finished, Kate blinks, turning that green-eyed stare Helena's way. Brows lift and lips part as if in disbelief Helena could even ask her that. Maybe because she has work to do. Or maybe --

"Like I'm gonna say no to a souffle?"

Or maybe that.

"You're stuck with me for the evening, Bertinelli." A smile touches dark lips.

"So you better just hunker down and get ready. I can be a very embarrassing dinner date."

Huntress has posed:
It's enough, really, that Helena bares that weakness and Kate acknowledges it without making a fuss. It feels like acceptance, and it's sufficient to make the woman smile, however brief, before she imbibes from her glass.

She's not /quite/ sure she agrees on the idea of that being what friends are for. The Birds of Prey are certainly probably the closest thing she had to them, other than her old partnership with Jason Todd. "I feel like this turned into an intervention, and if so, surely you should be paying?" the woman's tone is rueful, however. Neither of them really have a care for money, and money isn't the issue.

Just Helena's brief discomfort, turning into something lighter at the smugness in Kate's demeanor. Really, she can't be mad about it, and she's much better about the ribbing than she used to be. No angry tirades, for example.

The laugh that spills out of Helena at Kate's reaction to her dessert challenge is genuine, because truthfully: who /would/ say no to souffle? "A woman after my own heart. Waiter, another bottle, and bring on the dessert." Oh he's going to get tipped well tonight, with how quickly he scurries over to fill their glasses.

Helena actually looks contented, which is rare. "I don't mind that at all," she assures of being embarrassing. Truthfully just /having/ a dinner date is a treat, not that she'd ever admit that aloud.