6872/Socializing At Club Mjolnir

Socializing At Club Mjolnir
Date of Scene:	12 March 2019
Location:	New York City
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Hela, Silver Sable, Catwoman

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Hela has posed:
It hasn't been long since Wilson Fisk announced the opening of Club Mjolnir, and it already has seen surprising success, considering the dangerous location in Hell's Kitchen. One aspect is that the place is well guarded, another aspect that's likely less familiar to most, is that nobody would dare cross the Kingpin. Then there's the element of curiosity, people having a chance to run into 'Miracle Elle', the Scandinavian woman who caught fame in the media and online for healing people during the horrors of the Black Sleep.

As it happens Elle tends to stand out, despite her 5' slender frame, mostly for her unusual, vivid makeup, and the Goth inspired manner of dress. Her black brocade strap jacket, and black top, standing out with the embroidered Norse runes. The featery cuffs on her sleeves, and the array of rings, including two full finger ones with taloned tips. Around her neck is a leather strap with a Valknut pendant.

While patrons enjoy their meals or drinks served in the very unsuaul if theme fitting drinking horns, Elle is walking up and down along the long rows of mead hall styled benches at the center of the room, making sure to share some words when sought, and give an autograph or partake in a selfie here and there.

The music about the club is Nordic, which contributes to the whole atmosphere, many do go in to feel like they've been transported back in time.

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver Sablinova doesn't do the 'goth' thing. For her it's office attire. Slim-fit trousers in black and a matching jacket, the cut more masculine and militarized than a traditional women's office dress might require. But a few little touches feminize the hard edges, including low black pumps. All this worn under a knee-length silver overcoat that looks like luxury intended for hard use, and which has been lovingly maintained.

She steps into the door and promptly moves to one side, clearing the pathway and giving her eyes a few seconds to adjust. One hand lifts to tuck some of her neck-length silver hair behind one ear while she considers the seating arrangements, or waits for someone to come along and seat her.

Catwoman has posed:
There is soon another visitor to Club Mjolnir, one who would probably not be expected under most circumstances. A leather catsuit. A cowl with cat ears. A pair of tinted goggles, hiding the color of the eyes. Clawed gloves. No whip, however.

The woman that enters and saunters her way inside looks every bit the spitting image of none other than Catwoman, the notorious Gotham City catburglar!

But...is it truly her, or just a very good replica...?

Hela has posed:
Something unusual happens when Silver Sablinova walks into the club, which doesn't often happen, and that is that Elle of all people seem to turn towards the door when she walks in. Elle isn't usually one to get distracted on a whime, but now she speaks soft apology to the group of men who took a picture with her and moves towards Silver. Well, not necessarily, she is moving towards the entrance after all, it's just that Silver had just walked in.

She does pause halfway to the door, when another walks in, casting a very curious look at the woman dressed boldly in a cat motiff, she smirks to herself, and then continues her approach, her eyes shifting from the strangely dressed woman to Silver once again. "Welcome to Club Mjolnir," she speaks to all newcomers without addressing anyone in particular, "I hope you can enliven your spirits with the taste and feel of Norse boldness."

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver glances at Elle once on approach. Eyes flicker up, down, sideways. She moves a little more aside when Catwoman walks in. The catsuited woman gets a flickering assessment, her outfit a little atypical even for the goth crowd.

Silver's the sort of woman to keep her back to a wall at all times.

She focuses back on Elle again, and a silver brow quirks. "I was sure this was some tasteless American chain bar," she tells Elle. Something in the silver-haired warrior tweaks, however subconsciously, to a kindred sort of spirit in the bar wench. "But this is.... like the pubs of Estonia. My family, Oeselians in the distant past." Fists clench and rise as she inhales the scent of mead and meat and old, worn wood. "Where is the proprietor? I almost wish to pay respects!" she says, and emits a short chuckle in lieu of a laugh.

