Owner	Pose
Rose Kolodny	The Demon Child is bleeding out on the floor of the cage, stabbed to death with the arm bone of one of the three white-clad assailants by the man calling himself 'Horrow Show'. Molly had already thrown on her jacket, and may have been observed sticking a gun into a holster under her arm before she prowls off in the vague direction of the door. No longer absorbed by the carnage happening in the room and completely ignorant of the spatters of blood that daub her from having hung out too close to the cage for the last bout.
Miss Moreau	Moreau, of course, had been cheering as enthusiastically as ever. Particularly as a demon got beat to death with the arm of another man. And so it is that Miss Moreau, for the time, sated for at least one of her beastly urges. With one last drink done, she's standing up. A bit wobbly by now, her golden raven guides her easily enough with a few squeezes on the shoulder. It's that lingering blood that Moreau smells. The raven crows at Molly, and by proxy it's Mistress. There's a smile. "Oh, dear! Is that Miss Razor?" Offers the woman cheerfully. "Constance says that you have a bit of blood on you, sweet Stepper of Blades. Here." She's pulling a handkerchief out of some ruffles, cane tapping over to catch up with the woman. "A Lady should take pride in her appearance."
Rose Kolodny	The raven gets a look from Molly, or at least, presumably by the way her lenses turn in the direction of the creature. Slower to tilt it in Moreau's direction as obvious courtesy to display where she's looking at present. She doesn't reach for the handkerchief but instead opts for,"Nice bird. 's long as it keeps it's tentacles to itself." she barely glances down at herself with the slightest shrug,"Had worse. Black's good for hiding that sort of thing." there's an expectant air to her, even if she hasn't actually asked a question, she expects one to be asked of her, as placid now as she was waiting in the pit. Magically; she's deaf and dumb as a doornail. But if the bird can detect alterations and depending on the sensitivity of their sense of smell, there's a lingering taint of metal and plastic in her.
Miss Moreau	Moreau's head tilts, a bit birdlike itself in motion, before letting out a small huff. The handkerchief goes back into her ruffles. "Oh, why thank you! Constance has been an effort of love. No need to worry, that little trick has played out it's usefulness. You may pet her if you wish, she will only attack on my command. Be keep her away from any metal. The results would be...conflagrant." Then she giggles. "Oh, good! Ah, but I am sure you are curious about my interest in you. Such a wonderful display. You've won me quite a bit of money tonight. I simply thought I might return the favor in some small way. Dinner, perhaps?" Another pause. "You see, I could have use for someone of your skills. As you have no doubt seen I am not the most capable fighter physically. I should like to change that."
Rose Kolodny	Molly doesn't reach for the bird, though she grunts her acknowledgment of Miss Moreau's words. Suspicious sort that one to judge from the insectile stillness with which she lingers,"Dinner?" there's something in the way her lips curl that suggests amusement before a brow lofts, the shift and twist of her body perhaps acquiescance to the request,"You've some familiarity with a blade. Western-style, if I was to guess from your movements. But it's not your primary methodology." a nod in the direction of Constance as she enquires,"Genetic modification?"
Miss Moreau	With that shift and twist, Moreau smiles pleasantly. There's an arm offered Molly's way, her turn to be expectant. She makes sure to tuck her cane into her armpit as she fields Molly's curiousity. "Fencing, yes. I claim no single school or a formal education, but a Lady in this city needs something to protect herself. No one showed me the fine print about 'no weapons'." There's a frown. Then a shrug, with a cheery lilt to her voice. "Oh well, the crowd enjoyed. Genetic modi..." Here, she outright laughs as if the idea was purely absurd. "I would not inflict such crude methods upon my sweet pets. What occurs to them is entirely natural. I simply ensure the process goes smoothy, and more quickly than it might otherwise." Offers the woman most vaguely. "How does Italian sound? I know this wonderful cafe not far from here."
