13467/Reindeer Gala

Reindeer Gala
Date of Scene:	17 December 2022
Location:	Gotham Botanical Gardens
Synopsis:	Gotham Socialites gather for the final push for the Gotham Children Work's Hope House, funding an outdoor play area where the low-security convicts of Blackgate Prison can interact and have fun with their children as part of a rehabilitation project, when it's interrupted by a Snart in Grinch Clothing. With Tim Drake, Austin Reese, Phoebe Beacon, Harper Row, Alfred Pennyworth, Michael Hannigan, Robbie Reyes and Gabby Kinney present you would think it would come to a dangerous head, but the day in Gotham was saved... by HARVEY DENT.
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, Harper Row, Michael Hannigan, Tim Drake, Gabby Kinney, Alfred Pennyworth, Robbie Reyes, Austin Reese

---

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    AND AS LONG AS YOU LOVE ME SO...

    THe Gotham Children's Works is doing its last big push of fundraising ahead of the opening of its Thomas & Wayne Martha Hope House, a place where light-security inmates at Gotham's Blackgate Prison can go to spend hours at a time with their families in a contained, monitored, and most importantly non-Prison setting, since Blackgate Prison isn't exactly a family friendly locale. WIth generous grants from the Wayne Foundation and Wayne Enterprises, the patronship of one of the Wayne heirs and the absolutely stunningly sucessful 'Battle of the Bands' gala, they were moving ahead of schedule, and are now funding the add-on of an outdoor playspace, utilizing the lot of a derelict building nearby.

    And that's where the Reindeer Gala comes in.

    The Botanical Gardens are set up to be a facsimile of a Christmas Market; stalls selling spiced fruit, brandy-soaked fruitcake, mincemeat pies (and pork pies heavy with potatoes and spices) in lieu of the typical canapes and people wandering around with plates of tapas. Hot cocoa, hot tea and coffee from different stalls along with mulled wine and mulled cider. Above, LED lights are set up to slowly twinkle against the dark skies of the cloudy Gotham night, and piles of light and fluffy snow are artfully placed around outdoor areas of the venue, where heaters with tables attached give reprieve from the equally cold night.

    Music floats through the air lightly through most of the 'market', playing classical holiday and wintery-themed songs while a blue-and-white lit-up area sports an unlit Menorah, and folks are handing out latkes and having fun gambling with chocolate coins wrapped in colorful foil.

    There are security guards aplenty here, wearing earpieces to keep in communication since unlike previous galas... this is open to the public. Tickets were raffled off, though some are available for small donations of canned goods at the door.

    There is a VIS lounge (for Very Important Santas), where people who make more sizable donations have access to a cordoned-off sitting area with fireplaces, grandfather clocks and comfortable, deep, heated seating.

Harper Row has posed:
Harper has come prepared for the gala moreso than the weather. A pair of holiday themed antlers on a headband holding her earmuffs in place. A light jacket but a thick scarf wrapped around her neck, jeans and boots. A red clownish nose over her shnoz, held in place by an elastic cord. Toys for donation are lugged over one shoulder, her other arm occupied by linking arms with her reluctant brother Cullen. Her brother has also brought along things for donation and dressed more sensibly, but has refrained for dressing up too jolly. He murmers, "It's cooooold. Where did you even find this stuff? It's none of mine from back when is it? Y'know some of those things are worth something."

Harper yanks at her brother's arm as they approach and enter the area proper. "C'mon...I'll buy you a hot chocolate if you're a good boy." she teases. "Don't worry, Cap'n knucklebuster is safe and sound wherever you him and the ronin rats." she teases. "Frig I am going to destroy a hot chocolate. Cheer up, it's a jolly time ya doofus."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Amongst the number, Mike wades through the gathering. The years of on stage footwork and the time spent learning NOT to fall on the ninja course is proving helpful as he manages to move through the crowd without spilling a drop of cider in his cup. The chill of the air hitting the escaping heat of the drink provides a bit of a cloud effect where he walks but there's no need to pay mind to that.

Since his friend Wade is busy wading through accumulated audition tapes, Mike has ended up taking up the duty of representing Shaw Studios tonight. As such, the ponytailed musician has dressed reasonably nicer than usual. While not a confirmation to the amount of donation the studio may have provided near the beginning of the event, the musician is finding himself more comfortable wandering amongst the public crowd.

Although- he supposes at some point he does have to wander over there.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Of all the Wayne heirs in the world -- and there are more than you might think -- Tim Drake-Wayne is one of the less-publicized these days. Over are the days of being Gotham's second (or third, depending on when the count was made) most eligible bachelor. He makes his charity appearances alone and otherwise stays out of the limelight.

    Might have something to do with the fact that he's dating a semi-reformed criminal. Let's just say he takes after Bruce in that way.

    But tonight it's different, in the sense that he's not unaccompanied. And it's not his adoptive sister on his arm, either. There's a bit of ruckus along the red (and white, cute) carpet with the paps asking who he's with, but the only questions Tim's willing to answer is who they're wearing tonight.

    A Brioni suit and Hermes coat for himself, and an Iris van Herpen for his plus-one. Not that anyone could mistake the dress for anything else. How he manages to not step on the flowing train of red fabric that emerges like blood from the intricately detailed pieces of the dress is a mystery.

    Mostly it's the combat training. You always have to pay attention to your footwork, after all.

    Once they're inside, Tim retains his coat, slung over his arm in case his guest ends up needing it. With the heaters, though, both in the VIS (also cute) area and out in the main promenade of the gardens, he's not sure it'll be necessary. Still, Alfred would kill him if he wasn't a gentleman about it.

    "It smells amazing in here," Tim says, cutting a significant look in his "date's" direction. Significant because his date is Gabby Kinney, and who knows what the Kinney nose is picking up right now. He certainly hopes it smells amazing to her too. "Should we start with drinks?" A quick glance skims across the crowd, noting a few familiar faces -- Harper and Cullen's appearances here earn a smile -- before Tim's making his way towards one of the beverage stalls.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Amazingly, or perhaps even amusingly to her date-of-the-night, this actually isn't the first time Gabby's worn a designer dress. This one *was* far more intricate and the trailing hem was far more flowing. But she manages gracefully not to fall, or trip, or even clutch too tightly to Tim's arm when she grasps his elbow on occasion. Her hair is left long and loose with just a little curl on the end to be properly fancy. What totally ruins the 'designer look' is the twinkling LED reindeer antlers worn on her head. A small 'fun' addition to the elegant designer gown.