Catwoman has posed:
Catwoman makes a show of looking a little nervous in here, as if she's unsure of what she's stepping into. Her eyes hint at this, at a certain guardedness, like she could be in some danger depending on whose eyes she catches. There's a silvery-haired woman ahead of her, and a shorter woman than herself in a distinct gothic style of attire, both of whom draw a second glance, moreso the latter.

Finishing her stride in, the saunter hesitates to play further into that possible second-guessing, but she coughs into a hand and can't avoid the joke: "Ah, thanks. I guess that depends on what kind of Norse boldness you're talking about tasting and feeling, doesn't it?" Her voice is made to sound somewhat shaky, yet playful, suitable for someone pretending to be the Feline Fatale.

Hela has posed:
"I am loathe to disappoint," Elle says to Silver quite seriously, almost as if there was no hidden insult at the term 'tasteless American chain bar'. "I was given a rare chance to introduce my heritage, my culture, to a new crowd of people...and Mr. Fisk allowed me a guiding hand in the project. I assure you much of what you see is real, and some with actual history, the order or use may be altered for the sake of introducing one object or story...but it is all quite genuine." She has a very welcoming smile on her lips, and her tone of voice is pleasant, the Norwegian lilt of her accent making her sound unique as she speaks. A less keen ear might suspect a German origin, but it would be wrong.

Elle does spread her arms sideways with a flourish, "I would be she," she answers at the question, some pride evident on her visage at the praise offered by Silver. "I am very pleased to meet one who can appreciate the love and veneration put in this place."

The innuendo, such as there may be in Catwoman's exchange, seems entirely lost on Elle, as she turns to look at her almost in an after thought. Strangely, despite her manner of dress, Elle's attention seem to naturally veer towards Silver for whatever reason.

"You wish to know of Norse boldness? I will tell you," Elle is more than ready, it seems, to share as much as possible if not outright lecture when it comes to all things Norse. "It is the spirit of truth, without facade, a boldness to do what needs to be done, regardless of price and stakes. There is wrong, and there is right, and Norse boldness does what is right, even when many others would shy away..."

Seeing how both Catwoman and Silver had a word or two with her, Elle suddenly offers, "as newcomers, would you care to join me? I would like to invite you to share mead and kantareller med geitost, a dish of mushroom and goat dish that you gather off your plate with toast? It is delectable..."

Silver Sable has posed:
A slow grin spreads across Silver's face. She hugs her arms loosely over her chest, not quite looking at Catwoman as Elle proudly raises her hereditary standard. The mercenary is even nodding along with Elle's words, until the question is put to her.

She gives the feline a whimsical look. "What say you, 'Catwoman'?" Silver quips. "The only thing the Norse love more than war is food. Some might even say it's on an even footing. Come join us, this is the food of the gods," she tells her. "Full of flavor and meant to keep your belly full all day." She uplifts her chin at Ella. "Invitation accepted," she tells the woman. "I would be honored to be your guest of the evening." There's something in Silver's bearing that's more than military. Aristocratic, even regal, perhaps. She certainly absolutely 'owns' the space she occupies, projecting an air of absolute and unruffled self-confidence.

Catwoman has posed:
Whether the others have noticed it yet or not, Catwoman has already looked around the entire room to take note of who and what is where. Exits, things on walls, everything, done in moments. She turns bubbly after that. "It all looks so /cool!/ I can't even!" When pretending to be someone else, it often helps to slip in some things the real deal would never be expected to actually say, thus 'proving' the lie to be true. In theory.

Looking disappointed, for a moment, that her joke didn't get the reaction she'd hoped for, she feigns scuffing a boot sole against the floor. "Well, I guess I could, if you want me to join you. I was going to a costume thingy but then I remembered this place and I didn't have a change of clothes so, like, what can you do, really?" Hands go palms up, gesturing like she's helpless in the matter, woe is she. "I don't know much about the Vikings and all that, but if the food's good I might eat enough to fill the rest of this costume out." Airhead. Must be an airhead.