Rose Kolodny	There's distinct reluctance upon Molly's part. It's not that she doesn't recognize that arms held like that are for holding, but still. There's the expellation of a breath from her nostrils as she accepts the arm,"Ladylike and physical combat are not exactly synonymous. But yes, 'no weapons' was... unexpected." she adapts her pacing to the shorter woman. "Natural." the word itself is said with all the neutrality she can muster, but even so it's probably clear she doesn't believe that for a second,"Buyer's choice. So how can I help you, Miss Moreau?"
Miss Moreau	"Oh but I must disaggree! With grace, confidence, and poise, one can be a proper Lady even with one's claws stained a lovely shade of crimson!" A wink. "Who knows, perhaps they shall change the rules one night for a bit more excitement." But then they're walking. She takes out a phone, blasts off a text. "My car, or yours, Miss Razor?" Ahh, but to business. Moreau is light on Molly's arm, but she might be far too close for comfort. A tactile woman it seems, and an insistant one at that. "Twofold. First, you are going to teach me how you fight so viciously. Let's call it commission work. Hourly, fine? One-fifty? Once a week for as long as you think brushing up on my skills will require. Second..." Her voice lowers a touch. "I have a job that might interest one of a mercenary sort. I cannot give you the details in full, but I am after a very interesting clay pot from a museum that is more than it seems. My Family will be busy with sales that night, and so I need a bit of extra manpower. My side will handle the fencing once we have it, and then we'll split the profits even."
Rose Kolodny	"There's no room in war for such things, Miss Moreau. You kill, or you are killed." Molly asserts in that same placid tone,"Your yuen." she's not evidently concerned about potentially being separated from her ride at least. Holding herself with a careful composure that endeavors to remain blind to Miss Moreau's proximity. There's debate in the set of her jaw before she dips her head,"I can show you what I look for when it comes to an opponent. But, bluntly, I am augmented. That man was in peak physical condition, but he's still limited by the response-time of muscle memory." she doesn't address the offer for the moment, likely turning it over in her mind as they walk.
Miss Moreau	With a slow nod to Molly, it's off to her car! It's a white sedan, one of your mid-tier models. Not a cheap piece of junk, but not so expensive it's not expendable. A man in a charcoal grey suit and top hat, along with a white rose on his chest idly flips a coin. He perks up as he sees Moreau in Molly's arm. "Found yourself a date, Princess?" There's a light blush, and then she huffs towards the man. There's a warning waggle of her cane. "Oh, do not be rude, Sebastian! Miss Razor and I are talking business. Pleasure later." The man lets out a throaty laugh, and then he's opening the door for the two women. They set off at a decent speed. The thug knows his way around a wheel. Razor might want to shake off that arm, as Moreau isn't letting go. "Oh dear, is that the case? That would explain the smell of so much plastic. I do so hope the process was not painful. Mmm, marring the beauty of the human body with metal...well, no matter." Flipt. She's fanning herself off with a small hand fan now. "But yes, that would be helpful in and of itself. I underestimated my opponent. By all rights he should have been a bloody mess on the floor." Her voice is a bit curious on that one still. She doesn't push Molly on an answer to her previous offer.
Rose Kolodny	Crickets from Molly, there's no offended reaction on her part, though possibly it's filed away somewhere behind those silver lenses. She waits for Moreau to enter the sedan and while, yes, she would like her arm back she doesn't elect to make an issue of it for the moment for all the tight smile that she gives. "You hope it wasn't painful?" there's dubiousness in her tone in opposition to the brief smile that quirks her lips,"I understand it is not common here, but my augmentations would be considered... mild... compared to some. As to your opponent... like most of those supplied by the house tonight, peak physical condition. Athlete's, in their own right. But by and large... unaugmented, genetically or otherwise. Skilled enough... but I had been anticipating... mutants... not athletes."
