2790/Gotham Charity Event: PBS Gala

Gotham Charity Event: PBS Gala
Date of Scene:	10 October 2017
Location:	North Shore, Staten Island
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Nightwing, Pixie

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Nightwing has posed:
    The free hours left to him are rather few and far behind for the young man known as Richard Grayson. What with the academy prep work taking up his time, and then the sojourns into the cities of Gotham and Bludhaven each night, the little free time he has is rather thin on the ground. Sometimes he's able to get away and to see a friend here or there socially, but it's rarely for long and rarely more than something in passing. But tonight he's had to gather the time together, get dressed up decently... and put in a good showing.
    Since tonight is the evening of the local 'Support Your Public Television' gala. Which, to be fair, isn't as upscale as many of the Gotham city charity functions. You won't be seeing a Bruce Wayne and his model of the week. Nor will you see a Rupert Thorne and his upstanding political supporters here. No this is more a few steps down, with a gathering of people who have contributed to a telethon, or won a raffle, and now they're here in the hotel ballroom of the Gotham Ritz-Carlton.
    But for what it is, the team has done a good job here. The chandeliers and the lighting is lovely and dimmed, setting a friendly atmosphere as people move about and mingle. The dress is faintly upscale, though not more so than a suit, a nice dress, relatively few jewels on display so chances are the Riddler won't burst in. Yet it's an intimate time, people moving about as music plays, enjoying the catered food, the open bar.
    And Dick Grayson? He's amongst the local producers of PBS, shaking their hands and smiling. "Thanks guys, for everything you do. Really appreciate it. I remember growing up watching Happy Time Playhouse."
    To which the producers, an older couple who are smiling at the attention on their local kid's show, "Thank you so much, Mr. Grayson. We just try to do what we love and luckily that gave us a following."
    "Well keep it up."

Pixie has posed:
Megan Gwynn flies to the party. It's an odd thing to do, but she's feeling social, and a fundraiser seems like a nice change of pace. Heck it's even for a decent cause. She's dressed not too upscale, since it's not too upscale of an event. But she is in a black dress, form-fitting and a little short, for a sleek, modern look. Backless as well for her wings to be folded up, which may make her look like a raver girl crashing the event. Which she almost is.

The Welsh girl does put in some money, like 20 bucks, but she doesn't exactly have lots to give. She comes to the local producers as well, and she asks "Most American television is not included in this right? Mostly educational materials?"

Nightwing has posed:
    As for the young man opposite that couple, he's dressed decently well in what would pass for a suit without a jacket, though the dark colours are sombre. Bright leather shoes, shined as if onyx, dark slacks, a white shirt tucked in with a fine leather belt that's through the loops and tight around his waist. He's tall, a little over six foot, but he smiles sidelong to the girl as she approaches. "This is just channel 3 here in the city." He looks askance to the older couple.
    Who in turn smile and nod back towards Megan and her arrival, seemingly unperturbed to her, her youth, or what she's wearing. "Yes, we do children's programming, but also news reports and some local interest pieces."
    "You had that special on the lumber industry if I recall? That got a Peabody, right?"
    "Why yes, Mr. Grayson. That's true."
    Which is at the point when Richard offers his hand, "Dick Grayson, good to meet you."

Pixie has posed:
Megan Gwynn grins to the older people, and nods. "I'm glad I gave then. Educational materials are fantastic. Channel three... I believe I saw that. Oh yes, the one with the puppets." She claps happily, as the producers then might start moving on to mingle with other donors.

So her attention is fully on Dick now. She looks him over, taking a deep breath, and places her soft hand to his. "Megan Gwynn, charmed," she smiles. "This feels so posh, versus just going to a bar. I like this."

Nightwing has posed:
    A small smile, a hint of a laugh. "Yeah, not exactly the same atomsphere, though..." He tilts his head at her, "You might be a smidge young for the open bar. But here..." He turns and starts to walk with her, his footsteps light and easy as he negotiates the crowd, stepping through the way and heading towards the array of drinks there, even as the bartender looks up.
    "What can I get for you, Mr. Grayson?"
    Dick looks back to the bartender, "Hey Tim," It says so on his name tag. "Another ginger ale for me and for Ms. Gwynn a..." He tilts his head as he looks towards her, "Soda? Tea?"

Pixie has posed:
Megan Gwynn keeps her hand holding his as long as he allows, following Dick as he gets an idea. Coming up to the bar beside him, she giggles at the whole situation, then looks into Dick's eyes. "That would be fine, thank you Richard."

