5956/A clown and an Incubus walk into a bar..

A clown and an Incubus walk into a bar..
Date of Scene:	09 December 2018
Location:	Bludhaven
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Harley Quinn, Thomas Raith

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Harley Quinn has posed:
New York isn't exactly Harley's normal stomping ground, but then hey, it's not THAT far from Jersey to the Big Apple. And every now and again, you just gotta go out and get yourself a little vacation time. Especially if the cops are bothering you a little too much.

She's made some concessions to the venue; a silky red dress with black accents covers her oh-so-pale skin, with matching heels. She still has her trademark pigtails, one in pink, one in blue today, as she walks into the club and heads for the bar.

Thomas Raith has posed:
Outside the bouncer, a young hispanic man with twin tomahawks hanging from his belt, only grinned at blonde and gestured her to the front of a rather impressive line, lowering the rope to let her in ahead of some that had been waiting close to an hour, "Joo 'ave a good time no," he promises with a grin.

Inside a black woman with a voice like smoke over still water croons about love found and lost in the city. The bartender, a man who bears a passing resemblance to Bruce Willis in RED only with an eyepatch, nods his acknowledgement of her and continues serving the customer he's with.

Before he can get to her however, a voice comes from her side. The voice belongs to a man better described as pretty then handsome, but he is very very pretty. He tilts his head and offers her a playful grin, "Can I offer you a slow comfortable screw up agienst the wall?"

Harley Quinn has posed:
Harley looks over at the comment, and spends a long moment on the commenter, her eyes taking in the sight from top to toe. She's never been one for the conventional, but she can appreciate pretty when she sees it, and it's a very pretty sight. She stands at the bar rather than easing herself up on a barstool; probably a wise choice given the length of that dress (or the lack thereof).

Her characteristic Jersey accent is certainly prevalent, as she smirks. "Only if ya make sure it comes with a kiss." She knows her drinks. Or her sexual innuendos. Or both.

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith grins wickedly, like a magician confronted by someone who knows the trick, but is willing to play along...and thus wants too make the show that much more spectacular. He steps off his stool and behind the bar, filling a highball glass with ice he expertly mixes half a shot each of Sloe gin and Southern comfort first, "Slow comfortable.." he says in a voice that would carry no further then her ears. He vodka and allot of orange juice, saying "Screw..". He floats Disaronno Originale Amaretto slowly so the colors bleed down through the pour, then Galliano L'Autentico over that. He finishes it with a splash of overproof white rum and an orange slice, sliding it gently over to her. "Up agienst the wall and sealed with a kiss. As the lady requests.

Harley Quinn has posed:
Harley watches, and once the glass is slid over in front of it, she lifts it, lips quirked in a smile. "Cheers!" And then, because it's Harley, half of the glass is downed in a smooth motion. Thanks to Ivy's anti-poison treatment, it's damn near impossible for her to get drunk, so when she's at a bar, restraint is not her watchword.

Well, let's be honest. Restraint is never Harley's watchword.

"So...ya just work here, or ya own the place?" She suspects the latter. She's good at reading people.

Thomas Raith has posed:
"Beautiful and smart, now there is a deadly combination." He says with an easy grin, stopping only to grab a crystal decamter full of dark brown translucent liquid and a highball glass for himself. He pours his own drink and restoppers it, Then he offers her his hand. "I am Thomas Raith, and yes I own and run the Blue Lady."

Harley Quinn has posed:
The pale lady smiles. "Nice ta meetcha." She reaches out a dainty hand, but her shake is almost comedically exaggerated. "Harley Quinn, atcher service." Another sip of her drink. "So, do ya hit on all the blondes in a short dress, or am I just special?" she challenges, a glint in her eye at the verbal banter.

Thomas Raith has posed:
exaggerated or not, the moment their skin touches there is something...nice... about shaking Thomas' hand. Frankly most men can't /kiss/ as good as Thomas shakes hands. He grins just a bit wickedly, shrugging slightly as he lifts his glass to his lips. "CAn't it be both?" he asks with a playful tone. "I mean after all, a beautiful woman, no matter how many beautiful women a man has seen, is always something special."

