Owner	Pose
Barbara Gordon	George Kramer is a well-respected precinct captain, a second-generation veteran of the Blue Brotherhood. He retired today, after serving the badge nearly 40 years total. The party is being held at the Hound and Stag, a family-owned pub frequented by the officers of Gotham for the past 100 years or more -- which in and of itself is quite the accomplishment. Speeches have abounded from a number of fellow officers, and people are in and out constantly. The party is in full swing by the time the redheaded forensic consultant who also happens to be the Police Commissioner's daughter makes an appearance. Winding her way through the crowd, she makes her way toward the bar where everyone is buying the retired man any number of drinks. "Captain Kramer, congratulations. Dad said he'll catch up with you here in a while -- he had a couple of last minute things to do." She smiles as she hugs the man, and then gets her drink and kind of wanders until she finds a table in the corner. She's not exactly a cop, and she doesn't want people to feel like they have to take their attention from the guest of honor.
Vincent Black	Gotham, where parking is hell and there never seems to be enough street lamps. This is where the real weirdos come to ply their craft, hone their trade, and any number of other debaucherous and illegal scenarios. With a cop retiring, the city seems to have kicked it up a knotch at least as far as the parking is concerned. Vincent Black's car is at least a half mile away from the bar and the officer is walking on his own. He wears his badge on his belt tonight, no need to wear the neckchain he usually does, and his worn leather holster feels heavy on his side, which the cop is thankful for in this town. He knows it's there.     Stepping in, the man with salt and pepper hair lifts his chin to a few officers he's worked with in the past and does the whole meet and greet thing, coming up behind Babs to give Kramer,     "About time you old codger, you need to get a statue somewhere, having made it through Gotham this long." It's a joke in poor taste, but It's Vincent, he's rarely in good taste, and he covers it with another round for George.
Caroline Ramsey	There is a corner of the bar uninhabited. Or, nearly. An old GCPD tradition is that a table in the corner is reserved- colloquially- for officers lost in the line of duty. It's more of a ceremony than anything, as on especially crowded nights, non-blues will sit at the table. It's an easy way to tell the civilian crowd from the non, and most officers don't, and won't, give it a second glance, were someone to be sitting there.     It makes Caroline's presence both inconspicuous, and poetic. She's been served, and there's a half-empty mug of something on the table in front of her. For the moment, she seems to be considering it thoughtfully.
Barbara Gordon	Kramer himself is a lean man, wiry and perhaps a little grizzled. He looks a bit like Sam Elliot, right down to the bushy 'stache. He hugs the young woman and seems genuine when he says, "Glad you could stop in, kiddo." The insult tossed by Black, he just laughs off. "I should!" he agrees. There's a moment of remembrance for all the friends who *didn't* make it this far. And then it's gone and Kramer merely grins. "Go get a beer, Black -- don't be a pain in the ass." Barbara herself takes the table next to Caroline's, managing to claim the last empty table in the room for herself. Most of the guys are backslapping at the bar. She seems to be just taking in the ambience, watching with amusement. A quick glance is slanted to the woman sitting alone at the traditionally empty table, and she nods her head. "Evening."
Vincent Black	Vincent gives Kramer an effortless mock salute and walks over to the bartender, orders a basic rum and coke before he looks around the bar, and realizes he doesn't really know anyone. They all seem so distant in the man who's age descriptor is nearing ancient. He doesn't remember any of their names, and only some faces even look vaguely familiar, and the unknown mutant has a lot on his mind lately, so he makes his way to where he's most comfortable.     Detective Black skims the outskirts of the party, sipping on his drink being the black sheep he's always been, spots the two girl's starting a conversation, but he has no need to go over there other than, "Mind if I join you?" He asks Barbra, not Caroline, the unspoken rule certainly a thing in Westchester too, but he wont say a thing about it. His hand rests on the back of a chair, waiting for Bab's response.
Caroline Ramsey	Caroline has not looked in Barbara's direction. In fact, she hasn't looked in anyone's direction ever since the ceremony started. When the redhead sits herself down at a nearby table, Caroline speaks about halfway through the greeting.     "This part always bothered me. It seems like every other time we tried to do something like this, someone would shoot up the bar."     When she whispers, not only is it so quiet that it can't be heard outside of that small gap between tables, audible only to Barbara, really. In addition to that, with her voice down so low, it sounds almost like something a human would have. Almost.     Vincent approaches, and as he does, she plucks up the large mug. For a moment seeming normal, as she takes a few swallows from it. Can't have people questioning anything. Best not to seem like she's actually conversing with Barbara.
