5247/High society networking

From United Heroes MUSH
Jump to navigation Jump to search
High society networking
Date of Scene: 26 August 2018
Location: Gotham City
Synopsis: The Saint Genesius Society of Gotham Society Gala is its usual success, with hefty donations collected from all concerned...
Cast of Characters: Batman, Shadow, Power Girl




Batman has posed:
    The Saint Genesius Society of Gotham Society Gala certainly ranks up there in the high society events of the year. The wealthy and influential from across the Tri-State Area come together to pour money into a charity that funds the thriving theatre arts scene. The dining tables are set out in an orderly half-circle around the parquet wood floor, where dancing couples spin and twirl to the strings of Shostakovich's Second Waltz. Several well-dressed waiters dispense flutes of champagne as well as accepting donations into tasteful silver trays. A small dais has been set up at one end of the room, beneath a banner bearing the Society's name.

    At one of the more fanciest tables, all the diners have swept off to dance and mingle save for two. Bruce Wayne leans back easily in his chair, looking sidelong at Damian with a lazy half-smile. He doesn't say anything, instead he watches his son for a moment and then sweeps a steely blue gaze out across the rest of the room. The champagne flute on the table rests between two of his fingers, untouched but nursed for the better part of an evening.

Shadow has posed:
    Natasha's look of wide-eyed and mildly vapid fascination is only partially feigned; the last time she was in New York she was still far too young to accompany her parents, even though they attended religiously and always spoke highly of how much they enjoyed it -- a fact she can't quite seem to stop sharing with the people sitting by her, some of whom are starting to wear that strained smile of people wanting not to offend the wealthy idiot whose family's donations traditionally only came in second to the Wayne Foundation's.

    She's raising her glass to the waiter for a champagne refill as Bruce's gaze passes over her, a girasol ring glinting on her finger and seeming almost out of place with the tasteful yet obviously ludicrously expensive dress she wears...

Power Girl has posed:
    Karen Starr is... Not the typical sort of patron for any kind of High Society engagement. In contrast to most others, she's dressed somewhat... Down. Her blonde hair is kept down, obscuring her face somewhat despite looking just a little too pristine, even as it drapes to her mid-back. Clearly not the sort whose last name is the source of their wealth- at least initial wealth- the name of Starr is one without a history. All of its context comes from Karen herself, a lowly computer programmer turned CEO of STAR Labs.

    Her presence is a little mystifying, like DeGrasse Tyson attending the royal wedding. Still, her wealth justifies it, as does the amount of press that STAR Labs receives, even though her outfit is doing her no favors.

    It is formal- the kind of formal that fits, though it isn't necessarily well styled, and she herself has the sort of difficult-to-flatter figure that befits decorations to hide most of her. She's doing her best to socialize, though- Except... She snorts when she laughs, and is likely the only person there who has chosen to wear her glasses to the engagement.

Batman has posed:
    Bruce raises a finger to Damian and mouths 'one minute' before he stands up from his chair, still nursing the champagne flute as he goes. He picks up another glass as he passes a waiter, depositing it in Natasha's waiting hand and removing the empty in one deft move. He doesn't break stride, attempting to gently usher her out of her seat as he makes his way towards Karen.

    "Come on," he says, "we all paid far too much per plate to just sit at our tables." He arrives near Karen, looking back in the hope that Natasha has followed, "You can't be socialites without the social. I'm Bruce Wayne."

Shadow has posed:
    Natasha's eyes widen with unfeigned surprise -- but then again, what woman /wouldn't/ be surprised at sudden Bruce Wayne? She composes herself with reasonable celerity and grace, rising from her chair to follow him, implicit invitation accepted.

    "Oh, I'm sure everyone knows who you are, Mister Wayne," she replies as he introduces himself, just a hint of alcoholic cheerfulness in her voice. "Natasha Cranston. I must admit I'm still feeling a bit new to all this after having been away so long..."

Power Girl has posed:
    Ever the tactful one- because this is how it's supposed to be- Karen Starr acknowledges Bruce's approach as if she isn't in his city, at his party- because with the amount of money Bruce puts into things like this, even though it's thrown by a society, it is still -his- party. She's talking up some poor socialite, discussing matters of computer science and physical science that even most enthusiasts would have dismissed as boring or inane. Sadly, this is a polite affair, and it would be rude to ask her to stop.