Harley Quinn has posed:
"Yer good." Harley assesses, before taking her hand back finally. "Surprised ya don't have a whole crowd'a hanger-ons here. Or am I just too early?" All she was expecting was some good music and a drink. This kind of repartee is her bread and butter, though. Mind games are her spice.

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith chuckles a little. There is already I sizable crowd in the club, the cigar girls doing brisk business and the waitresses moving fron table to bar at rapid professional speed. "MAybe I like to keep a low enough profile that I don't gather a crowd.." he grins, "Or maybe I like to choose whose attention I gather. After all you try to focus on ten people all you get is distracted. But you give one woman everything, and well..." He shrugs letting her fill in the rest. "Harley Quinn... Like the romance novels?"

Harley Quinn has posed:
She laughs. "I think yer the one who's outta the romance novels. Think more commedia dell'arte." The place turns a good business, but commonplace robbery is too common for Harley. Besides, the conversation alone has earned the place a stay of any of her criminal leanings. "A person who opens with a sexual innuendo drink offer ain't the kind who likes to keep a low profile. But I could believe the rest." She finishes the last of said sexual innuendo drink, showing no sign at all of the alcohol affecting her.

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith nods slightly at that, in apparent understanding of her meaning. "I was never one for theater I suppose. Well except highschool plays. I good Highschool play is better then Broadway half the time." He says with a grin. He looks at her empty glass and says, "Now I have to admit, that is impressive."I mean she did just down 4 shots of alcohol after all. "And what can I say, when I see someone I want the attention /of/ I like to get all of that attention, as quickly as possible."

Harley Quinn has posed:
Huzzah for bioengineered toxin immunity. "Mmm...I think it's fair to say ya got my attention. Yer the most interesting person in the place. Though I gotta admit, the big question so far is why yer in the place. Goin' with "lazy", so far. Or if I'm bein' sophisticated, we can use "languid"." Her accent is anything but upper class, but she's clearly more educated than it belies.

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith grins a bit, though he adds a bit of Mock-wounded pride to his face as well. "Lazy? Now that's just hurtful. I'll have you know I have all my paperwork caught up for the day. I like to come down after I finish. Enjoy the atmosphere I created." He grins a bit t her adding "Meet interesting people." He is under no illusions that she is anything but smart, after all she knew immediately what a "Slow comfortable screw agienst the wall", meant and she used commedia dell'arte in a sentence."

Harley Quinn has posed:
"Lazy." Harley repeats. "Ya look like a model, ya own the place. If ya just wanted a crowd'a girls, you'd have 'em. Ya don't. If ya were a one-woman man, ya'd have her. Ya don't. Means ya like the chase. But this place, your looks, an' ownin' it? Fish in a barrel. No challenge." A smirk quirks her lips. "Unless yer just lookin' for someone smart enough to see through it. But then, not many of them comin' into a jazz club early in the day. Present company notwithstandin'. So yeah. Lazy." She gives a wink.

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith ohs slightly, amused now and considering her words. He sips his own drink then refills it from the decanter, considering "YOu make some interesting points, some down right accurate. LEt's see.. I do love the chase that is certainly true, and I've never seen myself as a one woman man. Though I do occasionally enjoy knowing that there is a lady I can call to have dinner with and not play all the games. I'm not nessicarilly looking for someone to see through it, though I have to admit it's refreshing." He considers, "But let me challenge your theory. Is a farmer lazier then a hunter? Someone willing to take the time and effort to cultivate a ready easy supply of what he wants and needs, as opposed to hoping to stumble on it by luck?"

Harley Quinn has posed:
"Depends how ya look at it. Lazier? Maybe not. Settin' somethin' like that up can be a lotta hard work." Harley acknowledges. "But definitely less interestin'. There's a reason movies get made about hunters and not farmers. No one wanted to read about Cap'n Ahab and his great white whale farm."

She nods to his refill. "Gonna leave a lady with a dry throat?"

