16682/A Function of Paper

A Function of Paper
Date of Scene:	26 December 2023
Location:	Midtown - Gotham City
Synopsis:	What was meant to be a simple mission to prevent arson at the Museum of Natural History in Gotham went rather off script. Clara may have successfully prevented the crime, but for her the highlight was dancing and engaging in pleasing conversation with Damian Wayne. So enjoyable was the evening, that a
Cast of Characters:	Clara Jennings, Damian Wayne

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Clara Jennings has posed:
    It is a black tie affair at the Musuem of Natural History. The well to do are out in force and a reception is set near the entrance. It is complete with champagne, hors d'oeuvres, and music for dancing. Not the kind of dancing the kids do, but more refined. Which is to say, the kind of dancing done in uncomfortable clothes by people with a considerable amount of money and education.

    In this environment, Clara fits rather like a glove. Or she would, if she had not arrived on time. She can no more be late than she can fly to the moon, it seems. She wears a lovely blue dress with a neckline that is deep enough not to stand out but not so deep as to draw attention.

    She finds herself a bit out of place, arriving alone and surrounded by so many people far older than she. To most, there is little else to note about her, but to the attentive, there is something in the way that her eyes study her surroundings that is different. She is interested, while most others are at best pretending to be.

Damian Wayne has posed:
The youngest Wayne seems to have his father's penchant for running late to events. Tonight is no exception. While Damian would have rather been on patrol or anywhere else, he knew he had the social obligations that he had to fufill as one of Gotham's elite and a patron of the museum.

He arrived alone, dropped off by limo at the entrance. Dressed in a custom tuxedo that is well-tailored to his frame and polished shoes, he cuts only a slightly small figure than his dashing father. A smile offered to the photogs that are always looking for a shot, and he is fairly sure that he does not want to draw any more attention to himself.

So he needs a distraction. As he arrives on the edge of the crowd and looks around, the young man tries to figure out exactly how to blend in and at the same time... avoid those that would be looking for him, considering that he arrived without a date for the evening.

He doesn't recognize the young woman in blue. And he's made it a point to know most of Gotham's bachelorettes, just so that he knew who to avoid. She'll make a nice distraction. Taking up a couple of flutes of non-alcoholic wine (boo) from a passing valet as he winds through the crowd, he arrives at Clara's side.

"Ah. Good evening." he greets, one of the crystal flutes offered to the young woman. "Is it just me, or does it seem like that mean average age of these things get older every time you attend one?" he asks with a smile. "I'm Damian. A pleasure."

Clara Jennings has posed:
    Clara watches Damian Wayne's arrival curiously. She knows his face. She reads newspapers! Which is odd, perhaps, but she rather likes the feel of paper in her fingers. Even if cheap print might turn them black from the experience.

    Clara, in her mission briefing, was not informed that she might be approached. Moreover, last she knew, he was otherwise entertained. She may dislike social media as a concept, and the tabloids far more, but to prepare this she studied the entire guest list. She had a script in her mind for each of them. She did not have a script for this event.

    She follows his lead. She reaches out to take the offered flute of what amounts to sparkling fruit juice.

    "Good evening," she replies. "I suppose they do. One can hope that will make conversation with them more interesting." Clara draws in a breath, looking at Damian's face. Her greeting comes a moment later.

    She slides into a curtsey, her head bowed. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Damian. My name is Clara Jennings."

Damian Wayne has posed:
Yes, well, much like his father, perhaps Damian is a bit of a playboy. But there is noone with him tonight, so there's that. A small chuckle comes from Clara's comment. "So I better come with my best or go home, hmm?" he asks her with a hint of a tease in his voice.

"Unfortunately, as it is with most of these events, its more a matter of wanting to be seen and not actually appreciating that which is on display. My sister, Phoebe, loves the anctient civilizations exhibits. I'm more into the modern applications of science as an art as well as Middle-Eastern studies." She can tell by his dusky skin and the hints of whom his mother is that tells of his leaning to that culture.