    Eventually, though, the CEO herself manages to properly notice the billionaire. Her reaction might almost be refreshing, to be sure, save that it's a little... Mildly obnoxious. "Oh! You're uh... You're-" the fact that it takes her a second to get the name is almost if not unbelievable, and is brought to a swift close by the woman she was chatting with exclaiming a rather happy "Bruce Wayne!" before Karen could do so.

Batman has posed:
    "Last time I checked, that's me," Bruce says with a broad smile, gesturing for the group to sit with him at one of the nearby unoccupied tables. He moves to take a sip of his champagne but stops, interrupted by some sudden thought.

    "I'm Bruce Wayne. And you're Karen Starr," he gestures towards Natasha now, "And /this/ is Natasha Cranston of Cranston Multinational - an outfit that has been giving my good friend Mark Vanburen at Wayne Shipping quite a few sleepless nights." For a moment, Bruce looks stern before his face cracks into a grin once again, "But he could use the trouble. I wouldn't want to think I was paying him to look pretty and shoot an eighty-five at Pine Valley."

    He leans back for a moment with the champagne flute, drumming his fingers against the side of it thoughtfully, "And now we all know each other, we can talk about the real issues. Such as who on Earth thought using the word society twice in the same banner was a good idea?"

Shadow has posed:
    Natasha laughs delightedly, her voice a rich and sultry thing even as a slight quaver of mild inebriation makes itself known. "In that case, let me just say I'm delighted to be a bother," she replies before smiling at her own joke, holding out her hand for Bruce to kiss before turning her smile on Karen.

    "And Miss Starr! I've heard so much about your company, but I never expected to meet you here in person! I must say, your photos don't half do you justice," she quips with a wink she probably thinks is clever innuendo, then continues. "Of course, with that awful fungus destroying so much farm land, I'm sure S.T.A.R. Labs' agricultural division is doing good business helping farmers recover..."

Power Girl has posed:
    Karen nods along at the introductions. She reaches out to shake Natasha's hand in much the way you really don't normally, and if either of the two knew how incredible the amount of control it took to do so safely was, they might be slightly impressed! Maybe. Either way, she speaks to Natasha first.

    "Oh yes! Now, admittedly, the fungus didn't leave the farmland salted, so it was more a matter of genetically engineering some versions of the plants that, while a -lot- more difficult to farm, produce a larger quantity of seeds for harvest. The real trick was reverting the genetic modifications on following generations, so that they could be farmed normally without increasing the workload for the people in question, because it'd be -really- difficult to maintain those fields past the first generation, I assure you."

    She's pretty hard to stop. Somebody should, but it's sort of a monumental task, as she floats without proper segue into Bruce's comment.

    "I just kind of thought that it was a 'society gala' and that someone was a stickler for calling it that. Though really I had no idea that there were different kinds of galas. I haven't been to a lot of them before, so I don't know how many kinds there are."

    Someone. Please help.

Batman has posed:
    Bruce takes Natasha's hand in his and kisses it with all the savoir-faire of the European aristocracy, chuckling quietly at the joke. He turns his full attention to the conversation between the two, nodding his head thoughtfully as he takes in what is said. Something about the way he knits his brow and frowns thoughtfully suggests that he doesn't quite follow it.

    "And of course, her photos don't do her justice," he says of Karen, "I don't think they've invented the camera yet that could - unless that's something else you've got in the works in those labs of yours? I'm sure it puts WayneTech to shame."

    The champagne flute that he hasn't seemed to take a sip from at all is now, inexplicably, empty. He places the empty glass on the tables and waves to a passing waiter, "More all round. This /particular/ gala is of the sort that has an open bar."

Shadow has posed:
    Natasha smiles as she accepts another glass from the approaching waiter. "One of their better spending decisions. I heartily approve," she comments, a smile glinting in her eyes as she takes a sip.

Power Girl has posed:
    It's Bruce's fault, really. She'd gone so long without having to laugh, and then he goes and tries to flatter her. At his comment, she seems to be uproariously amused, giving off this halfway-hyena like chuckle followed by a small snort at the end. Afterwards, she adjusts her glasses, she offers this playful slap to the billionaire's chest.