The heaters in the area do allow her a little sigh of relief as she feels the warmth wash over her. This wasn't the warmest thing, but it was something she could manage. Freezing to death wasn't something going to happen and after awhile she just stopped feeling the chill.

More importantly though? "It DOES smell amazing. I want... Oh man there's so much here I haven't tried," she gushes keeping her voice low so that she doesn't let on that she's hardly the proper socialite sort she was dressed like tonight. Flashing an easy, warm grin at Tim she nods causing the antlers to bounce in the process. They were firmly attached none the less. "Drinks sound great! And warm," she has to add with a laugh, giving his arm a little tap of her hand so that the paparazi will think he just said something terribly clever.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    No, it wasn't the adopted sister on Tim's arm, because Phoebe had already arrived and come in the back escorting a donation of toys for the Hope House. Pushing it herself due to the fact that she got very tired of the young man down at the loading dock addressing her as 'princess', and having no problem manhandling a dolly cart with boxes full of toys, she pushed it to right behind the VIS area, bumping into a gentleman with a blue puffy jacket with fur trim and snow goggles with a bag over his shoulder with an 'Ohmigoodness IAmSoSorry! Excuse me!', and trip-trapping on those fancy heels, lifting the hem of her gown so she can make it up the little staircase easier.

    Her hair was braided, with additional pale cream hair added to give length and then pulled up into a pair of low 'space buns'. She was wearing a wide dark blue collar necklace with silvery snowflakes. She was wearing a gown that started with the same dark blue as the collar, the corsetted bodice set with glass stones to make them shimmer like stars, then down to the A-line skirt which turns from dark blue to violet to orange, in a sun-set like ombre, all set with the same shimmering snowflakes -- and a little hooded cape that helps keep her shoulders warm.

    She squints a little in the lights, trying to peer into the crowds before a man in a very expensive dark blue suit with mousy brown hair set in the *perfect* coif straightens his jacket and walks over to her.

    "Phoebe Wayne, just look at you, out and not escorted. Why, someone could scoop you up and make off with you in just a moment!" he gives a bright smile. "Phillip Cupp, we met at the golf tournament that went all... well. It didn't end well, did it? But you looked great. And look wonderful tonight. This isn't a Van Dyne, is it?"

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
Alfred can't imagine what all of these young ladies are thinking, wearing gowns to an at least partially outdoor and cold venue. He is attired in his usual, politely but not overly formal suit and tie. With the addition of a fine, fur trimmed winter coat over all. Texture of suede, color of pine needles.

He's not /technically/ on duty tonight, but he is helping the volunteers sort and stack the canned goods as they come in. As per usual, with these events, there's a high intake of green beans and creamed corn. With his inner chef cringing, Alfred vows to supplement the donations later with some canned goods that are actually WANTED.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
And the award for 'guy who looks least like he belongs in formal wear' goes to.. Roberto Reyes, over there at the hot cocoa stall.

And yes, shockingly, the tattooed and pierced punk who's normally never seen without his beat up leather jacket.. is very notably not wearing it tonight. Instead, an all-black ensemble of knit turtleneck, fitted pants (not leather!), heeled boots that put him a little over six feet, and a very designer looking wool coat accessorised with leather gloves and a scarf. Because it's *cold*, duh.

Once he's paid for the drink, he loiters near the stall awkwardly, scanning the faces of people filtering past, and trying not to look like he wants to claw his uncomfortable clothes off.

Gabby and Tim get an attempt at a smile in greeting, if they look his way. So does Michael. Hopefully they won't ask what the fuck he's doing here.

Harper Row has posed:
Harper sister-handles Cullen towards the donation area, sibling coaxing and cajoling until they're where the volunteers and Alfred are doing their best. Harper pipes up. "Oh hi!" to the helpful and dutiful Alfred. She unslings her collection of donation toys and starts to assist in parceling things out. She does a double-take when brightly coloured ponies and chest-puffed adventurers in plastic and cardboard aren't exactly meshing with the edibles. "Cullen, haul this over there, okay? Then grab something sweet to turn that frown upside down."

Harper's bro offers a weary sigh and accepts the additional bundle of toys to haul over to the other area. Harper offers Alfred a wry grin. "No rest for the...For you, yeah? Need a hand?"

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Although Robbie may feel out of place, the open to the public aspect of the event likely helps the Ghostly one to fit in more than he thinks.

Almost. As Mike is venturing from the drink area with his hot drink, a glance of Robbie causes the musician to slow to a stop. "Hey Robbie." Mike greets, lifting his cup in a mock toast, "Happy Holidays. How're you doing?"

Well, at least he didn't ask what he's doing there.

Tim Drake has posed:
    "Drinks first," Tim confirms, and he winks over at Gabby to play along with the light deception she's acting out for the benefit of the cameras. Then they're off, on the move, and moments later are stepping away from one of the booths with matching mugs of mulled cider.

    Since Tim is here to be the visual representative of Gotham's most famous (and richest) family, he doesn't have toy donations or food donations. Just cold, hard cash.

    Well, you know. Virtual cold, hard cash. There's probably some big check somewhere for photo ops (do they even do that any more?) but actually big donations like that are usually handled via bank transfer. Still, given that some of the people Tim had recognized (and, y'know, actually wanted to mingle with) are over in that area, that's where Tim steers them. "Anything we can help with?" he offers, because he has manners. Even if Alfred is no doubt holding the line down by himself.

    There are other people here he recognizes too, and would like to mingle with, but sadly he's not wearing the right suit. So Robbie gets a subtle chin-nod, and Mike gets a more generic one.

    But since they're instead over by Alfred and Harper, Tim asks, "Have either of you seen Phoebe tonight?"

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
"Wicked, is the word you're looking for, Miss Row," Alfred replies with a wry smile. "Fortunately, as I'm not," and here he half waves an arm as if performing Shakespeare, "I shall later sleep on a bed made as of the very clouds." A beat. "But yes, as it happens. The area's starting to become cluttered. Would you mind terribly moving some of these sorted boxes off to the side, there? If they're too heavy to stack, just set them on the floor near the similar items."

