3815/What Could Go Wrong

What Could Go Wrong
Date of Scene:	07 February 2018
Location:	Stately Wayne Manor
Synopsis:	Damian's friends come over for a play date.
Cast of Characters:	87, Alfred Pennyworth, Brick, Robin (Wayne)

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Vorpal (87) has posed:
After multiple joking and teasing about 'the boys' 'crashing' the Wayne Manor, it finally happened- somehow, against all possible odds, they had received an invitation to see Damian at the manor.

Of course, it wouldn't do for Vorpal and Brick to actually drive up and walk in- secret identities had to be maintained. So Vorpal comes in as his human self, Tommy Hunter, who has a feeble reason for knowing Damian... maybe. His father works in media, and there is the hint of a possiblity that maybe he did something Wayne-related back in the day? Brick probably has a better backstory thought up.

"It's... a bloody big house," the Cheshire cat mutters under his human illusion as he and Brick approach the manor. The car they're driving is spiffied up with an illusion to make it look like something someone driving towards the property would drive.

In reality, it's Tommy's car, purchased exclusively for his college needs. It's not a bad car, per se... but it is getting to be so old that, at this point, anyone who were to be run over by the car would be more likely to die of tetanus than any serious collision injury.

After being allowed into the grounds comes the bit about walking to the front door. Tommy looks at himself to make sure he's rememebred to make himself presentable instead of his usual 'college kid outfit #25' illusion, which is his default. Check. The thing about your wardrobe being illusory is that you can wear your most comfortable clothes and just illusion them up... like that time he attended one of his dad's company fundraisers in his pajamas over Christmas.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     It's a beautiful day, for Gotham standards. There are birds in the trees and clear sky's save for the occasional cloud of smog floating on the horizon. The sun shines brightly overhead glimmers of sunbeams shining through the trees and the hedgerows illuminate the grounds of stately Wayne manor.

     It's a bit cold out, but that's nothing to ruin the evening as everything seems to have settled into its place. The massive wrought iron gates close behind the two, just in time for a set of two gunshots to ring out into the air. Shards of pottery scatter to the ground as a clay pigeon is decimated by gunfire. Two shells clatter out to the ground, and another two shots ring out through the peaceful mansion.

     Today was a good day, especially for Alfred who was feeling quite pleased with himself. His aim rang true as it ever did, and the evenings chores had passed like a breeze. The only thing left was to enjoy the evening. At least until his attention was drawn to the two approaching the home.

Brick has posed:
Brick is wearing the outfit he normally wears to Star Labs formal functions like board meetings and Holiday Season Parties: a custom fitted slightly futuristically styled suit jacket and slacks with vest and casual-looking but ornately tied tie. He met Damian and some other people through a Star Labs participation in a charity function, but frankly, he doesn't care who knows who he is.

Gotham looks revelatory today, with actual light reaching parts of it, and Stately Wayne Manor is looking not just stately but statuesque. Brick mutters to Maire Boit.

"Snapshot please. This is just too gorgeous, right?"

*PingPINGping* is the reply as the image is recorded in full 460 degrees and 8 dimensions.

"Tommy, you did say we're expected, right?"

Robin (Wayne) has posed:
     Damian had finally given into the wishes of his friends, and invited them to stately Wayne Manor. While Bruce was away, and Alfred was looking to shoot clay pigeons, Damian had been off by himself, preparing for the arrival.

  Standing in the rather long driveway, was Damian, dressed in black, seemingly doing a Johnny Cash impression. The teen in the driveway stares at the car that approaches, not threateningly, but definitely with intent.

Vorpal (87) has posed:
"Of course. I am totallly sure I remembered to confirm with Damian." Tommy frowns as he makes his way up to the manor, and stops in his tracks for a second before adding "I am pretty sure I did, anyways. Stardust wanted to come, but she's off doing that thing-"

He blinks and looks at the Wayne scion waiting for them at the driveway, and quickly does an aside to Brick:

"We're going to have to improve his fashion sense. He looks like Wednesday Addams' secret admirer, you know."

The car stopped, he gets out and stretches briefly before making his way to greet his friend.

"You know, it's so weird seeing your face..." he says by way of greeting, with a grin. It dawns on him that ninety percent of the time, Damian has his mask on.