    Taking a glass of wine- which, already, ought to be some level of illegal considering how socially inept she is- she takes a larger gulp off it, not bothering to smell it or... Well, perform any of the usual champagne etiquette.

    "Oh no, we're not making any heavily scientifically advanced personal cameras. However, we have put together several scientific measuring instruments that may yet revolutionize how we view the matter all around us."

Batman has posed:
    "All that matters around /me/ right now, are two business rivals who are so charming I forget they both hold the lion's share of a market that my Board would probably prefer be solely within the Wayne Enterprises Portfolio." Another pause, and Bruce is grinning again, "But none of them happen to be /here/ and since /I/ own the company ... I've decided against industrial espionage. Now, come on, I've never tried to waltz with two people at once, but I figure if there were any place to do it, it would be here. Saint Genesius was the patron saint of comedians, after all." He gets to his feet, marching purposefully towards the dance floor after having somehow drained his glass again without actually draining it.

Shadow has posed:
    Natasha laughs again, possibly a little louder and a little longer than the joke really deserved, then graciously takes Bruce's hand. "Really? From what the tabloids say it wouldn't remotely be the first time you tried..." she teases as she moves to one side to make room for Karen.

Power Girl has posed:
    Karen lets loose another bewildering assault of laughter, clearly some form of tipsy that, while exaggerated, could be clearly chalked up to her having a low tolerance for alcohol. In reality, it's just the most believable form of tipsy that she's found.

    "Oh, no, I really really shouldn't dance. It'd be a terrible idea, I'm like a -rhino-, I'd probably step on both of your feet!" she exclaims, shaking her head. Her stepping on toes would be... Just slightly south of disastrous. As well, a regular person experiencing what it's like to try and -move- her would leave a lot of questions.

Batman has posed:
    "I'll be absolutely honest," Bruce says to Natasha as they depart for the dance floor, "I have tried before. Often to tabloid-worthy results. These things don't have quite so many cameras, but I'm sure some society columnist will be talking about it tomorrow. That's Deborah Rembert over there. She's close to Rhonda Harned at the Gazette. I hope you aren't averse to a little publicity."

Shadow has posed:
    Natasha smirks slightly as she takes Bruce's hand and accompanies him, then turns gracefully into his arms when they reach the dance floor. "People who say there's no such thing as bad publicity haven't been on the receiving end of one of Lois Lane's editorials," she replies. "I've read some of Miss Harned's attempts at incisive journalism. We'll probably be fine."

    With that, she places one hand on Bruce's shoulder, moving seamlessly into the steps of Shostakovich' Second Waltz.

    As they move, her fingers tighten briefly on his shoulder and she raises an eyebrow as she notices the muscle where she'd half expected shoulder padding, but she refrains from commenting other than a smile...

Batman has posed:
    Bruce smiles distantly, completely unaware of the mildly shock of his musculature and sweeps into the waltz. There is not a single misstep. Not a turn out of place. He moves with grace unbefitting an idle billionaire who, by the size of him, must spend every waking hour in the gym. But as precise as the waltz is, he speaks all the while as though moving out of pure habit rather than any sort of concentration.

    "Oh, now, don't be too hard on Rhonda. She?s really not all that bad." He smiles a little, nodding as someone says his name while the pair of them twirl past but not letting it detract from this particular conversation. He looks impressed, raising his eyebrows: "You're a very fine dancer."

Shadow has posed:
    "Chantemerle prides itself on providing a well rounded education," Natasha murmurs in response with a smile and just a hint of pride. "The instructor was personally more fond of the Blaue Donau, but she made sure we'd know the steps to all of them well enough to bring no disgrace on the school's name. You're quite good yourself, as it happens..."

    Her voice trails off as her fingers on Bruce's shoulder wander along one of the more prominent scars. "... That must have been one hell of a fall," she comments with raised eyebrow. "I'm honestly surprised you still go rock climbing as often as you do, given the number of times you've been reported to have had an accident in the tabloids..."

