Owner	Pose
Thomas Raith	Weekends after Midnight at the Blue Lady is a time of massive crowds, and why Thomas kicks back $2400 to the fire marshel every month. The dance floor is alive, and on the main bar Yosa has no less the 4 bar backs jumping to keep things organized. Still Rank has it's privlages, and being a superheroine, Celebrity, and the "Man-in-white's" occasional parmour certainly offers Dinah Lance some Rank. Axe the door man spots her, letting her bypass the two block long line outside.... and Crush drops the velvet rope for her immediately, letting her accend from the madness up into the exclusive luxury of the VIP area... Where Champagne, Strawberries... And Thomas Raith waits.
Black Canary	Out of character for herself, Dinah has actually dressed up for the visit. A little. I mean she still has that blue collar feel to her; the working-girl's superhero is never far beneath the surface. Which means that although the sleeveless dress (!) she's wearing is pretty expensive, it still has that little hint of trailer trash in it. Like how the hemline rides a little high. And like how it hugs her form like it was made a size, maybe even two, too small. To her credit, there's no massive plunge up front. Her 'ladies' are lovingly wrapped by black silk, which, considering the aforementioned tight fit, combined with the properties of that particular fabric, even when in a brocade, leaves very little to the imagination. For that, however, there's a massive plunge at the back: a veritable cliff of black that drops suddenly and precipitously to just barely above the swell that begins at the hips in a scoop. She's dressed to kill, in other words, and the only question is who is the target of her murderous impulse. She makes that all too obvious, however, as she enters the VIP area and manages to look it over without her eyes falling even once on Thomas. Before she turns away from him and heads to the bar, displaying what he's once said is the best view of her, directly aimed at him. The man she "didn't see"... "Hey, Syrin. Usual for me." Bourbon. Neat. Top shelf. She's a creature of (bad) habit.
Thomas Raith	The bartender offers an easy smile, turning around and selecting a bottle of Angel's Envy Cask Strength. She poor Dinah a shot, a nearly $75 pour, then overpours it by at least half a shot and smirks. She places the bottle down and moves her hands in the rythmic pattern of american Sign Language. "Nice Dress. He's checking out your ass by the way." Then shakes her head smiling as her boss approaches.
Black Canary	*He's intended to.* That mouthes to Syrin. *I know how much it drives him crazy, and I've got a big ask for him. I need his will down.* She then pretends not to notice Thomas' approach and just savours the drink, moving like she's shooting it down, but in slow motion to let it more dribble between her lips, across her tongue, and down her throat, instead of swallowing it in a single movement. "Damn, Syrin, this is good stuff. And here I was thinking a shot of Turkey would go down nice..." Some of the others at the bar side-eye Dinah with a look of shocked distaste at the mention of the lowest of the low in bourbons, something that seems to amuse her given the subtle grin forming around the glass edge for her next pour.
Thomas Raith	Thomas Raith smirks a little bit as he takes his own personal crystal decanter and fills his glass with a single massive ice ball and the Ice Tea he keeps inside of it. "You know Dinah, he says with an almost langid smile, "You could try not stirring up trouble when you walk into a place." He sips his drink as he draws a line with his finger from the base of her neck all the way down her spine "It might not seem like fun, but the novelty might be exciting.
Black Canary	Dinah's eyes widen as the familiar touch of Thomas runs along her spine, radiating out from there through every nerve in her body, causing her to nearly drop her shot glass. (Thankfully it was empty; she'd not have wasted anything. Still, it's bad form: you just don't drop glasses!) "Oh, hi Thomas," she says, voice a little weak, her skin suddenly flushed in a wave that started at her cheeks and rapidly spread to halfway down her shoulders in a matter of seconds. She gulps and tries again, this time her voice stronger as she adds, "Didn't see you when I came in." Beat. "How are you doing?" She darts Syrin a glance that screams *HELP!* to the amusement of said worthy who quickly figures out she has to be anywhere else right now. Canary is on her own.
Thomas Raith	Advantage to being deaf? Built in excuse to ignore anything you can't see. and Syrin smirks as she proceeds to go about tidying the back help, polishing glasses and not looking at Dinah or her literal boss. Thomas chuckles and notes, "You know, Syrin isn't the only one who can read lips...and there is a giant mirror right there. So why don't you tell me just what your 'Big Ask' is... Then we can discuss compensation.
Black Canary	Shit. You don't need to read lips or minds to know what went through Dinah's mind just there. "Oh... I ... ah ... look, can we pretend you didn't see me saying that?" she asks after that second burst from Thomas cuts through her like a knife and hits her straight in the libido. "I had this ornate plan to introduce everything to you and just cutting to the chase makes ... ah, fuck it. I need money." And that gets more side-eye. "Not what you think!" she hastily adds. "It's not for me. It's for some criminals." Beat. "That came out wrong!" the clearly flustered woman says. "You keep doing this to me!" she adds with an accusing poke of her (gloved) finger at Thomas' chest. "And I think you do it deliberately!"
Thomas Raith	Thomas Raith smirks a little bit and chuckles, "Let's go to my office. I prefer to not discuss business in front of other people. Any sort of business..." He says with a smirk, grabbing Dinah's glass and his own and heading through a small hidden door to his main office.
Black Canary	*I hate that I love this so much...* Dinah thinks to herself as she lets herself get dragged along by her own clenching gut into Thomas' inner sanctum. *Well, at least I still got it. The scars don't turn him off yet.* There's a few more showing. Hazards of the biz. "Look, sorry to do it so crassly," she says once in the office, her voice a little thick, breathing a little ragged. "It kind of popped up at the last second; I kind of arranged myself as a queen of crime in an op, and ... ah ... I forgot the flashy displays of wealth part of that. I've got a big meeting coming up with my target and I need to look the part properly. And I'm tapped, cash-wise." The downside of being a blue collar heroine. "I don't want to go to the bats or their ilk because they'll want in, and this is my pet project, not theirs." She gulps and looks Thomas in the eye. *Damn he pretty!* she thinks to herself, betraying her thinking by a slight wobble at the knee.