When she makes with the curtsey and bow, there's a lift of a brow. Perhaps she's royalty of sometype? But it seems to have piqued his entrance. "I do not think I've seen you at one of these events before, Miss Jennings. New to Gotham, or have I just been unfortunate?"

Clara Jennings has posed:
    "I meant nothing by it, Damian. It is just a hope." Clara smiles at him, her eyes flicking away just to ensure she notices the next guest. Nope, not that one. He's in a wheelchair and unlikely to be threatening any libraries tonight.

    "I trust your judgment of the event, though. As for me, I appreciate objects of historical importance. Above all, text. Whether it is a book or a scroll, there is something magical in the experience of the written word. Particularly in those precious cases where you are reading the ink set down by a man or woman of genius themselves."

    She rises smoothly from her curtsey and adds, indicating the drink, "Thank you for this. It was very kind of you. Please call me Clara, Damian. I have been in Gotham only a few weeks now. It is quite different from home." Her London accent is likely enough to guide a guess of her provenance.

Damian Wayne has posed:
"Ah. Small talk. Got it." Damian can be a little awkward sometimes. He takes a sip of the sparkling cider and smiles as she rises from her curtsey. "I do enjoy a good book." he admits. "Mainly on philosophies of the Middle East and how they apply to modern society, studies of the martial arts as a type of therapy to clear the mind, and the study of detective work. My oldest brother is a detective and has me interested in his studies." he explains.

But he does catch her studying the others as they arrive. And it clues him in. Mistakenly. "Ah." he decides, another sip from his drink. "I did not realize you were waiting on someone?" comes the curious question. Apparently he assumes she has a date. "I hope you enjoy the event." And that may cue his retreat from her.

Clara Jennings has posed:
    Clara is off script. She is not terribly effective in social situations when she is off script. It puts her in an awkward position. She had only met Damian, and she was rather liking his attention. Yet she has a job to do.

    "My apologies, Damian. I am not waiting for someone in the way you suspect." Saying this reminds her why she does not go off script in conversation. "But I will need a few minutes to powder my nose. If you would like to speak when I return, though, I would be most grateful. I would like to hear who your favorite authors are." In that, she is absolutely sincere.

    However, Clara has found her mark. Not on the guest list, but among the help. Someone evaded background checks, it seems!

    She will have to move away from Damian one way or another, and while she is aware that she's going the wrong way as far as the bathroom is concerned, there is absolute confidence in the way she moves that she is heading where she wishes to go.

Damian Wayne has posed:
"Of course. Take your time. I should mingle, lest the press will wonder what new fling I have concocted with you." Damian winks at Clara, easily allowing her to escape. He doesn't track after her, he doesn't suspect anything. Instead, while she has gone on her way, he has started to speak with someone else...

When a flash of the same periwinkle blue that Clara was wearing catches his eye and he glances up. That's her. But he also knows the museum like the back of his hand. And he knows where she is heading is not the bathroom. And he was about to call out to her and point in the right direction, when he realizes the confidence of her stride. The way she's moving. It's with a purpose. It's on mission.

And the young man arches a brow. He can kind of guess her direction based on where she's moving on where she may be headed - the historical documents wing. There's a lift of a brow and a sigh. She was too good to be true, after all.

Cursing himself for not wearing his suit, he mingles with the crowd. It's all accidental movements and small talk. And it's all in an angle to trail after the young woman, without appearing to trail after her. Just a socialite being sociable.

Clara Jennings has posed:
    Clara can be a bit tricky to tail. For those who aren't skilled at it. She's now officially back on script. She effectively vanishes from the party proper into dimly lit halls.
    Along the way, and well out of public view, she initiates a change in clothing. Her dress just... flows off of her, somehow, as do the heels of her shoes. The paper lining makes it easy to change her clothes, revealing a catsuit beneath. It is skintight, but a bit on the thicker side. Light armor, probably.

    Now that she is where she means to be and when, she studies what lies before her. A locked door. She examines it for a moment and takes the time to ensure she is certainly alone. A moment later, she is satisfied. There is no picking of locks. No breaking of glass. Instead, something approximating stilts hefts her up towards the vaulted ceiling, where she crafts herself a perch. She draws up her means of ascent with the muffled sound of rustling of paper and there she lurks, rather like a spider, waiting.