Hela has posed:
"The silver haired one speaks true," Elle says to Catwoman with a proud smile, "and she has some knowledge about her as well. You should accept." Being someone from Norway, if the media is to be believed, Elle naturally has no conception of Catwoman, so the matter of identity doesn't come to mind. To her Selina is merely someone who dressed funny, or intentionally on the motiff of an animal for one reason or other. "Animals are cherished, cats after all did draw the chariot of the Goddess Freya," Elle offers, before motioning for the two to follow her.

As they move past the mead hall section in the middle of the club and more towards the wall, she asks Silver, "any chance there's royal blood in you?" As promised in her earlier answer to Selina, the Norse spirit is bold, the question is direct.

As they move against the left wall of the club, and the section of Faering boats, she signals a waiter and steps inside a vacant boat, which happens to serve as a private dining area. "Please," she motions at the empty spots on the boat, across from her, "the food and mead will be with us shortly."

Silver Sable has posed:
Sable lets Elle go ahead of her, mostly because Silver's never the first one through a door if she can help it. She looks inside before stepping into the curtained area and finding a seat against the back wall where she can see the exits and approaches.

"I'm Symkaria," she tells Elle. "Everyone in Symkaria has royal blood." She laughs wryly as if having made a clever joke. "From Portugal to the Ural mountains has seen hundreds of kings and queens. Conquered, banished, overthrown, displaced, retaken-- it is a matter of little importance in Symkaria. There are pig farmers with royal blood. My uncle currently holds the family duchy, and it seems unlikely that title will pass to me in the immediate future."

"What of you?" Silver gives Catwoman a once-over as she settles into the booth. "A curious costume choice. The Catwoman is a notorious bandit in this region, is she not? I should hope you don't run afoul of one of her victims."

Catwoman has posed:
Selina? There is no Selina, only Catwoman or whoever this apparent cosplayer might be. But can one take the ruse too far for others to believe the truth if it's shown to them?

"Welllll, I'm always eager to learn something new and I haven't had my TIL moment for the day yet, so okay!" She ambles closer, adding, "Tell me about this Freya and her cat chariot?" Surely, there are some eyes following them, especially given who she looks like, or Elle herself, or the particular attitude Silver gives off.

Toward the boat they go, and she settles in a spot next to Silver following Elle's direction, folding her hands together, elbows up on whatever passes for a table. "Symkaria sounds pretty neat. And I always wanted to go out as Catwoman. Isn't the costume good?" Her lips, painted grey to black, thin out a bit at the talk of possible danger. "It's safe here, right?"

Hela has posed:
"Our ways are simpler," Elle notes to Sable, "royal blood speaks of potential, but a commoner may well become a jarl, if he is worthy and earns it." She nods solemnly as she describes it, "a king can only be a king when retaining his crown. If it is taken, he is king no more." While that is not how most countries view it, Elle makes her point very clear with that assertion. "You carry yourself as a royal would," she compliments Silver, even if it may not be an apparent compliment.

Elle seems curious to hear of Silver's mentioning of a 'Catwoman', before her eyes veer towards Catwoman. "Is that so? You dress after a notorious bandit? That is an odd choice..., an unwelcomed one in this hall." Elle motions with her hand at the far end of the room where a perfect replica of Mjolnir is hanging over the bar, "there is much here of value...much of reverence, and the insult of attempts to steal these things away...would carry unfathomable price."

Funny, it's clear that Silver wasn't in any way suggesting the Catwoman sharing a Faering boat with them is the ACTUAL Catwoman, but Elle, as she previously explained, seems to take everything at face value, without facade. Her warning spoken as if the way Catwoman presents herself speaks to her intentions.

Then comes the waiter with the warm dish that smells of top quality mushroom and goat cheese, with the crispy bits of toast for all to share and dip away. Each of the people in the boat is also giving a drinking horn full of mead.

"Thank you Henrik," Elle inclines her head at the waiter who is soon on his way. She then looks at Silver, "those of royal blood...they tend to have many who wish ill upon them, don't they?"