He takes a moment to rub his hands together and restore the circulation, cocking an ear at Tim's inquiry. "I haven't," he replies, "but she did mention earlier something about bringing in some toy donations. She may be over there."

"Oh wonderful, thank you," he addresses a young boy who brings over yet another can of raw pumpkin as his family's contribution.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Hot cider obtained. Gabby is glad to wrap her fingers around the cup letting the heat soak in between sips as she walks beside Tim. At the bevvy of people she knows she grins with a bright, cheerful chirp of, "Robbie, Mike, how are you? Glad you guys could come!" She didn't have a secret identity after all. Though she wasn't about to go spilling others, either.

"Looking good, Robbie," she offers only for her gaze to slide over to Harper. A little head tilt is given to her as she'd not yet met her... but the question of Phoebe has her attention drawing elsewhere with a little inhale of breath. It's covered by lifting her cider for another sip.

"Sleeze-o-clock at the Phoebe area. Should I go rescue or do you want to cash in some big-brother points, Tim?"

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Even a hooligan like Reyes knows better than to stroll up and start chit-chatting with the likes of Tim Drake, given the givens. He's probably here to put in a token appearance for Wayne Enterprises, and play a part. Schmooze with the schmooze-worthy, look good, yadda yadda. There are benefits, it turns out, to not being the heir of a wealthy patriarchy.

"Not bad yourself," he compliments Gabby with a wink, and returns Michael's toast a little half-assedly. A shame it isn't whiskey in there. "Hey, cuate. Been a while, thought you fell off the face of the earth or something. Havin' a good time?"

He looks like he's keeping half an eye out for someone. Or maybe that's just the demon getting restless.

Harper Row has posed:
Harper offers a tight, if inaccurate, salute to Alfred. "No prublem guv-nor." Her accent is atrocious as well, but her jovial nature hopes to offset insult. The gesture she makes taps her earmuff and her nose winks on and off, on and off. The small snatch of jingle-bells tinny pre-recorded choir singing that ~should~ issue out from the gadget instead comes out a bit distorted and warbly, the batteries in the poor things about to give up the ghost of Christmas. She hops on over to start sorting those indicated boxes. "Wicked." she murmers and swings her arms around to get warmed up for some lifting. A few reindeer half-squats and she's good to go.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
As Tim gives Mike the generic nod, a concerning visual comes about. To no one in the know for sure. But there's the look of recognition filtering upon the musician's expression.

Dear God. Where did Tim go wrong to be recognized?!

"Hey Gabby." Mike greets the young woman by Tim's side.

False alarm.

"Just here representing for Shaw Studios." Judging from the relaxed posture of the musician, he is not as much on edge as Robbie apparently is.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    LET IT SNOW...

    Phoebe gives a small smile as she rubs her navy-gloved hands and rests her arms in front of her, letting the gray wool-lined cape cover her shoulders as she offers a small, tense smile. Those who know her body language would be able to pick up she's beginning to stress. HEr shoulders tense, her fingers curl in on themselves.

    "Ah yes, representative Cupp. Good evening. Did you remember to bring your canned goods for the donation?" she gives a bright smile, motioning over to where Alfred and other members of her extended family are sorting items.

    The man with the blue jacket and ski goggles gives a visible roll of his not-visible eyes, and scoots down the corridor behind the VIS (Very Important Santa) lounge where a couple other Gotham socialites are filtering in to get warmed up by the fireplace and giddily look in blank stockings to see if there is anything in there.

    "Oh, well, the family donated a couple thousand to the food pantry -- our normal donation, you know." Phillip Cupp waves it off a moment, and reaches to try and take Phoebe's hand.

    "But more importantly, it's just bad form to leave a girl like you all by her lonesome. SOmeone could try to take advantage of a young debutante just stepping into socialite life."

Some kids are starting a snowball fight in one of the outdoor areas with the heaters; the snowball hits on the back of a very tall, wide-shoulder gentleman who seems to growl with intimidation.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Carrying boxes, in this suit? Yes, of course. Gabby only has to hold onto Tim's coat (and cider) while Tim himself moves a few boxes here and there. "Harper," he says, voice pitched just precisely low enough to avoid eaves dropping, "This is Gabby," and he nods to his plus-one. "I'll introduce you both more formally later."

    AKA, including codenames.

    He's mid-squat when he catches the look from Mike, and to his credit Tim doesn't react. Externally. Internally, he's reviewing his encounters with the man in the past, looking for how he might have slipped u--oh. Oh, nevermind.

    Boxes moved (okay, he helped a little), Tim nods to Alfred, and thanks to Gabby's information his next scan of the crowd locates Phoebe... and whoever it is that has her cornered. Oh, wait, no, Tim knows who that is vile man is.

    Ugh. Great.

    "Tim Wayne," he introduces himself to Mike, extending a hand. "Sorry to intrude on the two of you catching up, but we have a rescue mission to undertake if you're willing to help us out." Wink, smile. He's playing up the persona, somehow talking about missions without sounding at all like the Tim Drake that actually runs missions for the Outsiders.

    Whatever Mike's response, he excuses himself more formally to the Wayne family butler, and then Tim is escorting Gabby in the direction of his adopted sister. He leans with a grin on his face as if intending to whisper something salacious to Gabby, but actually what he says, almost inaudible, is, "I'll distract the creep, grab Phoebe and do a ladies-joint-bathroom-trip-thing."

    Then they're butting right into the conversation. "Phillip! How's your mother doing, Phil? She hasn't been around on the circuit lately; are you taking over on all the Cupp family social appearances? Gotta say, I'm going to miss her stories about her little pomeranian army."

    That's the signal if there ever was one, Gabby. Not that she's likely to know that Phillip Cupp hates his mother.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney watches as Tim works on the boxes while holding his coat carefully draped over her arm. One cup if cider is held in each hand as he does so. She's good at that at least. Lifting anything in this designer dress that looked as if it were both painted on, and not covering much at all, would be a disaster.

"Tim's my guild-mate in Zombie Killer Online," Gabby explains to Robbie and Mike with a broad grin that was very much like herself. "I had no idea who he was until recently. I mentioned wanting to come and..." A little shrug is given. "Here I am!"

When Tim properly introduces himself she gives a quick nod of approval at the introduction, and quick departure. "Right, yeah. Sorry to dip out. Try the cider it's awesome!"

