3596/Give me money for things!

Give me money for things!
Date of Scene:	08 January 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Batman, Elektra

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Batman has posed:
    The snow continues to fall outside, the small flakes buffeted around by the howl of the wind and seemingly set to dance as if by some malicious piper at song. Not as heavy of a fall as the city of Gotham had suffered only a handful of days before, but enough to lend a sheen of pristine white to the otherwise grimy piles of snow that remains in such low temperatures.
    Yet inside the event room of the Gotham Art Museum, it is warm and at ease. Even though one can see the fall of the snow in the large skylight that gives the great hall a view of the night, each time a flake hits the glass it immediately melts and turns to a small sluice of water down its diamond-like contours. The music accompanies the mood, light and in the background as such should be for when people of such repute gather.
    The speeches were out of the way already. Men and women each speaking to their causes and smiling the smiles they reserve for investors of deep pockets. A few toasts and acknowledgements were sent the way towards Bruce Wayne in his tuxedo, holding up his champagne flute and smiling that pseudo-bashful cultivated smile that had become so commonly seen in the tabloids of the great city.
    But for now, he was out of the limelight, out of the hustle of the investors seeking information on the Wayne charities... and away from the other charities seeking his own investment for them. It was at the bar that he stood, smiling to the tender.
    "Another glass of champagne, Mr. Wayne?"
    "No thanks, Terrance. Maybe you have something a little more... lazy?"
    The bartender smiles, "I have just the thing." And sets to preparing the drink.

Elektra has posed:
These things were always predictable. Elektra didn't usually like the pretentiousness of them, but she'd long ago learned to put on a smiling face and say the right things to the right people, make the rounds, say her goodbyes, and leave. This event was one of those she'd made a point of attending - for many reasons, not the least of which was getting her face out there on the New York social scene. She expected photos. Smiles in the right places. And, of course, the requisite cheque signing and handing over. Though it seemed tonight that would be a less public affair.

Yet another thing she was happy for.

Her drink had long ago grown warm. Somewhere between speech three and six. And while she could have waited for one of the wandering servers to come on by, she'd decided to take matters into her own hand.

As luck would have it, she arrives there not too long after Bruce has. A faint smile upon her lips.

"Lazy? Oh, do tell. I think I'm tired of the usual fare."

She smiles at Terrance, and holds up two fingers elegantly. "If you please."

Batman has posed:
    The waiters continued to circulate through the crowd while the band played on. Some of the people in the hall were admiring the pieces of art that were chosen to serve as set pieces and installations for the celebration. At times a laugh would be heard to join with the buzz of the crowd, but all in all it seems to be a fairly somber affair.
    Terrance, at least, seems to be upbeat. Then, when Ms. Natchios makes her approach to the bar, he seems to light up with a warmth that would be difficult to feign. "Ma'am," he offers.
    But then she slips into the conversation and he looks at Mr. Wayne askance. "Sir?"
    "Set her up, Terry. Not my place to turn away a young woman from possible adventure." The tall man lifts his own mostly empty champagne flute in her direction in a small salute as he speaks.
    "Sure thing, Mr. Wayne." But he turns back to her and smiles, "Mr. Wayne likes to enjoy a spiced apple cider champagne cocktail with just a smidge of rum." He tells her, just in case she isn't feeling /that/ adventurous. But he starts to prepare both of the drinks at the same time.
    It gives them a moment as he offers his hand, "Bruce Wayne, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Natchios."

Elektra has posed:
Elektra's lips twitch over a bemused smile as Terrance gives her 'an out' with regards to the adventure of her drink. "It sounds wonderful," she murmurs, though it's hard to tell with what sincerity the words are offered.

The bemusement is still warm in her eyes when she turns that smile upon Bruce, extending her own hand to his. "Elektra Natchios. I'll admit, I wondered if I might run into you tonight. And the pleasure is all mine, I believe."

Her handshake is exactly what one might expect of a socialite's handshake. Just the right amount of deferential in light of his status at this gala. But not so light as to suggest she's a pushover. And, one might notice just the hint of something unexpected, were one aware of such things: the faintest of callouses in places most socialites don't have them.