Barbara Gordon	Barbara blinks at the reply from Caroline. "Thank goodness THAT doesn't happen around here so much anymore," she comments in return. "It's still pretty bad sometimes, but... not like that." Then she looks up at Vincent and nods. "Sure. The place is packed. Please feel free." Then she extends a hand. "Barbara Gordon."
Vincent Black	Vincent takes a seat only when it's offered and only hearing Barbara's half of the conversation, but he extends his hand as if he hand't heard anything suspect, and he shakes her hand giving two gentle pumps. "Vincent Black." The man replies, considering her name for a moment and why it sounds familiar, but he doesn't press the issue, if it sounds familiar to him, she's probably well known by everyone in here, so he keeps his yap shut.     A glance is shot to Caroline, nothing predatory or calous, just, an older cop, keeping an eye on the room out of habit.
Caroline Ramsey	This corner of the bar is colder than, well, the rest of it. Caroline's drink isn't perspiring, which is something crazy suspicious... But also nothing that even the most paranoid of detectives- Okay, maybe HIM but he's not HERE right now- would notice.     She doesn't speak, and she doesn't return the glance. Can't look directly at anyone or else they'll notice the eyes, but all the same, she's not expected to, anyways. Seems like she's the paranoid one in Barbara's sphere tonight, because she's running sentry for something that hasn't happened in a long time.
Barbara Gordon	"Nice to meet you, Detective Black." Barbara debates whether to introduce Caroline -- is it better or worse to nudge the woman? She doesn't really know her well enough to know. So she settles for simply saying, "This is Caroline." Then she takes a swallow of her drink. "You're not a face I've seen around Gotham headquarters, Detective Black. Which precinct are you out of?"
Vincent Black	Vincent's eyebrow cocks up slightly as he looks closer at Caroline, but he doesn't say anything. She's not starting anything, and it's more than obvious that the girl is trying to stay out of the way. Shrugging his jacket a little bit tighter at the chill in the back corner, Vincent shakes his head at Barbara's question, "I'm out of Westchester, upstate a ways. Figured I'd make a trip for Kramer's good ridance party." The grizzled man says with a smirk before taking another sip of his drink. "And what about you two? What brings you into a cop's party?"
Caroline Ramsey	Caroline had really, really wished that Barbara hadn't done that, but in the end, she wasn't like Batman or the others- she wasn't the type to particularly understand discretion. Whether or not Babs had intended it, she had contributed more to the ruse that she wasn't some sort of aerial rodent themed superheroine. Caroline twitches slightly at the mention of her name, but otherwise stays out of the discussion. The last thing anyone needs is to hear her voice, after all.
Barbara Gordon	Barbara tries to help Caroline stay somewhat out of the limelight. "Caroline's just met me here as a courtesy. She's an old friend -- pardon her for not talking much. She's got laryngitis from a head cold." She smiles at Vincent, the explanation facile. "Kramer's a good egg. He and my father get along. He's got grandkids about my age," Barbara grins slightly. "Guy's a walking, talking legend around here. I think he might actually be the longest-serving cop on the force."
Vincent Black	Vincent cants his head at Caroline, the line about a head cold causing him to look at her even closer with his honed detective's vison. Not a real thing, but he's experienced in years beyond his already aging appearance. "As long as she's not contagious, but I'd get those eyes looked at as soon as I could." Vincent says, the notion that he sees her, thinks she's a mutant and wont do anything about it, might calm the situation down, make it a bit less tense, at least for Caroline.     "You should have seen him when he was younger." Not too young, Vincent's only been here for about twenty years. "He was trying so hard to get promoted, everyone called him stiff ass stepper. Cause he was always looking for that way to go up the rungs for promotions, but he was always a good cop." Vincent says with a shrug and then looks back to Barbara, "So neither of you are here for the celebration yet you both are cops?" A shot in the dark, assuming Caroline is a cop, maybe even a hunch, but nothing more. Maybe Babs or Caroline will slip up.
Caroline Ramsey	Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin could parade through the bar on a record routine that only the patrons of the bar would ever see, at their best, and Caroline would remain -exactly- as tense as she is. She doesn't seem to lighten up in any way, though at the mention of her eyes, she takes note that she ought to avoid making them as obvious in the future. It's hard to get used to minor bioluminescence.     She doesn't reveal any sort of tell at the idea of her being an officer of the law. She's too old, too angry, and frankly, a little too guarded to slip up in such a fashion. It helps that she hates speaking enough to make it all the more unlikely.