Damian Wayne has posed:
Damian didn't exactly lose Clara. But he couldn't make it obvious that he was trailing her through the party. Once she disappears down the hall, he doesn't chase after her. Instead, he gives her a good ten seconds. And then he trails down the same hall.

Coming to the door that she had gone over, he looks around and down. A piece of paper? Kneeling down, he picks it up and looks it over. Just a piece of paper. Nothing special or unique about it, but he sticks it in his pocket regardless.

The door to where the paper was is locked. Instead of picking the lock, Damian instead moves away from the door and starts down the hall. It will take him a few minutes, but there is another way into that room that does not require him to break into the door and it can feed into him just naturally wandering the museum.

Which means Clara is left alone and free to do her work, for the moment.

Clara Jennings has posed:
    Well, that was not the plan. But, well, he went back, so Damian should be safe. This leaves Clara some time to be bored, waiting. Normally, she reviews her plans in these moments, but tonight, she's wonderful about the man who followed her. It's exciting, really. She's never quite managed to get a man interested in her before. The Governess will be most pleased that she may have caught a man's eye. And a well read man, at that.

    In the midst of this distraction, she does not notice the footsteps below. They are far less stealthy than Damian's were. This is a fact she would take note of. Were she not wondering if he she might get to dance tonight.

    Then she hears the sound of metal on metal. That man is picking the lock!

    She descends silently, bourne by a slender rope of paper.

    "Mister Donald, I presume?" she asks just as he opens the door.

    He spins towards her, mouth open as if to offer a most lame excuse for his actions. Seeing that she is dressed as she is (and now, it seems, has added a masquerade mask of paper to her fashion for the night), he instead just attacks.

    He is no Bruce Lee, but he's a large man, and Clara is, well, very much not. She darts back, bouncing with light steps away from his aggression. In a moment, though, he stops, held fast as paper rushes from above to pin his arms to his sides and snaps his ankles together.

    "That was most rude, sir. You should treat a lady with respect. And more importantly, you should treat libraries with respect. Which begs the question. Who would want to torch this lovely little library?" She sniffs at the air, "It seems your fuel has spilt in the commotion. I hope you are careful with your lighter."

Damian Wayne has posed:
Damian's curiosity is obvious. He's already running her name through the database and drawing up blanks. A new player. But he moves from the criminal databases to check the societal ones.

In the meantime, he continues to try to figure out how to access the room that paper was near. He finally makes his way there, but when he arrives in the darkened library... there's noone there. Maybe he missed something? He doesn't realize that she was above him outside the door, and now that is where the action is.

Withdrawing after a few minutes, he makes his way back to the party, more confused and intrigued than before on what happened to the young woman - and not seeing her cheerful color at the party.

Clara Jennings has posed:
    "I'll never tell you who sent me!" he growls at her.

    Clara shakes her head, "No, no, I suppose you will not, at that," she agrees. Her voice is utterly disinterested in the topic. "You do not have to, sir. I would never suggest that a man should betray his honor. Even-perhaps especially-those who have so little honor to begin with."

    This silences him. And confuses him. He asks abruptly, "What are you, one of those weirdos? There is a lot of money in this. We torch these books and I'll give you half. I can introduce you to my boss."

    This draws a sharp look from Clara. "Sir, you will torch not even a page. I assure you. In fact, I am rather tired of speaking with you. Sadly, I must do you something of a discourtesy at this point. You will of course understand."

    He falls silent and still, knocked out rather neatly with a bludgeon of paper. She then hogties him neatly in place, so that he cannot move so much as an inch, where others may find him at their convenience. Needle-sized holes are placed in all his oil supplies, and even his lighter is broken. Just to be safe.

    In heroic fashion, she says to his unconcious form, "Now, sir, all we have to do is see who bails you out. Or, I fear more likely, who silences you behind bars. Happily, though, I must bid you a rather less than fond adieu. For my sake, I hope this has not cost me a lovely night."