Nightwing has posed:
    Once they're settled there at the bar, Dick turns back towards her, even as Tim serves up a chilled glass with some ginger ale in it. The glass slides across the way, leaving a small trail of condensation that he wipes up with the sweep of a rag before he turns back and starts to move to the other end of the bar, taking a drink order with a smile.
    Grayson, for his part, looks back towards her. "So something tells me you're not a Gothamite." He said, not exactly having to delve into the toolbox of the Dark Knight Detective to make that deduction. He leans against the bar, hand curled around the base of his glass as he considers her. "Where are you from? That accent is lovely. London?" He asks curiously, though... to be fair, he most likely knows it's not London.

Pixie has posed:
Megan Gwynn does take the ginger ale, and winks at him as she sniffs it ast hough it were some wine, and finally sipping. She turns to face him as she does so, her free hand reaching out to trace along his arm, straightening his sleeve a little. "Originally from Wales, but Westchester for some years now. But to be fair I could never distinguish most American accents either."

Nightwing has posed:
    A small tsk comes from him as he looks to her, "I can't believe that to be true. You can't tell the difference between an East Coaster like myself and say someone from the south? I think you must be fibbing." But the smile he offers might rob any sting from that statement, even as he takes up his own ginger ale and takes a sip before setting the glass down with a faint clink.
    "But Westchester, I visited there once, went to a football game. Lively people, very animated and enthusiastic about their club." His lip twitches faintly, then he turns his head.
    Across the way a heated discussion has begun, apparently a man standing at the usher's podium and taking exception to matters as he holds the hand of a woman who could definitely be a super model. His tone is sharp, severe, but for now they can't make out what's being said.
    Trying to put it out of his mind, Dick looks back to her. "Though you also don't seem to be a football enthusiast either."

Pixie has posed:
Megan Gwynn giggles and points in a general northerly direction. "Oh begging your pardon Richard. I mean Westchester New York. I went to a private school there. I never cared for football. My father adores rugby and darts." She sips again herself, setting her own glass down quietly and carefully. This time she adjusts Richard's shirt a bit, fixing the line down the middle slightly.

"As for the accents," she grins, "Yes I can tell Texas from New York. But I can't tell Texas from Georgia, or New York from Boston. Not unless you point it out to me."

Nightwing has posed:
    "Ahh," Dick's smile is wry, "Well ok then, Westchester, New York." The young vigilante leans to the side, "I'm afraid I haven't been there," The ginger ale continues to sweat idly as he looks across the way back towards the angry couple who seem to still be taking out their ire on the usher for some reason.
    "So are you in school?" He asks of her, but then he furrows his brow and pushes away from the bar, wiping his hands with a napkin before he looks to her. "I'm sorry, will you forgive me?" He asks of her even as he seems likely to step away and his point of attention seems to be that to do at the door that might be nothing, then again it might not.

Pixie has posed:
Megan Gwynn does seemt o be a little touch happy right now with Dick. A bit impressed. Having gotten his shirt just so, she tugs at it one more time, and then pulls her hands back to fold behind herslef. "You're sorry?" It's then when she notices the argument. "I've just graduated, and now to decide what I will do next. Not sure. Probably not college. "Are you going to escort them out? Wow."

Nightwing has posed:
    A smirk is given back to her as he checks his tie, just in case it's not set, then he tilts his head towards Megan, "No, heh." But then his eyes widen slightly, bright and blue, but his smile is remorseful, "I mean, I hope not. Just going to go talk to them."
    That having been said he steps away from the bar and gives her a nod, "Back in a bit." He turns away and begins to cross the room, footsteps lost in the ambient noise of the crowd. But she can see him make his way, wandering towards the front of the assembly and to the couple who are still speaking intensely with the young man who looks so bewildered and having to deal with this.

Pixie has posed:
Megan Gwynn bites her lip a moment. She turns around, to follow Richard's movements. She resumes sipping her ginger ale, to have something to do with her hands, otherwise she'd start tugging at the hem of her dress, and that would just make things worse with this one.

Leaning over to the bartender, she smiles "Is he in charge here? Richard I mean."

Nightwing has posed:
    The bartender glances over, eyeing Megan sidelong and then smiling. "No. Not really, just comes to these sorts of things. He's Bruce Wayne's kid. Adopted I think." The tender wipes down the counter and tilts over some of the pretzel bowls, refilling them from an already open bag. He sets one out on the counter top and then pushes it towards Megan.
    "Good fella, nice. A bit uptight if you ask me, but can't really blame him for it." That said he eyes her drink even as across the way Grayson is talking to that irate couple, smiling the while and seeming to luckily lower their agitation levels. Then back to Megan, "Want another Ginger Ale?"