The Cheshire cat becomes aware of the man who is paying attention to them, and he also shoots a smile in Alfred's direction. He also waves, because it's polite. Right?

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     Alfred is dressed in his usual suit and tie, with white gloves. His figure is somewhat naturally imposing with the double barreled twelve gauge in hand. With the shotgun shouldered he takes a deep bow to acknowledge Vorpal, and brick.

     With calm precision he flips the shotgun around his hand, before slotting it back into a holster on his back with grace and poise. Less then a moment later he's making his way out towards the group of young men.

Brick has posed:
"Yes, well, it's better than Pugsley Addams' secret admirer I suppose."

Though to be honest, Brick more than half suspects that Wednesday and Puggsley would both be Damian's overt admirers, really. He's totally the best at Wake the Dead. Speaking of Wake the Dead, who knew that the Waynes employed a Combat Butler? Makes sense, really, for them to hire multi-taskers, given the ridiculous amounts of money involved. There's ... actually not nearly enough obvious bodyguards and staff around, to be honest.

"Hello, Damian. Good to meet you outside the stifling constraints of society parties."

That earns a snarky *ping* from Maire Boit, which Brick ignores because why would he be pinging?

Robin (Wayne) has posed:
     Damian gives a nod to Tommy, responding dryly. "Check your newsstand, they have a shot of me at the Humane Society benefit." The young Wayne motions to Alfred. "This is Alfred, my family's most trusted..." He was going to say butler, but Alfred was much more than that. "he's one of us."

  Damian seems very off here, without his uniform, and having dropped the guise of the Damian Wayne everyone else sees. "Alfred, this is Tommy and Brick, two of my...friends." He delivers in a stoic voice.

Vorpal (87) has posed:
One of us. One of us. Tommy, to his eternal credit, does not bring up the reference. But he does ponder, very briefly, if Alfred could have been one of the Robins at one point, mostly because that is how his mind works.

He shudders briefly at the mental image, and then smiles.

"It is so nice to meet you, Sir." He could add 'Damian has said so much about you' but it wouldn't be true. Damian doesn't say a lot about anything, or at least that is by Tommy's standards, and it would be safe to say that Tommy probably says too much about everything by Damian's standards.

"Oh, where are my manners..." he takes something out of his pocket- a little case, and hands it over to Damian. "Just a little thing." Because he heard that it was traditional to bring little tokens while visiting people who usually live in mansions.

It's a fountain pen, because he got vetoed on every single idea that was a little out of the norm. But he did get final victory by the fact that, although it was an elegant fountain pen, it was also a Cheshire Cat fountain pen from a rather quaint antique store in New York.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     Coming to a halt Alfred gives a low nod of his head. For someone who'd just been skeet shooting he looks to be in perfectly pristine condition, from the mirror polished shoes to the pure white gloves.

     "As a butler I strive to make every encounter as undesirable as humanly possible as to drive away anyone who might wish to stay for an extended period of time." He states rather out of the blue "So clearly if it's nice to meet me I'm not doing my job nearly well enough." He pauses. "I do suppose I'll have to try harder to make a negative first impression with Master Damian's next batch of cohorts." He speaks with such outright confidence and gravitas that it makes it incredibly difficult to tell if he's joking, or being dead to rights serious.

     His body language is difficult to read with very little being stated by his overly reserved motions. He looks over the two for a moment of silence sizing them up before adding. "In any case welcome to Wayne Manor."

Brick has posed:
Brick has read up on his Miss Manners, and while this isn't a dinner or anything, it does technically qualify for a level 1 gift. Tommy's gotten a Cheshire Cat fountain pen, which is too perfect, after being told "NO!" about the Ronald McDonald Comemmorative Plates, the Bats Of the World coffee table book (almost the size of a coffee table) and the Assorted Nuts (and Bolts) gift box. Brick has brought a sonic screwdriver. Discreet, functional, and it has an LED light so one can pretend it's a flashlight.

"Brick Marsten," he says introductorially, as the Combat Butler closes in. "And thank you. It's lovely today."

Robin (Wayne) has posed:
Damian accepts the gifts, though, the Cheshire Cat pen gets a bit of a sigh from Damian. "Alfred, the second coming wouldn't have stopped my friends from asking to visit the mansion. Despite the shogun, and my armaments collection, and my protests."