With that she turns to glide along at Tim's side toward Phoebe and the annoying one. When Tim gives an introduction she steps in toward Phoebe to reach out sliding her arm through the other girl's, elbow locked in elbow. "Come on Phoebe, you've got to let the other volunteers have some of the work, too! Oh let's go get you something warm to drink while the boys catch up."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
"Shaw studios?" Robbie furrows his brows a little, and gives Mike the ol' down-up with his eyes while he sips his cocoa. "Sebastian Shaw, the rich guy with the sleazy club?" Talk about a smorgasbord of damned souls, if Eli ever saw one. Heaven forbid the Rider ever manages to wind up in there.

Then there's the awkwardly tense conversation that briefly snags his attention, at right about the moment Tim alerts them to it. Some guy with a ridiculous pouf of hair, and a very attractive girl in a corsetted top and a-- wait.

Is that "Phoebe?"

"'scuse me," he mumbles to Mike, sets down his half-finished drink, and prowls on over, shoving his way through the crowd. He'll let Tim handle the small talk. He? Is going to cut right to the chase: "Hey. Pendejo. Why don't you fuck off. She doesn't wanna talk to you." Look, at least he isn't knocking the guy's teeth out. Yet.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
"No. Wade Shaw. Former Bassist of Silver Round and a good friend." Mike corrects Robbie. Granted Wade has been to his share of those parties but that's a topic for another day.

Mike looks to Tim's offered hand before reaching the non cup holding hand to shake it in response. "Nick Drago." Mike responds in kind, using the stage name he's supposed to be representing the studio under. "But friends call me Mike." He adds in, explaining Gabby's greeting.

The mention of a rescue mission with a hint for possible assistance causes for the musician to give a slight smile. "Isn't the point of being here to help out?"

Taking up on the quasi invitation, Mike follows suit by walking over to the VIP area that he had been avoiding for much of his time here.

Gabby's explanation on the way over to the area gets a curious look. "Zombie Killer Online? You'll have to explain that one later."

Just not now. As the group makes their way to the VIP area and Gabby nabs a Phoebe, the musician looks to Tim and Phillip. Seems like a conversational shell game is under-.

Mike blinks to Robbie's response.

Ok. Maybe just prevent a brawl from breaking out instead.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    LET IT SNOW...

    "My mother is the same as ever Timothy, how's being Gotham's Third Most Elligible? Almost didn't recognize you without the exhausted look." Phillip gives a slick smile, reaching to grab Tim's hand and shake. "And they're Papillions. Poms are too main-stream for my mother, you know how it goes. Won't you introduce me to the young lady on your arm? A friend of yours, or yet unknown sibling?" he gives that used-car salesman smile, turning to Gabby and not-so-stubly looking her up and down. "That's definitely too intricate for a Van Dyne, definitely not a couture house I'm familiar with-" he tries to make conversation.

    A snowball goes flying past Robbie's head, accompanied by laughing kids, having been scared off by the guy in the tan jacket. They skid on a wet patch and one goes sliding into a pile of boxed dry goods (stuffing, cereal, oatmeal bins, the like) and is buried beneath boxes of generic poptarts!

    Mike and Robbie join the rescue crew. Phoebe's eyes go wide, and she feels goosebumps rise on her shoulders and the back of her neck as Robbie comes up.

    Phillip Cupp pauses his small talk. He turns from Tim and company to Robbie, and looks him up and down.

    "Is that any way to speak to someone you should be bringing a drink for?" he asks of Robbie, squaring his shoulders slightly, assured that the VIS (Very Important Santas) Tim and Nick would take his side against Robbie's presence here.

    "Now, as I was saying to Phoebe -- she shouldn't be alone. Someone could try to show up and make off with her" he motions to Robbie, "before she's learned how to properly associate with 'the right people'." he turns back to Tim, as if it's all his fault the poor unguarded Phoebe was in the VIS (Very Important Santas) area alone. "Where's security? Get this boy out of here!" he calls out.

Austin Reese has posed:
This was actually going to be one of the first times Austin had gotten an invite to one of these things. Unfortunately the job had kept him busier than he intended, and he had found himself already running late. He had to get cleaned up after all.

When he finally arrives, it's with a donation of course, which he gratefully gives to the greeter at the front door. Austin actually cleans up pretty well, his hair actually brushed back and the suit he has on looking well tailored.

Seems he's just in time for the scene to start, as he was headed over in Phoebe's direction after catching sight of her. He picks up his pace, hoping maybe he can bring down the temperature. Or at least help back up Phoebe if she needs it.

Tim Drake has posed:
    "Papillions, right, right, of course. And I'm not on the market any longer, so I suppose you must be taking up third position now? Congratulations. I'm sure you'll find someone who makes you as happy as mine makes me." See, Tim can play the game. He flashes a sickly sweet smile. "Oh, this is my bodyguard. The things she can do to a man while wearing a van Herpen--really, you haven't heard of her?--criminal. Maybe literally, I don't ask those kinds of questions!"

    Yes, Tim can play the game. When it's the game of being snooty at one another. Tim grew up in Gotham high society, this much is old hat. He does glance towards Robbie when he spots the incoming man out of the corner of his eye, and he resists the urge to grimace. This isn't going to go well.

    There are plenty of people in the Wayne family who can diffuse situations like this, though.. And they're in luck: one is here tonight! ...Over by the donation station. Unfortunately Alfred is unlikely to make it over here in time unless he's suddenly developed superspeed.

    Which would explain a few things that happen around the Manor, truth be told.

    Tim opens his mouth, but he hesitates. He looks between Robbie and the creep of the night, Phillip, except he has no idea what to say in this instance. And Phillip is, as ever, more than willing to cause a scene in his own way. Okay, now Tim really has to say anything, so, "Look--."

    "Phil! Sounds like you're up to your old college habits, huh?"

    The clap of a sturdy hand on Phillip's shoulder cuts the tension like a knife through butter. "DA Dent," Tim says, and Harvey Dent himself waves that off. "Call me Harvey, please. And Phil, come on man, how many times did I have to talk someone's boyfriend down for you back at Gotham U?"

    The District Attorney flashes a charming smile at the assembled group, while his hand remains on Phillip's shoulder. "There's a congressman waiting on us, ladies and gentlemen, please excuse Phil here. Like we used to say--you never know what Phil gets up to when he's in his Cupp!"