Silver Sable has posed:
"My manners have lapsed," Silver says, pausing before Elle breaks bread for them. "I was enchanted by the welcome and forgot courtesy. I am Silver Sablinova," she tells the two women. She leaves it to Catwoman to decide if she'll actually introduce herself. "And I am grateful for your hospitality, my host." This is added with some measure of formality.

She waits for Elle to start or bid the others begin, and starts transferring food to her plate like she eats communal finger foods all the time. Catwoman's comment gets a wry, faint smile. "It is my home," she agrees, of Symkaria's 'neatness'. "It is not perfect, but my heart always yearns to return."

She glances at Elle and starts organizing her food, thinking. "It is the nature of man to demand rulership and then to demand things of their rulers," Silver remarks in response to Elle. She shrugs noncomittally. "The only difference between a queen and her generals is who can remove their rank. A general is subordinate to a higher authority. The queen is subordinate only to the power of the people." She speaks with a crisp intelligence despite her heavy Slavic accent, words carefully elocuted and delivered.

Catwoman has posed:
Catwoman does not interrupt the two as they talk of kings and queens and royal history. It's not that she's bored by it or can't follow. She simply has nothing to add, so she keeps quiet. In actuality, she's trying to decide how far to go with her ruse, particularly when Elle gives her warning. A cheerful smile is the start of her response, a shake of the head followed by a waved hand. "Oh, I don't think the real Catwoman would be dumb enough to try to steal something in front of everyone here in plain sight. That would be bold, even for her."

"I just wanted to see if I could turn any eyes. I like a little attention once in a while," she adds, which is true enough on the surface. "I'm sure you're familiar with pretending to be someone you're not? Like Halloween?" she asks of Elle, then the savory smells of the meal drifts to her nose and she inhales of the name she can neither remember nor pronounce, the mead kept nearby. "Oh, this does look tasty."

Hela has posed:
Elle seems to flawlessly shift attention from Catwoman to Silver, but it is likely apparent to the Symkarian how much more intent Elle's gaze seem when it lands on her. The wording, the conduct, it seems to please Elle quite a bit. "You may have heard me represented as 'Miracle Elle' but I assure you that is not my name, it is in fact Elle Quinn," she has a rather humble look about her visage as she shies away from the 'Miracle' moniker the media stuck on her, "well met, Silver Sablinova," she raises her drinking horn, and turns to look at Catwoman. "When breaking bread, and sharing mead, it is expected at the very least that one should introduce themselves to their host?" Elle stresses to Catwoman that unlike the other two women, she failed to introduce herself, and as she takes some food to her plate with her free hand, she remarks about the wit of Catoman, "I know not of this Catwoman, but if she were to try her trade in my hall," Elle muses, and one could almost sense a sinister delight behind the soft spoken voice, "she will find that seen or unseen makes little difference. I'll have you know, this place enjoys the presence of the Norse Gods." It seems laughable that this is what Elle offers as a reason why Catwoman shouldn't want to steal from her club, but she sounds quite serious and adamant about it.

At the question of pretense to be another," Elle points once more at the replica of Mjolnir, "I'll admit, on one or two occasions I have wielded the likeness of this hammer, and I wrought defeat for all of my enemies."

Imagine that? A Thor cosplayer...

Silver Sable has posed:
"I am sorry, I do not know this 'Miracle Elle'," Silver admits after chewing her food. "But it is my pleasure to meet you, Elle Quinn."

Silver's brow lifts at Elle's adamant assertion that the hall is some sanctified area and her eyes dart towards the crowd. Looking for Thor walking among them? Sif, maybe? The extent of the intelligence that Silver International has on Asgard is known only to Silver herself, but from the look of it she seems to refrain from disbelief. Only someone trained in microexpressions would pick up the look Elle gets, an assessment of her gestalt done in an eyeblink.

"Come now," Silver encourages Catwoman. "I know you are in costume and it's the way of certain people to conceal their identity. You have broken bread with your host," Silver points out. "Deal in good faith and you'll find that none in the world cleave to the duties of host and guest more closely than my forebears among the Nordic tribes." It's a lifeline thrown to Catwoman, because Silver clearly is percieving that there's more here than meets the eye. And if her intuition's right, Catwoman may be in more danger than she realizes...