  The teen starts leading the group into the mansion interior, picking up his kitten once they enter. "This is Abbadon." He offers while scratching the rare male calico.

Vorpal (87) has posed:
"The secnd coming? We haven't even finished the first visit, Damian. One step at a time." The cheshire cat offers an unflappable grin at Alfred's comments and proceeds to follow Damian into the mansion proper. The dryness of the butler would usually prompt Tommy to say 'yes, he is definitely one of them', but he did promise to be on his best behavior.

"Abbadon. Hey there-" he says, about to reach over and pet the cat, but seems to think better about it. He is not quite sure how other cats react to his presence. They can probably sense that he isn't... well, human. He hasn't had much of a chance to find out, since his apartment does not allow cats nor dogs.

Oh, if they knew...

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     "Ah Jesus, forgive me for not recognizing you sooner." Alfred offers dryly before walking in himself, making sure everyone has entered the mansion before closing the door behind. Once the door is closed he makes his way off to one side, entering into a side room for a few moments.

     When he comes back out there's no longer a shotgun on his back, and there's a large tray of cookies in his grasp. The cookies themselves are shaped into Bats, and Robins, given the Christmas cookie treatment. Of course it's a little late for Christmas cookies, but it's never too late for fresh cookies.

Brick has posed:
Brick does not attempt to pet cats without them inviting him to do so ... which of course makes him more popular with them. He is appropriately polite about the mansion, but his mind is about 3/4 elsewhere. Specifically, on his physics dissertation. He's mentally reviewing the different bits of data from his latest attempt to synthesize a fundamental particle that has lepton qualities out of leftover gluons from quark anti-quark annihilation. Unfortunately, it's a dead end and he knows it is, so he has to remove it from the dataset and see if it will stand without that. It means there's some ugly ambiguities and there should be only beautiful ambiguities.

*ping* Maire Boit says quietly. But he ignores it, focused, and the 1/3 of his attention that's on the outside world is coming off as a bit, well, dumb-jock-like. If he were taller it would be an inescapable thing.

Cookies? These are quite decent. Do they have a shape? Possibly, think about it later.

Robin (Wayne) has posed:
     Damian gives Abbadon a smile, scratching behind his ears. The bat cookies and the robins garner a scoff, but he takes a small bat off the tray. Abbadon makes his way around to Brick, rubbing against his leg as cats oft do. "Well, you've seen the mansion, tour is over, thanks for coming." Damian says swiftly, though obviously a joke, or at least his attempt at one.

Vorpal (87) has posed:
"No can do, the rules clearly state that no tour is complete without sliding down the banister of an absurdly long staircase or similar shenanigans usually considered traditional in this sort of situation. I am sure Alfred will back me up on this." Tommy is completely unflappable in the face of Alfred's dryness. Perhaps it is the fact that the butler reminds him very much of the Mock Turtle. Or perhaps simply it is due to the fact that he has no shame.

"I want to see your room. I will be incredibly surprised if there isn't a suit of armor. Or if you don't have at least //one// resident ghost in the Manor."

He looks at Alfred, green eyes brimming with hope. "You /do/ have a ghost, don't you? It is part of every self-respecting manor."

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     Alfred holds the tray out for long enough that if anyone wants a cookie they can have their fill, before moving to one side to set down the metal tray. As tray meets table he speaks up again. "Of course, we've the ghost of Artimas Finch, an eleventh century painter who was murdered on the eve of Bastille day by the lord Byron Wayne." He comes back to a stand.

     "He was cast out from the court prior to his murder in a plot to usurp his mass fortune earned through the sale of horse carts to the upper middle class." He motions with his hands. "It's said in the dead of night he roams the halls of Wayne Manor, searching for the dastardly lord who plotted a murder most foul against him, and if he catches you, he'll force you to relive the pain of his last moments for all eternity."

Brick has posed:
*ping* Maire Boit says, but Brick isn't paying attention and thus whatever her observations about ghosts might or might not be present, goes unreported. There is a cookie, eat it. There is a kitten, give him scritches but do not eat him. There should be tea, if this were more than an attempt to keep the "young folk" from eating the furniture. Although whether they observe the same schedule here as in some other places, Brick isn't paying attention to note. To be honest, Brick's barely in control of his body right now. Maire Boit is running it on remote control, keeping him at least looking like he's present, and keeping him from drooling on himself.