Batman has posed:
    "Yale isn't so much for the refinement," Bruce admits, "they expect you to show up already refined. But it's amazing what you pick up here and there. You dance with wealthy dowager after banking heiress after what-have-you and you learn to be swift or get scuff marks on your Salvatore Ferragamos."

    He laughs as she touches the scar, a good-natured and self-deprecating laugh without any sign of ill humor, "When you love something, you do it. I'd rather say I freeclimbed Denali and fell than say I spent a few more hours in the office. Life's not defined by the things you don't do."

Shadow has posed:
    Natasha laughs at Bruce's response, loud enough to catch an annoyed glare from the nearest couple, but not so loud as to disrupt the rest of the room. "Well said, Mr. Wayne," she replies as she expertly twirls through the interlude. "A very true sentiment. I've always wanted to take up diving; perhaps I should, now that things have quieted down a bit again on the home front..."

Batman has posed:
    "It's a good excuse," Bruce says, locking blue eyes on hers for a moment with an enigmatic half-smile that turns just as quickly into an easy grin, "To get out of the office, I mean. If Cranston has a board of directors anything like mine they'd chain you to the desk if they could. Are you ready?" He doesn't wait for her response, instead twirling Natasha at a clip as they pass down a brief, impromptu corridor created by the separation of several dancing couples. He laughs as they go.

Shadow has posed:
    "Oh, when I first showed up I'm sure they'd have preferred it if I stayed gone," she replies, and there's just a bit more teeth in that smile than is entirely appropriate for polite conversation -- but then again, the fact that she fired half the board on the spot on her first day is very well known. "Winning the respect of the remainder took a lot of work; crass as it seems to be glad of someone else's misfortune, the Tidepool crisis was at least a good opportunity for that..."

    She trails off, remaining silent during the twirls until the interlude finishes and the walts resumes, continuing with a slightly wan smile. "Besides, regardless of what progress has been made, the rules are still different for men and women in our position. If you were to skive off a meeting to go rock climbing or skydiving, there would be some minor tut-tutting in the press drowned out by breathless articles about how awesome it must be to be /that/ rich. On the other hand, if I were to do the same, I'd be a frivolous woman who doesn't take the responsibilities of a CEO seriously, CMS would suffer a stock drop and I'd be facing a no-confidence vote if the Board actually had the authority to call for one..."

Batman has posed:
    "A lamentable truth, Ms Cranston," Bruce admits with a sigh, sinking back into a more subdued waltz as the music begins to reach its end, "I suppose I have the added benefit of being Bruce Wayne. Nobody really expects me to take the wheel. I imagine if I did there would be a few stock dips on my end, too. Lucius Fox may well have a coronary if that bowtie doesn't strangle him to death first. I'm kidding about that. Honestly, I wish I could do a bowtie half as much justice as he does."

    As the music winds up, he glances towards the large glass doors leading out onto the balcony overlooking a twilit Gotham, "Would you like to get some air?"

Shadow has posed:
    "Some fresh air sounds lovely," Natasha replies, curtseying at the end of the waltz, then easily turning to move next to Bruce and let him take her arm. "I won't say that being a Cranston doesn't come with its own perks; certainly the wealth to do whatever I want is a very nice one. There are some constraints of duty, of course, but aren't there always?"

Batman has posed:
    Bruce makes a show of putting on a shiver at the notion of duty, "Don't use the 'D' word. Brr. If I'm absolutely honest, I'm here because my mother was on the board and the Wayne Foundation put a sizable sum towards keeping the Genesius Society afloat every year. That's about as close as I come to duty."

    As they reach the balcony, he steps forward and plants his hands on the railing. He lets the breeze catch his face and looks out over the city. There's something else there for the briefest of split seconds. A sense of ease that makes his put-upon air of carelessness seem just that for the first time. But then as quickly as it came it is gone, "I like the view out here."

Shadow has posed:
    "I can see why," Natasha comments, taking a sip from a champagne flute that she appears to have purloined on the way to the balcony. "The city looks so much more quiet at night," she muses, breathing deeply of the night air for a moment.

Batman has posed:
    "It does."

    Bruce looks out into the evening, the sun barely a hint of a glow on the horizon at this point. Down below, average Gothamites set to work at getting home as soon as they can. Except, of course, those who make their living when the city dips into evening. Bruce grips the railing a little tigher, turning back around to face Natasha a little wide-eyed and woozy-looking, "I probably should've eaten something before I had that champagne. I think I might need to call it a night."