    Wink, exit stage left both Harvey Dent and Phillip Cupp.

    Tim's quiet "Jesus fucking Christ," comes at least long enough that they're sure to be out of earshot.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike looks over to Phillip, eyes narrowing as the man. "I like him here." The rocker comments, "Yes men are so passe. It's much better to have someone not afraid to state what everyone else is thinking so you can make informed decisions. And from what I've observed he's an excellent judge of character."

After having his say, Mike switches to his practiced smile used when dealing with the sleaziest of hanger-ons at such events.

If there was any followup to that line of thought, it isn't voiced as Harvey comes in. The Drago smile remains in place until Phillip is out of earshot. "...What an ass."

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney remains stoically by Phoebe's side. If she moves, she'll move with her, but for now she just remains there with near perfect posture even as Phillip starts to inquire about HER. A professional smile remains in place as Tim introduces her as his bodyguard.

"Now, Tim, I don't expect he would have heard of me. You know my services are only for those who can afford it." With a tilt of her head back toward Phoebe she inquires, "I was asked to keep an eye on you as well to ensure you don't overwork yourself. When did you last eat, dear?" Her eyes skirt over to Mike, and moreso Robbie with eyebrows lifting a bit. Oh no. Don't get pissed. Do not get... Thankfully someone else swoops in to help diffuse the situation and peel Phillip away from Phoebe.

"What the hell backwater misogynistic hole did that inbred reject crawl out of?"

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Robbie goes still, and visibly tense as it's implied that he should be serving drinks to rich people, instead of daring address one of them.

No, correction: not implied, but flat out *said*.

The snowball wings past him, dusting his coat and hair with snow, but thankfully impacting the side of a stall instead; and under those fashionable threads, his body's stiff as a board. Fucking gringo and his fucking hair that looks like he took a glue gun to his head after being electrocuted.

He's just opening his mouth to say something to this effect, when some guy calling himself the DA interjects and all but whisks Phillip away.

Shame still makes his face hot though, under the ridiculous smattering of freckles. His eyes flick to Phoebe and Gabby over there, both of them perfectly safe. And then he shoulders past Mike. Time to get some air. Or find someone else's face to rearrange. Tomato, tomato.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phillip Cupp was ready to throwdown with his three years of Tai Bo and a smattering lessons of 'what to do if someone comes at you with a knife', and the bravado that comes with knowing security would have your back -- and then he feels a hand on his shoulder.

    Dent's smile is legendary. And Phoebe does, in fact, light up when she sees Harvey Dent, and gives him a smile "Harvey! Good to see you!" she smiles.

    Hey, he was the guy who pushed throught he paperwork to have her listed as 'alive' again. She brings him coffee when she changes her name. It's a weird aquaintenceship.

    And then Cupp (who was both red with anger, insult, and embarrassment) is lead away and everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief.

    Phoebe gives a slight smile to Gabby, and freeing herself from the bodyguard's arm with 'Nice Bodyguardin' There, Gabs.' and a small smile.

    "Excuse me, let me go check on Robbie and make sure... just... make sure." she whispers quietly, and she hikes up her skirts to follow behind.

    
    LET. IT. SNOW.

    And right about then is the time when something hits the chandelier and the mass of LED lights overhead, frost ghosting along the electgrical lines, causing the energy to short out, still, as a chill settles over the revellers that even the headers can't combat.

    "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF GOTHAM CITY!" comes a cry, with the guy in the puffy jacket hopping up on top of one of the stands, making himself apparent, his breath catching in the air.

    "I apologize, what a *wonderful* city, I definitely need to get out this way more often, Central City's a bit boring these days." he looks around, keeping an eye on any revellers who might try to play hero.

    "Now for those of you who are myopic enough to *not* know there's a world outside your islands, my name is Cold, and I'm here so all those Very Important Santa types can make additional donations to the needy. Right into this Santa Sack that my associate's holding up there." he motions with the Absolute Zero gun.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
Alfred is among the volunteers who go to rescue the poor child from underneath the mountain of generic pop tarts. "Up you get then, my lad," he says briskly as he hauls the kid to his feet. "Are you all right? Now then, you'll pay more attention to where you're going in future, won't you?"

It's probably a good thing he didn't see the snowball that started things, else the child would be in for a much sterner talking-to, parents don't tend to like that.

And then, suddenly, robbery! Fortunately the donation station is off to the side of the festivities so they aren't in the immediate line of sight of danger. Nevertheless, Alfred instinctively steps in front of the boy to protect him. "Can we not have ONE event that doesn't devolve into a crime spree?" he mutters through his teeth. Neglecting of course the last gala that went off just fine. Confirmation bias tends to be pretty strong when someone is waving a gun around.

Tim Drake has posed:
    "If you've met Mrs. Philomena Cupp, you wouldn't need to ask that," Tim tells Gabby in the moments between, when they can at least catch their breath (from having held it during the initial confrontation, of course). He shakes his head, mouth set into a line. "The amount she donates to animal shelters is admirable, but she holds some of the most vile views you could possibly have. I was about to panic-mention my boyfriend just in the hopes that her homophobia had passed down to Phillip and I could take some of the heat." Of course then Dent had arrived, like an angel on a beam of sunlight, and that revelation didn't have to make it to the press.

    He's just having a sort of Stare-Off with Gabby about going after Phoebe (who is going after Robbie) when, of course, someone announces that this is a stick-up.

    No easy days in Gotham. Tim looks up, sighs, and then nods at Gabby who slinks off to do what really could very well be important bodyguard work... it's just not Tim's body she's guarding. There are many more important ones that actually need protection. Like the kids.

    Tim didn't even have to tell her that. Gabby knew and responded.

    It takes all of two side-steps for Tim to vanish into the shadows without being observed, and then he's speed-walking through the back halls, working to undo the buttons of his vest as he ducks behind random objects to keep from being seen. He's only on, like, button three when he hears that same voice that came to their rescue only moments ago cut through the panic: "Mr. Snart! Let's talk about this before things get out of hand." And there's Harvey Dent, hands in the air to show he's not a threat, walking towards Captain Cold.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Feeling Robbie brush past, the musician turns to follow after Robbie. But with Phoebe moving after him a bit quicker, the musician's steps slow down, leaving him just outside of the VIS section.