Thomas Raith has posed:
He looks at his decanter and smile, "Now If I gave you some of this, it might totally ruin any mystique I have left.." he says playfully. "So would you like something from behind the bar, or do you want to take another peak behind the curtain?" he asks, curious and just a bit challenging. Like he is trying to puzzle her out as well.

Harley Quinn has posed:
Knowing her ace in the hole when it comes to drinks, Harley's fairly confident. What's more, she likes the challenge, too. "Go for it." She slides her empty glass towards him and the decanter. "Life's too short ta play it safe."

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith shrugs and pours, a smile that is extremely amused coming to his lips but also curious. He honestly has no idea how she will react. He waits for her to taste it... And it's Iced Tea. Extremely sweet, southern style Iced tea. Alcohol level zero, zip, and zilch.

Harley Quinn has posed:
That gets an even more amused grin. "Huh." She swirls her glass once, watching him, intently. "Not a farmer." She says, finally, apparently disagreeing with his earlier statement. "Hunter. But not for the sport of it, either. Hunter who wants the best chance he can get."

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith tilts his head slightly, the corner of his mouth turning up, "You got that from a glass of Iced tea?" he asks curiously as he sips his own, "But if I'm not hunting for the sport of it, what am I hunting for? Food?" he asks that with an amused tone, "Insert sexual innuendo about eating you here, if you like. I just can't bring myself to make a joke that bad."

Harley Quinn has posed:
"Yeah. You own your own bar." Harley explains. "People who own their own bars do it either because they wanna make money, they like the idea'a free drinks, they like dealin' with people, or because it suits a fourth purpose. You're runnin' a jazz club. That's niche. You'd make more money by puttin' TVs on every wall, sellin' bad chicken wings, an' bein a sports bar. So it ain't money. You're drinkin' iced tea. So it ain't the drinks. We already covered you an' girls earlier." Harley is enjoying this analysis.

"So, it's a fourth reason. If you have this place set up for fish in a barrel, an' you're drinkin' ice tea, you want your wits as sharp as can be. So. EITHER this place is a front, an' yer runnin' somethin' else out of it, OR you wanna make damn sure that when you're huntin', it's a hit. Like a deer hunter stakin' out his place with lure, scent, AND decoy."

Thomas Raith has posed:
"Or," and here his eyes twinkle with challenge as he considers, "A Jazz Club crowd certainly attracts a different, and dare I say less rowdy clientèle then a Sports bar. I have to socialize with my patrons, and if I had to match a hundred people a night drink for drink, my liver would rise up and strangle me." not so much shooting down her analysis, but challenging her to hold it up."

Harley Quinn has posed:
"Socialize, sure. But the folks at a jazz club are lookin' for that taste of yesteryear. They don't want ya to sit down an' have a beer with 'em. Hell, I'd bet beer is yer lowest take on your alcohol. The women who come in here are gonna go for wine. The men are gonna go for scotch, or whiskey. That's the kinda people you get in a place like this. An' even then, they don't want ya to sit down and drink. Folks in a place like this wanna interact with two things."

Harley holds up two fingers. "One, the hot number. Either one they brought with 'em, or one they're lookin' to find here. Either way, that crowd doesn't want Mr. Model hornin' in on their work. Two, the crowd that's here for the music. An' sure, they might share a drink with ya, but that crowd ain't drink shooters. They'll sip a scotch for an hour while they listen to the tunes. Either way, you'd go through it slow enough it wouldn't matter. What people who come to a place like this are lookin' for in a host is the "gracious gentleman". An' the gracious gentleman ain't expected to keep up with drinks."

She downs the rest of the tea. "Of course, the gracious gentleman don't open with a sexual innuendo drink offer, either. Which means yer not as worried about how yer perceived as a host. Which means, hunter." Harley replies again.