Catwoman has posed:
"I know a Quinn," Catwoman says, a little slip that the others may or may not even pick up on if they don't know who Harley Quinn is, and that she's another Gotham City 'celebrity.' As things go on, she drums a few fingertips - no, clawtips against the tabletop, in between sampling some of the food. "I did hear of Miracle Elle," she remarks, but the more the two put pressure on her to give some kind of name, and the more Elle herself doesn't even really hint at the potential danger as much as warn, she chooses to drop the charade.

"Introductions, yes. I /am/ the actual Catwoman, and I'll ask you not to let it go past this table..I mean, boat. I can promise you I didn't come here with ill intentions, but it's true I like to go to new places sometimes and see the reactions. I just can't help myself. But, and don't take this the wrong way, you have nothing here I'm interested in sneaking off with. The things I like are of a different, shall we say, flavor," she explains, flashing a smile. "And I'm not /all/ bad. Just go around the South Hinkley area of Gotham and ask people on the street. See what they tell you."

Only the real Catwoman could take Elle's threats or warnings and lounge in place unbothered by them like a content cat, right? "This is very tasty, by the way. My compliments to the chef. Same with the mead."

Hela has posed:
As much as she was displeased with Catwoman not introducing herself, Elle looks very pleased with Silver's conduct and choice of words. She still holds on to her drinking horn, stalling before having a sip, to see if Catwoman will offer any introduction for herself.

When Catwoman suggests she knows another 'Quinn', Elle scoffs, "I'd imagine there are many others with the surname, but what of your name?" She clearly doesn't appreciate Catwoman's stalling.

Then comes the reply, and by Elle's incredulity, she must honestly not know anything about Catwoman. "So...that is indeed the name you go by? Strange..." (OOC: where is Doctor Strange when you need him for naming fun!) but she seems content. An introduction was made, and as such, she shares of the drink and the food with her guests. "I know nothing of you, Catwoman, I have no reason to speak ill or well until I know otherwise for myself. I will not share your name with others in this hall, if it should please you." She does smile when Catwoman seems to enjoy the sampling of her homeland. "Glad you like it."

She does, however, looks skeptic when Catwoman suggests there's nothing in this hall that she deems worth of her attention, perhaps having a different opinion about that. But either way, it all goes unspoken.

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver reaches for her horn of mead and pours a dollop into a flagon in front of each woman. "From Symkaria to Istanbul, sharing a drink is a universal language of friendship," Silver says. Of all people in the *world* to play peacemaker, go figure it's the CEO of Silver International. "A toast to Elle Quinn, our host."

Silver takes a fairly polite sip of her mead and returns to her meal, eating with a tidy efficiency despite the messy service laid out. "Catwoman, I have no greivance with you," Silver assures the burglar. "Nor does Symkaria, as far as I know. Miss Quinn, with your pardon, I'd explain the duties of the host," Silver requests of Ella, politely.

"As a host there are certain duties. She may not share anything of import she learns as your host, such as your name or whereabouts or any secrets you divulge. Should someone burst through the door brandishing guns, she's honor bound to defend you. These are ancient and old ways handed down through millennia," Silver reassures Catwoman. "You can rest at ease knowing you are safer here than anywhere in New York."

The fact that Silver has a nagging suspicion about Elle is left unmentioned. "And, for what it's worth, the catsuit is very fetching," Silver tells Catwoman. "The Bugle's pictures hardly do you justice."

Catwoman has posed:
"I'm not saying this to offend you, but you will never get my real name if I can help it," Catwoman explains bluntly. "There are some of us out there who operate, ah, outside of the law, and it's important I keep Catwoman separate from.." A hand gesture, waving side to side, "..the real me, the true me, whatever you want to call it. In this," now the same hand gestures down the front of the catsuit, inches from touching it, "I'm just Catwoman, and if you see me, that means I wanted to be seen. It's not seeing me that should have you checking to make sure everything is still here," she explains with a prideful smile, partaking further of the food and drink.