    She makes her way back, then, her dress and shoes restored with somewhat more work than they were removed. Her mask is shed, and after ensuring her hair is just right with the help of a glass case, she re-enters the party.

Damian Wayne has posed:
Damian would have totally enjoyed the show had he been present for it. He misses out on the action between Clara and Donald, but will only read about the event in the papers tomorrow when the local police pick up the would be arsonist.

When Clara arrives back to the party, it will be easy for her to find Damian. There's a woman in front of him. At least five years his seinor, and she's talking him up. Damian is trying to look interested, but is failing at it. And is probably desperatedly, looking for an escape.

"I'm sure that you are very popular of Tik-Tok and an Influencer with a lot of followers. I do not really follow those things, though?" he asks her, as she goes on about her thousands of followers and how awesome it would be if he would go on a date with her, because her views would go through the roof!

Clara Jennings has posed:
    Clara looks over the girl and feels, well, rather annoyed. Downright catty, honestly. How dare this random trollop come between her and interesting conversation! She has it in her head to take this woman to task. But she must do so with her best weapon of all: knowledge.

    The young woman approaches Damian, her ears perked to catch the conversation. She finds the heat of her disdain of this potential rival fanned to quite the flame. But she must operate within the manners she was taught. At least somewhat.

    "Hello, Damian! I apologize for being away. I clearly have no head for direction. If I had not run into a helpful member of staff I am not sure I would have made it back in time." An interesting interpretation of what occured.

    She turns her attention to the woman and that is when the knives come out. Oh, certainly the smile is fond enough, but Clara just cannot help herself. She is young, she likes someone, and she will not put up with anyone getting in her way.

    "I do find this topic fascinating, but it leaves me rather lost. Perhaps it is just that the simplicity of your character makes you exquisitely incomprehensible to me."

    Yes, she draws on Oscar Wilde for her social knife fight.

Damian Wayne has posed:
"See, we can go to my daddy's yatch and maybe do a few shots and use the hot tub." the woman is asking Damian when Clara makes her approach. "I'm not sure if that's something I really want to..." and whatever else Damian was about to say is lost when Clara's entrance is made, and she uses Oscar Wilde effectively.

The girl looks Clara over with a snort. "Hmph!" she manages, because she's not even sure what that may have all meant, but she feels a little insulted by it. Which she should be. There's a snort at Clara and then a look back at Damian. "Well... if /this/ is your type..." a look at the girl. "Your loss, I fill out a bikini like you wouldn't believe." She throws her hand up. "Toodles!" And with that, she's going to go gossip at all of her friends.

Damian chuckles softly as he turns to Clara. "I was wondering if this was a bit like Cinderella and you had disappeared and only left a clue of your presence behind."

That little slip of paper.

"I'm glad that you were able to return, though I seem to have lost my place in our conversation." There's a smile cast towards Clara, warm and genuine as he adds quietly. "Thank you for the rescue." comes the quieter words, grateful for the assistance.

Clara Jennings has posed:
    Clara is delighted at the departure. That was quite easy! She does her best to hide her pleasure, and mostly succeeds. She is delighted to direct her attention at Damian, now that the influencer has rescued them both from her presence.

    "My apologies, that was rather impolite, but you were kind enough to rescue me from boredom before, I certainly owed you something in return. And not just an abandoned slipper to bear about town looking for me."

    She notes that his smile does rather interesting things to her pulse. But that can wait. "You were going to tell me some of your favorite authors. I have read a fair amount in my life, and I always wish to learn more. There are many pleasures in life, but few rival a good book. I find them best read with the sound of rain on the roof and a merry fire crackling nearby."

Damian Wayne has posed:
Turning to face Clara as a light waltz starts to play from the band, Damian considers the young woman and then offers his hand to her. "I find myself more innvocative to speak when I am in motion. Would you care to join me on the dance floor?" he asks her politely.

When she accepts, he slides his warm hand over hers to lead her out to the floor. That hand remains in hers as he turns to face her, the other hand lowering to her waist, keeping a polite distance between the two as he starts to spin her across the dance floor. He's quite skilled in his dance motions, practiced in the art easily.