Miss Moreau	"Oh? You come from a place where such things are commonplace? Frankly, you are the first I have met. Personally, I much prefer flesh and blood. Weaker, yes, but hard metal is so much less pleasant to hold. And shape, in some cases." Wink. A little sigh from Moreau, and finally she lets go. Leaning back in her seat, she frowns. "Agreed. I had hoped that there would be more...special fighters. I wished to test my own Power against mutants, and other strange persons. The extraordinary. I suppose that last fight was adequete, but the rest...mmm. More humdrum than expected even if the spirit of it was lovely." And then she laughs. "You were one of the only highlights I'm afraid." Finally, the car stops. It's a little italian restaurant, simply called Giorno's. Nestled between a strip club and an antique shop, this must be a local family affair. The sign promises authentic italian. Sebastian opens the door, letting the two ladies out. Once again, Moreau gently demands Molly as her escort. Sebastian is off to find parking where he won't get shiv'd. Inside, the restaurant is all wood and soft music, and a fireplace. It's all a little worn down as is typical of everything here, but classy for the area. It's empty, and Moreau manages to snag a private booth in the back. Moreau orders white wine, and a lovely dish of penne with cream sauce and chicken. "Order anything you'd like. You must be hungry after tonight." Implores Moreau.
Rose Kolodny	"You would be harder pressed to find someone who didn't, at a minimum, have telecommunications and a stimsim jack." Molly has no qualms about stating,"Things like your bird... would be the purview of those with far too much time and money on their hands." there's a faint smile from her, not addressing the question of hard metal at all in favor of inclining her head,"It was... not what I was expecting, either. I am certain there was a purpose to denying the use of weapons... but I also am not inclined to care particularly. And I would venture that your bout was more... interesting, than mine, to the audience." Molly's lenses turn towards the street, scanning over it before she slides out of the car and with a quiet exhalation of breath accepts the role of escort again. At the booth, she has to take up the menu and examine it, the silent solemnity with which she does so perhaps suggestive that somewhere behind those silver lenses she's calling up what the dishes are and sorting through them before finallly settling on a Rosticciana and a red,"In earnest... that was little more than a warm-up... aside from that one kick he got in on me. I didn't want to waste too much time on him, in anticipation that there would be... other rounds."
Miss Moreau	Moreau actively perks up at the compliment. "Ahh, I am glad you appreciate her! Constance is one of my finer pieces of work. The idle rich are some of my best clients, you see." Then she's outright laughing. "My opponent was difficult. A very strong man. Thankfully my little bag of tricks can surprise even the prepared. Luckily for me." A small, passing frown. She sips her wine, and raises her glass lightly to Molly. Her pinky is up as she does so, the git. "Mmm, wonderful. A shame you did not get to fully flex your talents. Well, with any luck, I shall see those in full soon." Hints Moreau, a tiny little push. Smile. "Are you going to fight again? I'm quite done as a participant, personally. But you certainly have talent. Not your first underground fighting ring?"
Rose Kolodny	"It... she...? Is gomi, but it's gomi that I can appreciate the functionality of." Molly murmurs, collecting the wine-dark red to loft in Moreau's direction for all that the sip she takes is... demure, for all the lack of flying pinky,"To collect this vase? Another piece of gomi? Your clients must be idle rich indeed." there's a neutrality to her words, not condemning in the slightest, but with that faintest furl of amusement that chases briefly over her lips. "Most likely, yes. And no, not my first. I'd be curious to meet that 'Horrow Show' in the ring. But it's money, and exercise for the moment... the opportunity to make connections." there's a dip of her head in acknowledgment towards Moreau,"I don't understand the trend towards ridiculous names and costumes, but when in Chiba."