Her hand is extricated with ease, and she gestures about the place. "Such beautiful artwork. A wonderful choice for this evening."

Batman has posed:
    Her hand is accepted and given the smallest squeeze as if to acknowledge the sentiment before he settles back with one arm against the bar and her smile is returned. "I'll have to share such a sentiment with whomever arranged for tonight's soiree. It must be so terribly elaborate to get all of the appropriate ducks in a row for such a night as this to go off without a hitch." He smiles and then sets his flute upon the bartop before he looks back towards her.
    "I know when I was younger I just imagined these things happened naturally. People just came together and decided to dress well and have a lot of food and enjoy the sound of each others' voices. Little did I know."
    His smile is warm, easy-going, even as Terrance sets the two tall glasses upon the bar and tells them, "Here you go, two Bruce Wayne specials."
    A smile to the side, "You'll need to think up a better name than that, Terry, if you want this drink to gain any traction."
    "Oh, what would you suggest, sir?"
    "I'd proclaim it the Elektra in honor of our guest." Those blue eyes turn back to her and his smile remains so easy-going, as if he was at home in his living room. "But I think something that carries her name would be a bit stronger."

Elektra has posed:
"Ah,, yes, the joys of good people," Elektra murmurs. "But do share the sentiment. It's been a lovely affair. I confess after a time these things become rather blase and predictable. At least the scenery tonight was exquisite."

She allows something of a shrug. "I'm reminded that my walls remain bare at home. I'm feeling almost inspired."

His comment on how these things came to be, or so he'd thought when younger, causes her to laugh lightly, the sound soft, but rich. "I remember being allowed to stay awake until the first dance. There were many parties in my father's honour when I was a child. Though even then I'm not sure I enjoyed them for what they were. I always thought of them as something of a puzzle. Who were these people. What were they really thinking. That sort of thing. I never really expected that my thoughts would remain quite the same at my age."

She shrugs, and gives Terrance a nod as he delivers the drinks. "Bruce Wayne specials?" Though the other suggestion has her pusing her lips, again in amusement. "Oh I think something stronger and perhaps a little more predicatable in my honour."

Batman has posed:
    "An ambassador, if I recall correctly?" He asks after her father, looking a touch distantly as if searching his memory. But then he returns his gaze to her as he takes up his drink and lightly lifts it to his lips, a small sip taken to taste before he smiles back towards the tender and gives him a nod of acceptance. That would do.
    To her he returns his attention, still leaning there with the posture of a man who enjoys the luxuries in life. He follows along with her tale of youth, and then the corner of his mouth curls up a touch more pronounced at the end of her insight. "Rather wise to perceive that at such a young age." He offers, and then knits his brow as he looks over her shoulder as if trying to plumb the depths of his youth. "I think the most complex thing that had my attention back then would have been how my toy soldiers would ever be able to get across the Sahara desert of my sandbox."
    That having been said he'll take another longer drink and offers a small chuckle at her response to the suggestion of a drink in her name. "Well, if you come up with something and choose a vintage, please drop me a line and we'll share a bottle."

Elektra has posed:
"I've been told I was a precocious child," Elektra says easily, the smile dropping away to something more nuetral. "You'd be correct. Greek Ambassador. My childhood was what they call blessed. Funny how I don't seem to recall it quite that way. But I suppose we all have our stories."

It's no secret that her mother died when she was an infant, and that her father was murdered while she was still quite young. As she says, everyone has their stories.

"I do hope you don't think me terrible for my frankness. This being your soiree and all." Her glance drifting out over the milling crowds. Taking them in. Assessing them. Sorting them into reasons for their appearances here. The fawners. The gawkers. Those wanting their pictures taken 'accidentally' while handing over cheques. An entire array of facades.

Her own drink is sipped, almost negligently, before turning back to him. "A bottle, hrm? My you are adventurous. I wonder, though. Would I be a fine wine, or something you might find in a cask?"