Pixie has posed:
Megan Gwynn glances over to Dick, seeing what he's up to. A free hand goes to the pretzel bowl, and she sucks the salt off of one as she watches. Then finally nibbling down the pretzel, she swallows and glances back over to the bartender. "Well um, I was kind of hoping for something a little more than ginger ale." she giggles, covering her mouth to act like she's keeping a big secret from the distant 'kid.' "Bruce Wayne though, that's some uh, rich guy or something? I didn't grow up around here so I don't know the local um, rich people."

Nightwing has posed:
    The bartender smirks at her and shakes his head, "Sorry, kid. I like this gig, our company gets used a ton. Not about to risk it for some underage eyelash waggling, no matter how long." But he reaches over and grabs her glass, pulling it behind the counter just long enough to pick up the soda gun and spritz some more ginger ale into her glass then a few more ice cubes.
    "But the Waynes?" He scrunches an eye up and looks upwards, then back to her. "They were sort of like the Kennedys but for Gotham." He waves a hand, "Philanthropy, politics, activism. But then the parents got killed, so their son is the last of them. Dick." He nods towards the young man who is still talking to the disgruntled couple, who seem to be calming down. "Was adopted into the family after he lost his parents. So... is sort of an honorary Wayne."

Pixie has posed:
Megan Gwynn laughs. "Eyebrow waggling? Sir, I was just going to tip you. Not that I can tip like he canI'm sure... Kennedy. Oh, the Irish lad who became President. I see, I see." Then sipping her beverage again. "He do this sort of thing a lot, just go break up a fight? Iwonder if I should go save him from being glommed upon."

Nightwing has posed:
    A small smirk and a shrug, as if accepting her altered premise and not caring to argue it, the bartender gestures with the rag in his hand. "I don't know, maybe?" He grins and then gives her a wink, "Hollar if you need anything, kiddo." With that said the bartender slides down to the other side of the bar, taking the orders of another handful of people who have sidled on up.
    But she isn't left alone for too long, for Dick Grayson makes his way back, partially patting the older man, who had been so mispleased, on the shoulder and gesturing to the bar. After a few moments he strolls on through the crowd, slipping through it with practiced ease. Just a handful of moments later and he steps back up to Megan and gives a nod.
    "Heya, so what did I miss?" He asks as he tilts his head after the bartender who is now pouring a few more drinks. Then he looks back to her, "Anything exciting?"

Pixie has posed:
Megan Gwynn sips her beverage slowly, watching the bartender get back to work. She feels like he's trying to make a point, but she's not sure what it is. Maybe it's just some subtle American thing she doesn't understand.

But the return of Dick puts an end to thsoe thoughst for now. "Welcome back," she smiles. "Not much. Asked for some alcohol, didn't get it." She adjusts his tie again, as she looks at him. "So were you successful?"

Nightwing has posed:
    A hand is lifted and waggled a bit back and forth, "Somewhat." He sweeps a hand over his tie, checking it himself and finding it nice and suitable, but then he looks back up to her. Those blue eyes are level and his smile is easily offered, "But how are you finding things? To your liking?" He tilts his head and looks around the place, then back towards her even as the band continues to play distantly.
    He reaches over the side of the bar and liberates a glass for himself that he fills with some soda, before he turns back towards her.

Pixie has posed:
Megan Gwynn picks up another pretzel idly, nibbling it down rapidly, then swallowing another mouthful of ginger ale. "Very well, thank you," she grins. Then biting her lip, tilting the glass in her hand slightly. "This is a different kind of evening from what I'm used to. Much more, uh, relaxed. It's nice to be in a quieter place. Much nicer to be able to hear the other end of the converstaion. But I suppose this is more normal for you."

Nightwing has posed:
    "A bit," He lifts a hand to the side a little and then waves it away as if brushing past the sentiment. He tilts back towards her and smiles, "I try to keep active in these things, but always lose track and my time is spread so thin..." He mentions that idly, as if she would know, but he does not elaborate. "But I am afraid I am going to have to leave here soon." He draws up a sleeve and checks the watch, then looks back to her. "But it was lovely to make your acquaintance."

Pixie has posed:
Megan Gwynn frowns momentarily. "Well, I understand that. Sometimes we get to snack and chat, other times we have to save the universe, right?" she winks. "I do hope to run into you at one of these things again."

Nightwing has posed:
    "Who knows?" He offers as he steps to the side, taking a deep drink of the soda and then exhaling a steadying breath as if trying to make himself ready for whatever the night holds. Then he looks back towards her and murmurs, "But hey, it really was lovely." He tells her with that easily offered smile even as he steps up and slips an arm around her shoulder to give a small hug before stepping back and then turning to try and make his way through the crowd.