Barbara Gordon	The fact that mutants are a thing now actually makes it easier for Barbara. "I sat on her glasses," she replies apologetically. She acts as if of course he's not going to DO anything -- the woman has done nothing wrong. She's sitting here enjoying a drink in a bar full of cops. "Not cops," Barbara replies easily. "Although I do contract for them sometimes. Dad would have had an absolute conniption if I'd headed onto the force. Especially these days." She grins, her tone implying it really wouldn't have mattered but that she might have found it funny. "My talents are more in computers, though, so I follow the money." She deftly lets Caroline continue to loom in the background without forcing her to speak. "How long ago did you work with Kramer?" she asks, turning the tables.
Vincent Black	Vincent peels his eyes away from Caroline, still finding the woman suspect, but not dangerous, and looks over to Barbara again, with another sip as he listens to her words and finally her question. "Oh, it was about twenty years ago. Give or take." For Vincent it's closer to thirty-five or fourty years, but to Kramer, it was twenty. "You're a smart girl. It's a dangerous world out there, and judging how things have been going, it's only going to get more dangerous." Vincent says solemnly, as if he's resigned to that fact. But fighting the same future war three times, that'll do it to you.
Barbara Gordon	Figuring the situation is best served by keeping Vincent's attention off Caroline as much as she can, Barbara flashes a bit of a dimple at Vincent. "Was it here in Gotham, or somewhere else? I don't know much about his early career -- I just basically know him from his relationship with my father."
Vincent Black	Sorry Barbara, Vincent's isn't one to have much of an eye for the ladies, so he nods once. "I worked a few cases here and there, transfering every so often, I mean it's been a while, but I think it was Gotham yeah." He really doesn't remember, he's been here and there and lived a life time since then. "I sense people relate you to your father too much, and I figure it's a shadow you don't much like being reminded of, no?" Vincent asks rather abruptly, as he knows from experience that most girls mention 'my father' like that as a sign of respect and admiration but also as a way to make them a bit more emotionally distant, versus dad or daddy. Doesn't mean it's a bad relationship, just means it's not one they are willing to discuss. "Are computers something you want to stick with? Forge your own path and way at fighting crime?"
Barbara Gordon	Barbara laughs outright. "When you're the police commissioner's daughter and you've been in the precinct since you were like 10? Oh yes, all the old-timers definitely relate me to my father. It's not so bad, though -- it's kind of like having a big family." She shrugs. "I enjoy what I do very much. There's a lot of crime on these streets ... maybe not as much as back 20 years ago, but ... it's still pretty dark. And I do my part to try to make it a better place."
Vincent Black	Vincent nods, "I've never met your father, but I know he's done everything he can to help this city and empower the force to help itself. From what I know he's a good man." The detective says with a kind nod before taking another sip of his drink. "Doing you part and doing what you want to do however aren't the same thing. I'm sure you feel some pressure to do everything you can, just don't forget to do for yourself from time to time. I certainly did up until very recently, and I regret not doing more outside of the station."
Barbara Gordon	The redhead has an amused twinkle to her blue eyes. If he only knew. "I do plenty for myself. But thanks for the reminder," she replies easily. "I think anyone who works in the services can use that reminder from time to time. I don't *really* count myself among you, what with hiding behind a computer all day as opposed to chancing being shot -- not that I don't see some of the worst bits, but.... that's the reason I didn't go into forensics." She shudders delicately. "Not too fond of the blood and guts." As if.
Vincent Black	Vincent buys her claims. "It's not for everyone." Something he wishes Hope would learn soon enough, but he knows he's already scared her enough that she could probably rationalize skinning a human alive and not bat an eyelash. Vincent shakes his head to clear his thoughts and breathes in deeply before sighing heavily and taking another sip. "Don't put yourself down so much, you're as vital as any beat cop, sargeant sitting at his desk or DA building a case against some punk drug dealer."
Barbara Gordon	"I wasn't fishing," Barbara replies, a little embarrassed. "But thank you for the compliment." Mainly she was just trying to keep heat off Caroline. "It's really nice to see people from Kramer's old haunts coming in to wish him well. He's a crotchety fart sometimes, but ... he's always been real good to me." She glances down, fumbles into her pocket and pulls out a phone that's vibrating. With a grimace, she comments, "Well... guess that's my cue." She looks at both of you and smiles. "Caro, you going to join me?" Looking at Vincent, she says, "It's good to meet you, Detective. Be careful out there." It's a genuine sentiment on her part -- good cops are a godsend.