The familiar voice shouting out ends up drawing his attention. Turning his head, he looks to the one making introductions. Yes Mike is aware of who Cold is. There was a freaking fundraiser for the guy's hospital bills earlier this year which leads to the musician having a mix of feelings seeing the guy make an appearance.

Oh hey. Cold healed up! Great!

Well shit. He's trying to rob the people who are donating stuff that is benefitting the children of other criminal types. Which is likely going to backfire on Snart so...SO MUCH.

"Was brain damage part of the injuries?" Mike mutters to himself, already questioning the judgement of the guy with the freeze gun.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Robbie's already wrestled the two thousand dollar coat off -- is that a Van Dyne? -- and dispatched the annoying scarf as he makes a beeline for wherever he parked his car.

He doesn't get too terribly far; Cold's voice rings out from somewhere off behind him, and he pauses mid-stride. Turns to find Phoebe headed on an intercept course, and gives her a supremely awkward smile before looking up to see what this buffoon in the puffy jacket and pea shooter wants. "Sorry, chica. Didn't mean to crash your party." His coat's tossed over the back of a replica hepplewhite chair, mismatched gaze unswerving from the guy trying to pull a fast one on them.

"This guy for real?" he asks Phoebe, jerking a gloved thumb toward Cold.

Austin Reese has posed:
Osprey pulls off his suit jacket, that's the hardest part to get tailored right, and chimes in over comms, <"Osprey online. Anybody else copy?"> He asks, as he stuffs his coat under a chair for safe keeping. He's heading back into the kitchen area, to grab something that he can use as a close quarters weapon. And maybe a few knives to throw, <"Anyone got a bead on this guy? Central City regular right?" He thinks he's read a file on this guy. Really hot summer day and he wound up researching ice based villains as a way to at least attempt to cool down.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Snart isn't dumb. All eyes on him means that his associates can hit up the expensive people wearing their Gotham Finest, and strip down rolexes, diamond earrings, the young looking guys with their pockets full of cash:

    "Don't you TOUCH Me--" Phillip can be heard calling out, followed by an anguished "AUGH!" and a curt "Thank you for your donation, Representative Glass. You've just doubled your family's donation to the foodbank, asshole."

    One of the associates has hit Phillip's solar plexus. He probably deserved it. "That one's for being a deuchebag."

    "District Attorney Dent. Pleasure to see you sir. I'll thank you to stop right there and not get too close. Wouldn't want you to get hurt on my account." he states dryly, drawing his gun up to the ceiling. "I"m sure you know the drill. Valuables in the bag, and then your boys in blue try to stop me, the caped crusader comes after me, and if the odds tilt you rway I get to see your face in the courthouse and if they go my way I get to see your face on TV talking about what a *problem* Crime is in Gotham and how everyone who lives in the city deserves better. Am I getting the script right?" he asks, giving a grim grin.

    Phoebe makes it to Robbie. "Not my party, I didn't invite Cupp." she whispers, drawing a bit closer as she looks to Cold.

    She has an earbud in as people start getting uneasy around them, parents grabbing onto their kids. Someone calls out for Jeremy, who thanks Alfred for helping him up and runs back to his mother.

    "Not his usual MO. Generally he's not 'out there'... more heists less... hostages." she states softly. "Honey's among the people. I'm with Reyes, but until I can get to a place to quick-change I'm a duck."

    Somewhere, someone's domino lights up with 'quack quack!'

Harper Row has posed:
Harper earlier had glances to Tim, and Gabby who is dressed quite a bit differently than the time she's seen her in a Coffee shop. Having given them both a knowing nod, her nose blessedly stopped blinking by then and the derpy jingle bells FX having died down to a barely perceptible growl. She had watched them go and helped shift a few more boxes. She's regretting not having a good sight line on them now.

When the commotion starts and the surprise guests turns the Gala into a whole other thing, her bottom lip pouts out hard and she straightens to take a bead on the situation. She's got little in the way of gear, and tries to usher civilians away as discreetly as she can, if she can. Psst psst psst works better on cats though.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
Central City is a bit outside of Alfred's purview inasmuch as he tries to keep the Bat-Database updated with all of /Gotham's/ criminals. Maybe if Arkham weren't such a revolving door, but his thoughts digress. He does the next best thing: takes out his phone and does a quick Google for 'central city criminal cold.' He has that luxury, at least, being on the edge of what looks about to be action.

Aloud, he takes charge and urges the other volunteers to take the pop tarts kid and clear out to safety. "Go on, go on, that way. Around the corner, out to the parking lot."

Then, in a much quieter voice, he says over comms, <"Mother Hen copy. According to Google, this fellow's one of Central City's /less/ virulent infections. I'm seeing mostly robbery and burglary on his public information. Be extremely cautious about his weapon, though. I'm seeing a news article here that says he once stopped the Flash cold in his tracks.">

Tim Drake has posed:
    "<<Red Robin here. Relocating to a higher vantage point,>>" Tim reports as his cape unfurls behind him, his fingers still working to latch the clasp around his neck. Just give him a few seconds and he'll be airborne.

    No matter where you go in Gotham, there's always somewhere for a Bat to hang. Gotta love that architecture.

    Down on the floor, though, Harvey Dent has obeyed, coming to a stop where he now stands. Hands still out, he shakes his head. "What about when word gets out that you hit a fundraiser to help criminals in Blackgate see their families?" he calls up to Captain Cold. "I know how these types of events are, and I don't think any one of us is particularly surprised that something like this could happen. But THIS one, Mr. Snart?"

    Harvey shakes his head. "I'd figure, with your background, you could see the value of a place like the Hope House. We've already got a waiting list with dozens of current inmates who want this place open so they can see their kids. Maybe on this one, we could reconsider. Come to some sort of agreement to let this one slide."

    Is that really something he has authority to do as a District Attorney? Actually, very probably yes. That's the American Justice System for you. But right now Harvey seems more intent on making sure no one gets hurt -- okay, no one after Cupp -- rather than what's going to help or hurt his numbers.

    From up on a high piece of statuary, Red Robin scans the crowd. "<<We have multiple confirmed criminals in the vicinity, all armed.>>" He clears the line for Alfred's communication, all the while marking targets on his HUD to be shared across the Batfolk present (sorry, Mike and Robbie). "<<Focus on evacuating civilians. We haven't seen a lot of violence break out yet... maybe we can keep it that way.>>"

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike feels a nudge and upon seeing one of the accomplices prompting him for his valuables, he demonstrates the lack of watches, jewelry, and presents the busted up Nokia for perusal. After getting what could be considered either a sympathetic or boggled look, the musician watches as the accomplice moves off.