Miss Moreau	"She. Constance is a good little pet." Moreau nods several times. She giggles a bit. "Quite. Most artifacts are of little use to my specific Powers, but they fetch high prices to those less specialized. What I sell, Miss Razor, are things that no one else has. Creatures that do not exist, old artifacts of power that are rare and beautiful." Leaning in, she whispers. "Though if you ever need a body to dissappear, I have certain services someone in your line of work might be interested in." Moreau herself shrugs. "Some feel more confident when they're anonymous, even if it's just the illusion of it. And well, I'm hardly one to talk when it comes to eccentric fashion." The amount of outdated ruffles and petticoats on this woman could drown most people. It's amazing she can move in it, much less fight. Their food arrives, and Moreau's conversation dips. She eats daintily, but hungrily. A very graceful starving wolf after using so much magic back at the Arena. Chomp chomp chomp. It's gone in a very short time. "Ahh, wonderful. Now. Miss Razor, what think you of my offer of work?"
Rose Kolodny	"Powers." there's dubiousness in volumes in that single word,"Molly. Steppin' Razor is what they called me... a long time ago." there's a faint smile and the shake of her head,"It's the illusion of civility over something that is inherantly not. To me... it's a lie told to yourself." the pork on her plate is dissected with precision and no particular hurry. "What intelligence do you have on the location? And what is the intended methodology of entry? I'm not particularly interested in risking my life for a piece of gomi, but for the right price and under the right circumstances I am willing to participate." A blackbird to Moreau's ruffles, between the dark outershell and that mostly hidden red-splattered white wifebeater, she's just the sort of plain to get overlooked under most circumstances, if not for those lenses, insectile in their silvered regard.
Miss Moreau	"Molly. What a beautiful name. Much better than 'Razor'. Even if it does fit the mercenary lifestyle better." Comes Moreau cheerily in between sipping wine. But down to business. "Gotham Memorial Museum of Ancient History. Despite the name, it is a private museum owned by a small time real estate mogul. Two stories, and remarkably well guarded. At least four guards at all times, generator backups of power, your usual amount of silent alarms and other annoyances. Employs ex-military for the job." She slides a small chip towards Molly. "Here. Floor plans. Our quarry is located on the second floor. Luckily, there is to be a maintenance crew for the backup generators on site soon. We are going to intercept that crew, take their place, and use their credentials to enter. Once we sabotage the generators, one of my men will cut the primary power. Then it will be up to us to hop and skip up, steal what we are after, and then get out with our hides intact." She motions to Molly. "I expect opposition from the guards. You are to make sure they are not a problem while myself and my pets take the proper precautions in case the vase is dangerous."
Rose Kolodny	"It comes from the ancient word for a woman shooter, a gun moll." Molly's got no qualms in saying, not even pretending that it's her actual name as she works through her meal, the fork gets shifted to her left hand to collect the chip and raise it to the back of her skull, testing until she finds a slot hidden among her hair that's compatible with it,"Do you want them alive or dead?" is the question she elects to ask. There's no shift in the lenses coloration, but it's a fair bet from the distraction of her tone of voice,"Are these guards human or other?" Multi-tasking as she works through the plans without so much as a flick of her fingers to suggest she's doing anything other than eating,"How can a vase be dangerous?"
Miss Moreau	"My, my! Should I be offering you a cowboy hat then, Miss Molly? I'm sure I can scrounge up a peacemaker or two!" Offers Moreau playfully, just before the waiter takes her plate. She folds her arms daintily. "Whichever pleases you. The guards do not matter, and as long as we do not have the whole of the GCPD down on our heads, operate as you like. Once we have the main power cut, subtlety is optional." "Mostly human, though I am told that the head of security is a mutant. Powers unknown. Well armed, my pets' casing of the place have shown that they mostly use compact machine guns, high calibre." As for the vase? She grins. "Let me tell you a small story. Once, back when I was simply an apprentice in the Roses, we were sent to steal a ring. Diamond, nothing out of the ordinary. Our second in command, bless her soul, picked it up without bothering to consult me. Her arm turned into serpents which then tried to devour her. It was a cursed ring owned by an archaelogist that defiled an Egyptian tomb." Her head bows. "There is much to be wary of in this world, Miss Molly. Beware that which lay beyond the eyes of men, for it is often insidious even as it is miraculous."