Turning partly toward Silver, she drapes an arm lazily over the table, near her flagon. Claw-tipped fingers curl around it, resting there for a time, then it's lifted for the toast. "Hear, hear. And you might have a grievance with me had I stolen from you. You don't fancy any cat-styled trinkets, do you?" The eyes, the expression, they've shifted from playing up a woman trying to pretend to be Catwoman to revealing the one who /is/ Catwoman, whether they truly understand it or not. "If you want to tell your friends you met the true Catwoman, be my guest. And I'm quite capable of defending myself, but if I don't have to lift a finger to do it that's fine with me." Finally, there's a wink at the compliment of the catsuit. "Do you like it, then?"

Hela has posed:
Elle nods along Silver's words, indeed delighting in hosting this particular person. She joins in the toast, drinking some of the mead, which is of surprising quality.

When Silver offers to explain the role of the host upon breaking bread with a guest, Elle motions for her to proceed, and listens intently. She never expected to find anyone so familiar with proper decorum in this country, and looks truly impressed.

"If the name you provide, is the name you carry, there is no deceit," Elle notes, not concerned about any other names Catwoman might use. But the perceived threat at Catwoman's playfulness does get a reminder from Elle, "I do not need to check my inventory, for it is my hall, and it is...as I have openly shared, protected by the Norse Gods of old. I have full faith they will see my faith duly rewarded. A thief of ill intention slinking in shadows with no honor, can never take what belongs here."

To this point, it was friendly conversation, all spoken in passing. But now Elle sets a rather direct glower at Catwoman, "we have broken bread, we have shared drink. I hope your manner is a playful one, and your ill spoken words do not suggest hidden intent." Turns out Elle isn't a fan of suggestiveness when it is uttered in conjunction with missing items from her hall, as she termed it. Needless to say, Elle Quinn is not amused.

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver flexes a hand between Catwoman and Elle as they bristle at one another. "Some peace, please," she says, in a tone of mild command. It's not stentorian volume. Just the quiet assertion of an indomitable will backing an implacable force.

"Catwoman has agreed to the customs of the guest and stated nothing here interests her," Silver reminds Elle. "She is, from all accounts, an honorable individual-- for a thief. She is attempting to reassure you that nothing here piques her interest, which is..." She looks for the right words. "Perhaps an indelicate way of saying that she has no intentions of stealing from under your nose."

Silver looks to Catwoman next. "Better to use plain speech and reassure your host that you don't intend to violate her trust in you," she advises Selina. Again, a voice of mild confidence rather than posturing bravada. "Your reputation precedes you, Catwoman. You need not posture yourself. Your word as a guest that you won't trespass is, by all accounts, your bond."

She pauses. "And yes, I like the outfit," she reassures the burglar. "Come, set these frosty words aside," she urges the two. "Let us eat and enjoy rare company. How often does a table like this assemble itself?" she inquires, eyes dancing in a spark of good humor.

Catwoman has posed:
Catwoman fights the urge to roll her eyes, but there might just be something in Elle that leaves her to think better of mocking. A short sigh follows, one of mild exasperation. "I am almost playful by default, but I can see when being more serious is called for. Yes, I am a thief. It's what I do, and you'll be hard-pressed to find one as good at it as I am. When I say I'm not interested in anything you have here, that does not mean I think it's inferior. Much of it looks great, and perfect for this place. It just means I don't.."

A gesture toward Silver, saying she doesn't plan to steal. "What she said. Your things are safe. I might be interested in meeting some of your Norse Gods someday, but how about we do that another way instead?" The glower from Elle ends up unanswered, because she is addressing Silver for now. "Well, I'm glad you do. I dress to impress. Now shall we forget the rest and just enjoy all of this like good table neighbors?" One of these days, her self-confidence might just land her in some scalding hot water.