Funny enough the guy didn't take the Nokia. Making note of where said accomplice was, Mike works towards making himself a little less scarce, visibly at least. The last thing he needs is a lecture from Thomas about this stuff so if he's going to help out here, he better do it in unseen mode. So, best time to slip into something a bit more.... Phan-tastic.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Robbie's trying not too look too disappointed when Phoebe informs her crew (presumably) that she needs to ditch the fancy duds. "You look amazing, by the way," he asides to the girl, making eye contact for a beat. But this isn't the time. Is it ever? They tend to meet under inauspicious circumstances.

"Go change. I'll cover you." Which he does by crouching down and scooping up a good quantity of snow, and packing it in nice and tight. And then--

THWACK. Yes, that's a snowball to Cold's face, interrupting the negotiations in progress. Ironic, right? Robbie thinks so, but his sense of humour's neither here nor there. His arm, however, is pretty impressive. "Hey! Over here, big guy. Yeah, I'm talkin' to you."

Austin Reese has posed:
Osprey emerges from the kitchen area with his gear on, his domino coming online, <"Thanks for the update, Mother Hen. If he's able to hit the Flash he's gotta be quick, so we may need to try hitting him from multiple angles.">

He takes some stairs in a hallway to access the catwalks above the main area, <"Hope Dent doesn't get himself in trouble down there. Looks like there's several guys working for him collecting jewels and wallets. Can't tell what kind of arms they've got.">

Robbie's snowball is hard to miss, as the thing sails through the air. That's one way to make sure that Cold isn't looking up. Osprey pulls a cartridge out of his belt and loads it into the right gauntlet on his armor. He's glad he brought one of the heat packs.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe stiffens a moment, reaching to very gently put her hand on Robbie's shoulder, standing behind him, eyes on Snart and Dent.

    "Robbie, Robbie that's a *very* bad idea -- not the time--" she gives him A Look because there are bigger fish to fry at the complement, dark eyes settling on his mis-matched "-- because if you lose your cool--" Phoebe begins, tensing a moment as Robbie winds up and throws the snowball.

    "Oh, Belgium." Phoebe mutters, and with a light warning touch against Robbie's shoulder, she too pulls her best Ninja Vanish, slipping back into the crowd and smoothly removing her heels so she can dash past Alfred and Harper with a whispered 'aaaaaaaah whhhhhyyyyy' as she ducks around a corner and to a utility closet.

    The goon takes a look at the nokia, looks at Mike, and then gives a wince, takes out a rolex and gives it to *him*> "Merry Christmas, Bub." he states, and then moves on before things go all Phantasmic.

    Snart gives a grin, and he tilts his gun up.

    "I like you, Dent. Nice to see someone else with a brain." he states, looking around the assembled. And he does look up -- it's Gotham. The city's known for Some Weird Stuff.

    Which is why the snowball hits him right in the face on the turn. THere's gasps in the place. Theres people who recoil as if Snart were about to lose his own cool.

    But he doesn't. He gives a *smile*.

    "I suppose you think that was particularly clever, kid. You got your one." he states, keeping his gun pointed up.

    "And you got me Dent. I'm not here to rob the gala for the kids of criminals. I mean, who'd want to be THAT Grinch?" he asks, lowering the gun and giving a small blast of ice and sliding off it, coming to land in a crouch.

    "But if all those people who are now Rolex-less and ring-less and jewel-less and wallet-less -- and that asshole asking if everything was a Van Dyne -- actually put their money where their mouth is," he states, lowering the Absolute Zero gun towards Dent.

    "They wouldn't need You to be their White Knight while Batman runs around at night, would they?" he questions.

Harper Row has posed:
Harper holds her hands up, making like another chilly chump, trying to shield or distract any eyes from those that may dash past to get their Ninja on. Her stupid blinky nose does its impression of a radio antenna at night, hound dog whale song plays an elongated dirge while the batteries struggle once more. Her expression actual winces up into a lemon-sucking kind when the snowball lands. But her eyes are sparkling and she's struggling not to woof out a big guffaw. A little side-stepping and she gets to pantomiming YMCA-style more civilians to slip out where they can. Her eyes momentarily flick about to see if anyone is getting ready to do some big darn heroics, and to peer about for Cullen. Her stomach drops, feeling guilty he wasn't the first she sought out for confirmation of safety. That pours cold water on her expression and her face goes stoney. "Frig."

Tim Drake has posed:
    The snowball comes out of nowhere for Dent. Too far away for him to have spotted it being made, at the very least. Because ultimately he's just a guy with no special training except a law degree and a lifetime of living in Gotham.

    So he winces. But at Snart's grin, some of the tension fades from his body.

    "I'm no white knight. Just a realist, Mr. Snart. Could we all do better? Sure. We're all humans, we're not perfect. But Gotham is a city that always gets up after it's fallen down, in the same way that I suspect you are. So all you have to do is write this one off, and Hope House can continue on development with the support of people here," Dent answers.

    He shakes his head. "I can help with the clean up, but there's nothing I can do to help once Batman gets here." The look he shoots up towards Captain Cold is legitimately concerned. "I don't want to think about what happens then."

    A murmur erupts through the crowd nearby at the mention of Gotham's Dark Knight, and some of the congressmen, state senators, and other assorted politicians begin to look uneasy. Huh, why would THEY be concerned about the Batman?

    From up above, Red Robin crouches down on his perch, watching through narrowed eyes and the telephoto lenses of his domino. Right now he's honed in on Captain Cold. "<<Body language is reading pretty easy to me. Not sure if Dent's actually going to pull this off, but at least we might avoid anyone getting turned into ice cubes,>>" he reports.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
What a kind gesture.

Just wow. It just warms the heart you know?

Finding a place out of sight, the Rolex ends up being set on a nearby table before the musician crouches down, seemingly taking a moment to tie his shoe. Eyes glance about to confirm no one is actually looking his way before he vanishes from view.