Rose Kolodny	"I look awful in a hat." Molly drawls, collecting her wine to have another sip. "And these guards? Civilians?" she enquires, though lets the question sit to listen and can't help but laugh a little for Moreau's story about the ring,"Curses are just superstitutions. You can achieve the same effect with the right derms... twice as easy if the person is wired. But one way or another it makes little difference to me. I am not interested in gomi one way or another. A job's a job."
Miss Moreau	"Oh dear, so I take it no sundress and adorable straw hat for you? Such a shame." Teases the woman lightly. But back to business, she swishes her wine. "Yes. Again, mostly ex-military. Kill them or don't, whichever suits you and keeps you alive." Comes Moreau, leaving Molly her choice in how to approach the matter. "Are they? Mmm. Not a fan of fairy tales, are you, dear Molly? Ah, well. Believe what you will. I know you will do an /excellent/ job! I am so very excited to see you at work. Gives me tingles down my spine in anticipation!" comes the woman enthusastically, hands clapping. "Derms? You truly must come from a strange place."
Rose Kolodny	"For the right price, I will wear the sundress, the hat, and high heels... hell, maybe even lipstick." Molly smiles faintly, then dips her head just slightly,"I find tales of the fantastically to be... unnecessary." there were other words she'd considered before using that one,"Compared to your pet, it is unlikely to entertain you much." she offers what she considers honesty. The wine is drained and set aside,"I was born in twenty-one ninety, Miss Moreau. To me... this is the strange place."
Miss Moreau	"I will keep that in mind. Continue with offers like that, and you might end up waltzing with me." Titters Moreau, even as she leans back in her chair. "Well, you're right on that account. I prefer my works to be more artistic and visible compared to some of the more subtle ways of the world. But to each their own." A huff. Straightening as Molly mentions her time period, she purses her lips. "You scoff at curses, and then you tell me you're from the future? Pot, kettle my dear Molly. I believe you, however. That amount of cybernetics in your body is proof enough. Not the sort of thing you will find commonly here." Soon enough, Moreau has the check in hand. She takes out her phone, snaps a picture, and places it to her ear. A tinny robo voice speaks, and then she's signing. "Dessert, Miss Molly? You have a place to stay, I trust? It would not do for you to sleep on a park bench if you will enter my employ, even if only for a time."
Rose Kolodny	"As I said... for the right price." Molly continues to shuffle through the maps behind her lenses,"What I do, gets the job done. At the end of the cycle that's what matters. I'll leave it up to you whether or not it has artistic merit." There's a quiet laugh,"There is a scientific explanation... that I don't know what it is doesn't make it less so." there's the tilt of her head as she watches the phone with blatant amusement,"No dessert, thank you. And yes. I have my own means for transportation and lodging. I'll keep this memory slice, however, so that I can continue to review it in the interim."
Miss Moreau	Moreau files that one away. Surely there won't be consequences. Surely. Legs cross, and Moreau chuckles. "Then I shall be your judge, my little artiste of dismemberment." The phone goes to her pocket, and she stands. The waitress takes their empty plates, and then Moreau curtsey's. "In that case, I must take my leave. Miss Molly, it has been my utmost pleasure. You are a fine dinner companion. Let us do this again, hmm?" There's a card with a single number on it slid to the Steppin' Razor. "Do not hesitate. I hope to come to know you well." With a bite of a lip, and a flutter of ruffles, she turns and tap-taps her way out of the restaurant.
Rose Kolodny	Molly Millions accepts the business card as she rises, scanning it briefly with her lenses before Moreau's phone will pop up with a new 'message'. The telecommunication system of twenty twenty-five wasn't exactly designed for compatibility with the woman. And although someone's patched her systems to provide connectivity... the system still wants to cry when it tries to translate her signal to something resembling a phone number. So the phone number probably looks like the phone's having a conniption, but bears simply 'razor' as her way of providing a number... without the slightest indication that she so much as reached for a phone. Eventually she slips out, too, to prowl back towards the venue, and her own car. Unhurried and content.