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith lets her speak, considering her words and even nodding in a few places as she tears his counter argument pretty much to shreds, "Which then means we should look at you, doesn't it Ms. Quinn?" he asks playfully and considers, "You come into a place like this, and go directly to the bar. Most at least linger for a moment debating between the bar or somewhere closer to the stage. So you are maybe here for the atmosphere, or perhaps hoping to be approached, but not the music." He eyes her curiously, "I open with a sexual innuendo, but you recognized it for what it was immediately. Still you chose to be playful rather then offended, or even feign offense. You're obviously an /extremely/ intelligent woman, but I'm willing to bet under normal circumstances you like people to under estimate you, your overly cheerful attitude is disarming and that over eager handshake could only be defined as childish." He refills both of their glasses with tea again, "But most telling, you've identified me as a hunter. A predator. Which per-force would make you the prey. A Smart prey would flee, but instead you challenge. Of course a smart predator would then flee. It's what a predator does when a prey doesn't act the way it expects." He touches his glass to her's, "But instead I'm finding myself all the more curious."

Harley Quinn has posed:
And that gets the biggest gleam from her eyes yet. "Right on the money." she acknowledges his own assessment, because it is on point. The voice, her demeanor, her attire...most things about Harley are designed to get people seeing the fluff, and not the substance. "Girl comes in here, dressed like this, heads for the bar...she's either lookin' for free drinks, or a good time. Usually. But if it was the drinks, I wouldn't be drinkin' ice tea with you..." she taps her glass again. "An' if it were a good time, I'd already be in the sack with ya. Ya got the looks, ya got the charm to pull off that "screw against the wall" line. So I think we're both predators. We just happen ta be lookin' for different things, which makes us not competition."

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith tilts his head a bit, "With one minor caveat or at lest tick to your advantage." He points out casually, "I think it's fair to say we both know what it is that I am hunting for, but just what is it that you are hoping to sink your teeth into Harley?" he asks with that same wicked grin. "After all, a fox and an eagle both hunt rabbits. The difference is an eagle isn't opposed to a nice fox dinner."

Harley Quinn has posed:
"Are ya kiddin'? I already got what I was after." Harley says, that amused smirk on her face. "I haven't had a good chance to really read somebody like this in ages. Back home people tend ta get a little freaked out." Being the Clown Princess of Crime puts some people off. Go figure.

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith laughs, a genuine and honest laugh that is obviously more from the man then from the "character" or whatever you'd call it. "I see, well fair enough." He says amused, "And was I worth it?" he asks curiously, "I mean I'm willing to wager you spent hours getting ready for this. Was the glimpse into my psyche worth the trouble?"

Harley Quinn has posed:
    "Well worth it." She acknowledges. "An' the atmosphere an' the music ain't bad either. Besides, it ain't like you're hard on the eyes." She smirks a little. "I may be intellectual, but I ain't dead. Fair to warn ya, though, I got an awful dangerous on-and-off boyfriend who swings from forgettin' I exist to bein' REAL possessive. Tryin' moves on me is a little like Russian Roulette."

Thomas Raith has posed:
"Well what's life without a little danger? I mean I have to assume if you are here, tonight, alone, then it's off again?" he asks with amusement. "Besides Russian Roulette isn't nearly as dangerous as everyone likes to believe." "So I suppose the most important question I have tonight is this, do you want me to kiss you right now, as much as I want to kiss you?"

Harley Quinn has posed:
Harley grins. "Depends. Do ya kiss as well as ya set all the rest of this up? I'm guessin' yes." She'll lean in a bit over the bar."

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith leans in and lightly brings his his lips to her's. Gentle at first and then slowly more passionate. If Thomas shakes hands as well as some men kiss, well his kiss is...well it's intense. Like someone opening a faucet of pleasure and letting it stream directly into her body. A Stream, but a contained one...as if a hint of the torrent that could be unleashed give just the smallest chance. His fingertips caress her cheek and down her throat, and after an eternity long second he whispers softly agienst her lips "How would you like to see the VIP room?"

Harley Quinn has posed:
Harley closes her eyes, drinking in the sensation like someone might a fine wine. After that, she grins. "After /that/ kiss? Lead the way." she says, stepping back one step from the bar to make ready to move.

Thomas Raith has posed:
Thomas Raith smirks and puts his arm around her, leading her towards the stairs up to the VIP lounge. His arm low on her waist, and his lips laying gentle kisses on her throat still as they head past Crush and up the stairs, out of sight of everyone.