Batman has posed:
    "I would begrudge you nothing, Ms. Natchios." Bruce Wayne's voice is that light almost musical tone, sing-song as if he were perhaps getting ready to sing a duet with Sinatra in Vegas. It could be the drink, or it could just be the man and his reputation for being such a socialite. But he gives thought to her words, he tilts his head to the side. "Though I can't really say this is _my_ soiree, so much as more just one that people are glad I'm around for."
    Another sip and he looks back to her, blue eyes even with her own as his eyes hood faintly. "As for the bottle, well it's only proper isn't it? Would be criminal to let any of such a bottle go to waste. But only if it was truly worth its name. Wouldn't you think?"
    But then he lifts his eyes upwards, smiling. "Hm, I believe it would likely be something fine would be best. There'd need to be a duality to the taste. Something sharp to it, but exotic." He flares one hand to the side, as if brushing his own words away as so much nonsense. "But I'm not exactly a connoisseur, Ms. Natchios. I'm a simple man."

Elektra has posed:
"A cognac then, perhaps. Something with distinction. An edge. A silken smoothness when you finally dare to take a swallow. But nothing you'd want to overindulge in."

Again there is a lightness of laughter from her, followed by a small shrug. "Perhaps. I suppose it could be something I consider. Though it almost seems egotistical to pursue a drink merely to live up to it. And you are nothing but simple, my dear Mr. Wayne. Though I suppose if you were that I would call you Bruce, and you would call me Elektra."

A brow is arched delicately as that subtle challenge is given.

Batman has posed:
    "Oh but stand a Bruce in comparison against an Elektra." He tilts his drink a little even as his brow furrows. "One name carries with it such history, such gravitas. The other is perhaps touched upon to some angry Scots who really were just terribly displeased with things." He crinkles his nose a little as he offers, "One speaks to primal emotions, the keys to the human spirit that defines us all. And the other, is attached mainly to a rock star, albeit a decent one."
    His lip twitches and he looks away, setting his now empty glass on the bartop and clucks his tongue slightly as he looks back to her. "Really there is no comparison." He then lifts his chin, "But if you're willing to make that trade, Ms. Natchios, I would be a poor business man to let it pass by. So from now on, you are Elektra."
    He touches a hand to his chest and then offers, "And I am your Bruce." At that he quirks an eyebrow. "Another?" He gestures with one hand towards the empty glass he just abandoned that is quickly scooped up by the bartender who awaits their wishes.

Elektra has posed:
"My Bruce?" Again there is that delicate lift of brow, and amusement tinged look. "Though I suppose the next you tell this tale you can add some provenance to your name by virtue of mine. Though I don't lay claim to any of the weight of its past."

Her drink had been nursed, small, slow sips that have her still at half a glass. Not that he would know, but as in all things Elektra, she keeps a tight control on her imbibing. It wouldn't do to lose the fine edge of her senses. Small mistakes meant death in her world. Or, more rightly, one of her worlds.

"Perhaps in a while. But for now, I've still some at hand. I'm curious, though, this soiree that bears your name - is there any stake you hold in it? So many speeches. So many hands held out giving and taking. And yet, here you are, hidden away from it all like the theatre once the house lights go up. The magic wonderful in the moments on stage, but nothing more than darkened boards with taped markings once the crowds have left."

Batman has posed:
    "As with so many productions, Elektra." Bruce holds to their bargain even as he gives his nod to the bartender, placing his order for his next drink silently. It allows him to only spare her from his attention for a moment before he returns and gives that lazy half-smile, "I am but the name on the marquee. I am there to draw the public in and during the start of the production I am the face that they get to peer upon all the while those of more import are busy behind the curtain and on the edges of the production."
    He straightens up and lifts a hand, giving a small wave towards an older couple who seem to be making their way towards the door. He lifts his voice and calls out, "Until next time Simon, say hello to Arthur for me, will you?" A small wink given and it's enough that those donors laugh gently and offer waves as well as they depart.
    But then it is back to Elektra even as Terrance slides his second cocktail to him. He takes it in hand and lightly pushes some of the cider around with the thin cinnamon stick that is placed within as adornment. "There are many more talented hands at work here than my own. I just stand up there, say the lines and then wander off to the attentions of those intrigued after the curtain's fall."