"And what type of slipper would you have left me to find?" he asks her curiously. "I'm sure it would have been something intriguing to lead me to your doorstep to assure it was the right fit." he suggests airly.

"You paint quite the inviting picture with your words, Clara." he offers to her. "Though I am not sure if you may find me so romantic." he comments in a light teasing tone. "My tastes are all over the place, from Sun Zi (not Sun Tzu, which may alert Clara that he knows Mandarin) and von Clausewitz to Hemmingway and Steinbeck. I enjoy a good book by a warm, low light at bedside."

Clara Jennings has posed:
    Clara is light on her feet, and light in his hands. She comfortably holds his hand and sets her other at his shoulder. She has certainly been well taught, and her smile reveals a great delight.

    "I fear my slippers are not made of crystal, and these heels are something a dear friend selected for the occasion. Her judgment is something I rely upon in times like this. New places, new people. I believe these are the work of Jimmy Choo. As for the slippers I wear at home, they are rather understated, but warm and quite comfortable."

    She focuses on his words, rather enjoying his menu of authors. She catches note of his care to correctly pronounce authors name and delights in it. "You show much respect for those who have added to the collective wisdom of humanity. I approve of that, Damian. I do hope the reading light is not too low, though! I would hate your vision to be harmed. That being said, I enjoy a stroll in the dark, though."

    Apropos of nothing, certainly.

Damian Wayne has posed:
"Oh, my eyes are quite fine. They noticed you after all." Damian comments as the pair spins across the dance floor, a light dip offered to Clara and when she comes back up, are they slightly closer together? It may have just been the movement, right?

"Crystal slippers are overrated. I imagine that they would hurt with their stiffness and unwieldy nature would lead to easy breakage with a misstep." he points out as she brings up her shoes are Choos. He doesn't seem to be the type to go with labels, though.

"I have little fear of the dark, though I am aware enough to be wary of the nights in Gotham." he points out to her as he chuckles softly, a light color to his cheeks. "I will have to make sure that I have the proper lighting at home not to harm my eyes. Even if my father would prefer I read in the library. There are many first editions there, and he's made sure that it's an inviting space for those that visit to take advantage of the facilities. Not to be dragged back to bedrooms like the heathen I am." His tone is affectionate about it, apparently caring about his father.

Clara Jennings has posed:
    If they are closer, it seems that Clara approves of it. She is enjoying herself. Damian is quite simply charming her. That he bears a remarkable last name has nothing to do with it. However, it would be dishonest to deny that his mention of a private library of that magnitude does not pique her interest, though!

    She listens to his appraisal of the cons of crystal footwear with a laugh. "Well, that is certainly true. I think that the Disney interpretation of the story was rather uninterested in such practical concerns." She has to carefully control her desire to discuss the original and begin a comparison.

    Fortunately, he captures her attention (and imagination) by speaking of the library. "It is wonderful of your father to curate such a lovely collection," she says approvingly. "But I do understand that books are best enjoyed in familiar surroundings. I find it less distracting. Libraries are lovely for wandering, though. To just find a place on a shelf, reach out, and be transported into the world of ideas and imagination."

    She turns her attention back, though, to an earlier comment. "My governess warns me against the streets. Is it truly so dangerous here? I rather thought that a city defended by so many heroes would be rather safer than London."

Damian Wayne has posed:
"The streets could be safer. I do not fault our would-be protectors. It is more the issue of making sure those that commit crimes are properly rehabilitated and not introduced into a revolving door of a justice system that seems to allow free reign." It is something that Damian feels strongly on, and it shows in his words, and the slight tightening of his grip upon Clara. Something that he realizes a moment later and slowly releases, a bit of color in his cheeks. "My apologies." he offers politely.

"Father does his best to share some of his works with libraries and all, but there are some books that are kept and curated, such as his first edition of 'The Canterbury Tales' by Chaucer." A book that Clara will know is worth over 11 million dollars. "Or Poe's 'Tamerlane and Other Poems'." A shrug of his shoulders, as if the books are just there.