Shadow has posed:
    Natasha gives Bruce a look of concern as she instinctively leans in to support Bruce's weight if need be. "Are you certain you're all right? Please tell me you're not planning to drive home by yourself if you're feeling this woozy..."

Batman has posed:
    "I may climb mountains even though I have a habit of falling off them," Bruce says simply, "But I'm not quite so foolhardy to think I can drive when I'm sauced. Butler, my Alfred -- "

    He laughs at the mix up of words and waggles his tongue as though to untwist it, "Alfred'll be downstairs with the Rolls. I do appreciate the concern, though. Are you sure you don't want to come by for a nightcap?" His words aren't particularly slurred, but he does miss his footing just slightly as he walks back towards the ballroom.

Shadow has posed:
    Natasha smirks, relaxing slightly as she realizes his condition isn't too serious. "It seems like you've already had a few nightcaps too many," she murmurs sotto voce as she guides him through the ballroom and toward the vestibule without quite looking like she's supporting a staggering near-drunk.

Batman has posed:
    "When you're right, you're right. I can't argue there."

    Bruce leans into Natasha as she leads him downstairs, through the lobby and out to the foyer where an immaculately-kept Rolls Royce Phantom IV waits with the door held open by a respectable looking gentleman in a suit and chauffer's cap. As they approach, Bruce turns to Natasha and says: "You really are a wonderful dancer. They have about five hundred of these things a year ... do you think you'll venture across the river for another one? I'd love to pick up the conversation again sometime soon. Very soon."

    Even as he says this, Bruce half-topples and half-sits on the back seat of the Rolls. He lets out a sigh, "I could definitely eat ... "

Shadow has posed:
    "I think I could be tempted to visit again," Natasha replies with a smile as she smoothly hands Bruce over to his long-suffering butler. "You probably should, but I recommend something that you're certain you won't be seeing again the next morning... Good night, Mister Wayne. I think I'll be going home as well. It was a pleasure to meet you."

    With that and a nod at Alfred, she turns to leave, heading for a slightly less expensive limo waiting for her a bit down the road...

Batman has posed:
    Bruce half-rolls into the back seat of the limo, and the door is closed and the car halfway down the street before the act ends. He sits up in the back seat, immediately pulling down the back of the side opposite him and revealing a number of articles lit by a row of red LEDs. A batsuit, in pieces. He undoes his tie, tossing it into the footwell as he begins the slow process of donning complex body armor in the back suit of a moving Rolls Royce.

    "She seemed a charming young woman, sir," Alfred says, glancing briefly into the rear view mirror. As he does, this gives Bruce a moment of pause. He looks up from the suit, his expression thoughtful and entirely rid of the half-vapid drunkeness of a few moments ago.

    "She was ... interesting. Very interesting. Run a level two investigation of Natasha Cranston and Cranston Multinational. Something isn't adding up."

    Bruce pauses a moment, shrugging off his shirt and beginning to slip on the undersuit portion of his outfit, "Drop me off in Robinson. Picked something up on the wire during the gala."

    And so, the car disappears into the Gotham night. Bruce Wayne departs, and the Batman emerges from the shadows once again ...

Shadow has posed:
    "... Was that Bruce Wayne you were helping stagger out of the party, boss?" Benny asks, adjusting his cap. His driver's uniform is well tailored, and he's done his own best to clean up significantly, but there's no disguising his Brooklyn accent."

    "It was," Natasha replies, leaning back. "He's not nearly the idiot the tabloids like to make him out to be, but he doesn't seem to hold his liquor nearly as well as I'd have expected."

    Benny snorts as he smoothly pulls out of the driveway. "The way he's supposed ta party? No way he hasn't built a tolerance. Maybe he was puttin' on an act?"

    Natasha opens her mouth to respond, but 'That's ridiculous' dies in her throat as she thinks about what she's saying. "... You have a point. I may have to look into that sometime... But for now, back to the manor. I have a few things to collect before I get to work tonight..." After all, evil never sleeps. And neither does the Shadow...