Elektra has posed:
"Most things are a production," Elektra observes. "It's merely how much we believe our parts that changes from person to person. I see that you're rather more self aware than most."

Her glass is lifted in light salute of him. And where his smile is lazy, hers is considered. Almost an act of deliberation, though one might wonder, as there is an edge of self-derision to it that suggests an honesty to it that isn't often given.

"More I was wondering, if there were a pet cause of yours, from this evening, what might it be? It seems crass to come to a function such as this and not participate in the spirit of the thing."

Batman has posed:
    "To be fair, there are so many, Elektra." Bruce's tone seems to shift faintly, his brow knitting as he looks to the side and then back at her from the corner of one eye, as if seeing if she might be perhaps making light of him in some way or perhaps feigning her interest. But then he apparently comes to a decision as he imparts to her his thoughts, "Of late, with the weather being as it is and things being so hard on the streets I've been trying to get some attention given to the Gotham Shelters for the Homeless, and Getting A Foot Up is a cause that gives people a living space no questions asked in an effort to help people at least have some stability, some way to feel safe and start putting their lives together."
    His brow knits slightly, even as he takes a drink from that concoction that had been known by his name in part but for now would ever be connected with her as well. "The cold has been terrible. It caught parts of the city off guard." He then shakes his head and smiles gently towards her, "But really there isn't a single cause here more deserving. Perhaps just more... urgent in the moment."
    That having been said he leans forwards slightly, meeting her gaze. Blue eyes hold hers as he seems to be looking closely at her, gauging her words as he asks. "And yourself, Elektra? What has drawn your eye and your efforts of late?"

Elektra has posed:
Elektra looks thoughtful. "Would ten million help?"

The offer is quite casual, and without a pause. Not merely negligent, but more in lines of careless agreement. "Though I suppose this could be an opening line to what I'm sure you already know. Hrm?"

Her drink is sipped before she continues.

"Let's not beat around the bush, then. You're likely aware I've acquired property, and that there is significant construction going on there. And, as ll construction must needs come with listed public permits, you're also aware of the end product. I'll be looking for someone, or something, to administrate the proper allocation of the available slots. And to oversee a significant scholarship program I'd like to set up for the children who will ultimately be living in the complex and using the facilities. Something of an incentive to stay in school and do well."

She gives a small, flat affected smile.

"I've seen the statistics on the outcome of such programs in other major cities. It works. I'd like to be part of the change that can be made. As it is, I can push the construction schedule and get you much needed beds sooner than later as temporary shelter measures."

Batman has posed:
    For a moment his eyebrow cocks at her curiously, "Honestly, any help would be appreciated, Elektra." He looks down at the bartop, then back up at her and his smile tilts a touch more to the embarrassed. "Of course I wouldn't mind making a few phone calls on your behalf. But I can't make too many promises than offering to put the Wayne name behind your efforts and show that you had my support."
    Then he uncurls a hand towards her, "Though for anything more meaningful my business manager, Lucius Fox would have to take a look at things. Me, I tend to... well, I need to have things explained to me a little too often and when it happens it tends to cut into my morning tee times."
    That having been said he sets his drink down and then comes back around with, "But yes, I'm sure ten million would be an awful lot of help. Though for that much I really should temper your expectations."

Elektra has posed:
"Temper my expectations, how?"

The question is an honest one, and delivered with frankness.

"I'm not expecting anythign of you. Though I suppose I'm asking is the Wayne Foundation equiped to administrate projects of that calibre? I'll confess, I'd much rather not look after the minutae if a suitable set of other hands can be found, and I see no sense in doubling up unless necessary."

She looks, for a moment, to be about to lift her glass to her lips again, then pauses, setting the drink down, but keeping her fingers wrapped about it. "Although it is perfectly acceptable to say that their workload already exceeds their capabilities. The offer of the ten million wasn't a bribe. I do hope it wasn't taken as such. I'm merely in a position to do something of immediate effect."