"There is much faith put in the protectors of this city. Should not as much faith be invested in the protections that are hired for and elected by the protectors of Gotham? We did not hire a Batman, after all, and I would prefer if the police could do their job effectively without the worry of a justice system that needs to be fixed."

Clara Jennings has posed:
    Damian's grip is a surprise, but it is not painful, certainly. If Clara is honest, it rather felt exhilirating while it lasted. A light pink colors her cheeks, and she replies, "Oh, think nothing of it, of course. It is your home. You should be passionate about its condition."

    While Clara is no doubt aware of the value of certain things, it is more a matter of the art that rather enchants her. "Surely those are wonders that deserve special protection." That Damian seems not so moved by them is not lost on her, but then, when you walk by the same tree every day, you lose the wonder in the miracle of its life.

    "You are right. While volunteers to the peace are certainly welcome, it seems that one should be afforded peace by the elected and the employed. It is a shame that things work so poorly." It also makes her wonder if maybe that her work will be unsuccessful here. But that is a worry for another day.

    Tonight, she can dance and feel at ease. She notes, "You are a fine dancer, Damian. I am enjoying this evening immensely. It is a most welcome surprise."

Damian Wayne has posed:
"Oh, I promise, they are protected. My father invests highly in the security of his home and family." Damian says with a grin, and it turns playful. "So no getting ideas." A wink at her, before he just as easily changes the subject. "It is easy to dance with someone that is practiced in the same motion." he points out to her. "It makes it easier to match one's step when they are made together."

But alas, the music is starting to wind down, and the dance will have to come to an end.

As it does so, Damian relaxes his grip, before stepping back from the lovely young woman, his hands lowering to his sides. "I have enjoyed our time together, Clara." he offers to her lightly, a smile touching his lips.

"But I should attend to my other social obligations. Or tongues will start wagging." And to bring the conversation around to a start, he offers her a polite bow. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Clara." When he comes up, he produces a business card with his contact information on it. "Perhaps we can speak again under less formal circumstances?"

Clara Jennings has posed:
    That he must go is understood. While his last name means little to her, it is no quantum kitten, leaping out of existence just because she is not looking. That would be rather convenient, perhaps not only for her.

    "Even this new lady in town knows not to wander uninvited near Wayne Manor," she replies playfully. Certainly part of her is curious of what lays in wait there, but for now, knowing that things there are safe-Damian and those books-satisfies her.

    It is not a lack of pleasure that brings a sign of disappointment to her eyes. Quite the opposite. It feels so very short a time. How many songs has it been? Others are looking, she realizes, so perhaps it was more than just a brief trip across the floor.

    Her attention is not long on others. Clara is looking at Damian as she again glides into a curtsey. It is something she does with grace and poise.

    "I hope your obligations are not too onerous." When the card is offered, she reaches out and accepts it with both hands. She looks at it seriously, and then holds it to her breast. "Or perhaps I should hope they are, and that you will answer my messages swiftly, when they come?" For certainly they shall.

    When Damian departs, she shows little interest in mingling. Her obligations are far less than his, but she does leave him something. A most bemused man at the coatcheck has to accept her left shoe and place it with Damian Wayne's coat. That she breaks the heel off to make it better fit its purpose rather startles the man, but it ends in laughter.

    Clara has no card, but she does slip a note into the shoe with her phone number and the text:

    "A lady feels most appreciated when the gentleman calls on her."

    Unsurprisingly, her penmanship is lovely, and she puts much effort into forming every letter.

Damian Wayne has posed:
When the end of the night comes and Damian arrives at the coat check, the checker looks bemused. "May want to check your pockets." he suggests to the billionaire's young son. There's an arch of a brow as Damian reaches into his pocket and finds the small heel in his pocket.

His lips break into a grin that actually shows his teeth as he takes out the slip of paper to study it. When the driver arrives to take him home, Damian takes out his phone and sends a message to the number listed upon the slip of paper.

> Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.

Because of course he would use Shakespeare to close the deal on the well-read girl.

But now that he has that second sheet of paper - he has something to compare in the Batcomputer, to see if they came from the same source and place Clara in that hallway earlier.

A new mystery has opened for Damian, one that he finds he needs to look further into.