Quietly and unseen, the figure makes his way towards where Snart is posturing with his gun. The approach is calm and quiet. There's no need to go running up screaming for a tackle. Right now it looks like Snart's being-

Well, quite chill at the moment. So if Harvey can talk him down, great! But if not Mike would like to get his hands on that damn gun before it gets used.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Well. It *was* kind of clever. Because the guy's name is Cold, and he freezes things, and Robbie pelted him with a sn-- never mind.

Phoebe should know by now that Robbie's never met a problem he couldn't tackle face first, and deal with the fallout later. "Ain't gonna lose my cool," he promises the girl in a low murmur, watching her a moment as she peels away and loses herself in the crowd. Then he cracks his neck and cuts off in the opposite direction. Straight on an intercept course with Snart.

"How 'bout I put my fist where your mouth is?" he counters, slowing his roll as he closes in on him, and keeping tabs on Dent. There's an inexplicable heat coming off the younger man; heavy and oppressive, enough to likely melt any ice in his immediate vicinity.

Then Dent plays his ace, and casually name-drops the Batman for leverage. "Or.. you put the fuckin' gun down, call your boys off, and walk outta here with a can of baked beans if you're lucky."

Austin Reese has posed:
Osprey moves across the catwalk he's on, until he is perched on the edge of the catwalk above Snart. He doesn't move, not yet. He's more than willing to give Harvey a chance to talk Snart down. If anyone had a chance of doing it, it was Gotham's DA.

<"I'm in position above Snart and have a thermo charge loaded. If he makes a move with that ice gun, I'm going."> Other than that, he's willing to let this play out. Dent knows what he's doing. After all, Austin has seen him face to face in court before. From the defendant's chair.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "You're not a realist, Dent, you're an optimist." Snart states, and he keeps his gun aimed for a moment -- and then he catches the movement of Robbie running face-first into the arena of the argument.

    "Don't." he states, warningly, to the mechanic. His eyes narrow behind the snow goggles, and his finger moves, sliding off the stop mechanism that acts as the safety. His muscles twitch, tensing as he breathes out. "Got a lotta young people here who like playing hero, Dent. Probably some of them belong to the Batman, but I know my chances versus the Flash, and I don't like when someone who tends to be the 'fist' of justice first gets involved." his eyes settle on Robbie, and then he breathes out. He can't put his finger on it... but something's not sitting right. The hair on the back of his neck is standing up.

    "All right, Dent. You can chalk up a win this time outside the courtroom." he states, and he takes off the bag that he carried his gun in, and slings it to Dent's feet.

    "Tell the kids Merry Christmas from Uncle Leonard." he states, then points his gun upwards.

    "WRAP IT UP. We're outta here." he states, turning the stop mechanism back on as his associates (who have already made their exits while talking with their take) flee out into the night in different directions -- and he just sighs.

    "Good help is hard to find these days."

Tim Drake has posed:
    Slowly, as things seem to settle, Dent's arms lower to his side. He breathes out once, slow, and then as all of the baddies begin to make their exit stage left, he throws on a grin. "Well, that was almost as exciting as my graduation after-party," he says with a laugh that is only the tiniest bit breathy to suggest it's forced at all. But some of his fellows echo him, admittedly also somewhat faked. But it's something. Whether or not the Batman is en route or one of the Batlings are going to swoop in and take Snart down two steps outside the gardens, that doesn't matter.

    To Dent, what matters is that everyone here is okay. He spins around, nods once, and then the room seems to collectively lets out an exhale. "So," Harvey says, clapping his hands together lightly. "I know we've all taken a hit here and there, but I'll make sure the insurance claims go smoothly." This earns him a chuckle that runs through the crowd. "That's not why we're here, though. Let's not let what just happened affect the kids who are going to benefit from Hope House opening! Who's going to start the donations?"

    From some random corner, Tim emerges, swiftly adjusting his tie. "On behalf of Bruce who sadly couldn't be here today -- we all know things might have been a real disaster if he had been! -- one million dollars!"

Michael Hannigan has posed:
The musician stands, quietly observing the situation. When the hand adjusts, seemingly getting ready to use the gun, Mike reaches a hand out towards the weapon. Mike's hand was almost on the gun before the words of Leonard conceding reaches his ears.

The rocker moves back slightly but lingers near Snart. While it appears that no one is going to be made into a popsicle before the people gathered here tonight, the Phantasm has decided he will most likely follow Snart until he's well off the property. Last thing he wants on his conscience is that guy ending up in the hospital again over something stupid.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Kill him. Do it. Just twist his head off like a dandelion, *pop*. You'd be doing this city a favour, boy.

But Robbie does not do it. Because he promised Phoebe he'd behave himself.

Dent manages to talk the guy down, and as he calls off his goons the tension in the room gradually starts to drop. The DA's sent a silent glance, and a fractional nod of approval. And after a moment's hesitation, he turns and peels off. He's already left his donation -- a crate of supplies for cooking a traditional Christmas dinner -- at the designated table when he arrived, and Tim's got the situation under control.

Time to get the fuck out before the clock hits twelve and he turns into a pumpkin head.

Austin Reese has posed:
As soon as Snart actually gives up, Austin hops back down off the railing, taking a moment to lean his head against it. Gotta purge the build-up of adrenaline. Sheesh, that got too damn close.

Back downstairs, Austin slips back into the gallery area where Tim is making his announcement, cheering from the back. His tie is missing. He didn't like it anyway.

Harper Row has posed:
Bring a bit of comms gear next time, doofus. Internal dialogue runs this message through a number of permutations, PG-13 and higher as Harper breathes a sigh of relief. The tension having a chance to drain out of her. Rearranging her scarf a bit too tightly around her neck, half-garotting herself, she skips off to go check on her bro. And something hot to drink. A shiver passes through her, but she tries to offer reassuring smiles to little ones she may pass. Her eyes alight, so thankful of a resolution before New Years that didn't involve anyone getting hurt.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe entirely cheated to re-assemble herself after changing, and when she steps behind Tim, she's wearing a bright smile, though her eyes are searching the crowds around.

    Her lips purse a moment, and she holds up her hand.

    "He also told me a million, so it's two million." she states, sounding weary, her heels in one hand as she sits on her bestockinged feet.

    "DUDE did you see Harvey Dent stare down that guy? SO COOL!" some kids whisper as they pass by -- and someone slings another snowball!

    "But...my... wal...let..." Phillip Cupp whines from his place on the floor.

    Was his wallet a Van Dyne? The world... may never know.