Batman has posed:
    "Well, that much I would expect miracles from someone to pave the way for my efforts," Bruce spreads his hands slightly, as if not entirely understanding. But his smile is almost disarming as he looks so much like a babe in the woods, lost at sea navigating such ins and outs as business deals and endorsements. "But if the Wayne Foundation is equipped? Definitely. I have some very good people around me, Elektra."
    That having been said he reaches into his glass and rather casually takes up a small sliver of ice and pops it into his mouth, crunching it a few times and seeming a bit thoughtful. "I just would want to be sure your money was put to its best use. Right now it's partially funding, but what we really need are boots on the ground, people who are going to be able to give their time and not just volunteers, more people with talents that find these projects engaging. Finding that personnel, well it will just take some time."
    He tilts back towards her, "But if that seems alright I can tell Lucius to keep an ear out that he might be hearing from you soon."

Elektra has posed:
Elektra watches the play of emotions over his features, as much as if deciphering them. Picking them apart for the truths and lies of them. Only, ultimately, she doesn't care. Elektra Natchios, wayward philanthropist, wouldn't care. It was, as she had already put it, just another act she put on. Even if at the heart of it was a guilt ridden attempt to mitigate the other circumstances of her life. To tell herself that all of this - all she was doing - was really for the better.

It was a lie she was learning to believe. Circumstances and all.

"If you hadn't heard, I have more money than God, Bruce. I'm certain some accountant in my employ will feel the need to lecture me on my generosity, as though that weren't but a drop in the bucket. As for bodies, find them. You need money, have your Lucius send me a proposal I can throw in front of my lawyers. I have no desire to reinvent the wheel. For the time being, if you need an honorarium for your Foundation, to facilitate matters until the other is settled, give me a figure. Frankly, you suggest I should want miracles? Then I suppose I do. I'd rather use the time and talent already at your disposal."

Batman has posed:
    A small laugh slips from him and he shakes his head, eyes lowering. He looks into the bottom of his glass and tilts it back, then sets it down on the bar's surface even as he turns back. "Very well, Elektra. Then I suppose all that's left for me to say... is thank you." With that said he extends a hand towards her again, perhaps to seal the deal. And if she should take it he'll lean in to touch a small kiss upon her cheek much as the Europeans do when departing.
    He'll then draw back, eyes finding hers and he tells her gently. "Now find a suitable bottle some time soon and feel free to call me. We'll share it together." That having been said he lowers his head slightly, "Does that sound passingly good to you?" He asks, even as his smile threatens to return.

Elektra has posed:
Her hand is extended, and as if expecting it, much as if it were perfectly natural to seal a deal this way, she leans in for the kiss upon her cheek. It's a dispassionate gesture; perfunctory in its execution.

The gesture over, almost before it's made, Elektra disengages, and stands, regarding him. Her still not much more than halfway done drink sitting upon the bartop. "I would quite enjoy sharing a bottle with you. Though it may take me time to find one suitable to the sentiment."

He's treated to a smile that brushes across her lips, but doesn't do much more than visit her eyes briefly before fading away. "The cheque and what particulars I already have will be couriered to the Wayne Foundation tomorrow, along with the contact of the legal team overseeing the building project. I trust that will be satisfactory?"

Batman has posed:
    "Of course," He says as he turns then to give a small wave, "Thanks as always, Terry."
    To which the bartender smiles and lifts a hand in return, "No worries, Mr. Wayne. Ms. Natchios." He gives a nod to each of them as he collects the drinks and sets to cleaning the bartop where they were seated, since the night is not yet anywhere near being done.
    Another small wave is given to Elektra as he starts to walk away and as he moves, once he is sure that he is suitably far enough away his features will drop and a marginal frown will touch them as he looks slightly to the side. A fingertip comes up rub at the ridge of his ear and a miniature microphone keys to life as he murmurs sub-vocally. "Oracle, I'm going to need everything you can dig up on an Elektra Natchios. Be thorough." That tone of his voice is stern, almost ominous, but as soon as he turns away from that part of his evening he looks back towards the party itself.
    And once again he is all sweetness, innocence, and light. Trust him in all things.