17147/Assassin's Ball

Assassin's Ball
Date of Scene:	17 March 2024
Location:	Abandoned Theater, Aegean Sea
Synopsis:	The Assassin's Ball in the Aegean Sea, mingling and making friends, and shrimps consumed by the Yeen-load.
Cast of Characters:	Flatline, Talia al Ghul, Damian Wayne, Wade Wilson, Spiral, Felicia Hardy, Sma'shaw Ihaka

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Flatline has posed:
(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/f3/db/1b/f3db1b7399b2c28625299ba99a302162.jpg and https://i.pinimg.com/564x/b0/f7/02/b0f70200a201e411270de3bfec39616a.jpg for inspiration)

    The locale chosen was ancient, remote, crumbling in places, and probably factually owned by some large government but forgotten, derelict, or otherwise perfect for those In the Know to gether. A DJ stand had been set up, and lights brighten the fading light as the sun set over the Greek mainland, distant and pock-parked by closer islands, some occupied by the living, but most only by ghosts and sea birds.

    The sand-colored stone of the former theater dedicated to the God of Wine and Acting was set with velvet cushions in blood red, draped in cloth to keep dresses from getting too dusty. The stars were beginning to peek out from the firmament above, pinpricks of brilliants in blues and the occasional red in the velvety wine-dark skies.

    Entry to the venue wasn't checked. Not everyone would be showing their face, and masquerade masks were the norm among those who were serving this evening -- they all wanted to be able to continue their lives the next morning.

    Some revelers were already there, few armed obviously, but every now and again the flash of steel or gunmental could be seen tucked into a garter or a boot.

Talia al Ghul has posed:
Talia al Ghul was very fond of the classics. The architecture was relaxing, the view was lovely. She wore a mask with her - a simple domino one. It would be relatively simple to recognize her, but one did the same in mixed company to be polite. And it would also separate her from any of her father's.. Underlings which might make an appearance and serve to bait them. Here was a time to actually relax, enjoy herself, and network.
    Pleasure rather than business, a time to catchup with associates.. And to just have a rare chance to relax in a den of morbidity. A goblet of wine in her hand, a small blade on her hip. A small one, more for practicality than anything else. NOt enough to present any sort of aggressive posture to any. Moreso for appearance. As was everything at these sorts of things.
    She would look up at the stars, take a quick glance around for those familiar and those not to remember to make conversation wtih later on throughout the eve.. And to try and also take note of any busybodies which may be trying to observe things.

Damian Wayne has posed:
This is an event that Talia would shine at. As such, when she arrives, there is a guard at her side. Dressed in the standard garb of the League of Assassins, his responsibility is to his charge, the Demon's Daughter. Only Talia and the guard know that it is in fact, Damian that has taken on this role - setting aside his role as Talia's son to be her guard instead.

As such, while Talia is the one that is dressed up and lovely with her mask, the guard wears standard colors and garb, with a mask that hides his face and at his side is a blade, simple and elegant as all are for the League of Assassins. He walks near, but behind the Demon's Daughter, quiet and watchful.

Wade Wilson has posed:
Wade Wilson showed up appropriately dressed which, in his case, means his usual red and black togs (with some sweet new kicks with soles that light up), along with a nice toga and a little laurel of leaves. Possibly basil or leaf spinach, he didn't really look at the bag when he grabbed it from the produce section.

"Steps. Lots of steps. Somebody saw Rocky too many times. And Rocky's a total babyface and let's face it, ain't no babyfaces here. This is the heel section, bad guy land, the worst people in the world - yes, you, I'm talking about you," he says.

He accosts a man with an eyepatch, grabbing at his beard, "Slade is that you? Speak to me old man! I'm your father's sister's cousin's former roommate!"

A lot of swearing in Russian ensues.

"Nope, not Slade. His Russian is way better than that! Nice try, comrade! Look at all these killers, maniacs and fiends. Brings a tear to my eye, honestly. My people. I love you all. Even when I'm paid to kill you."

Spiral has posed:
The little number that Spiral has shown up in looks suspiciously reminiscent of one of the multitude of costume switcheroo's that a certain billionaire popstar strutted about in. Homage would be the polite term. Outright theft would be more apt. The mini dress is golden and fringed, reaching down to about the thighs. The sleeveless garment is worn beneath a fur shawl, which matches the soft iconic boots further down.

Her hair has been brushed, and brushed, and brushed some more. Wavy and full of body, allowed to flow and threaten to be a nuissance. Style over practicality it seems, and the tips of the white silvery hair stained a dark red. A pair of shades over her peepers might obscure the seemingly pure whites of her eyes.

Of course, the six arms aren't going to fool anyone if she's thinking this getup serves as a disguise.

Her progress down the copious amount of steps is done with grace. She migrates her biz on down near the bottom of the venue and lowers her sunglasses to peer pointedly over the brim at those arriving. No visible weapons strapped or buckled on her person.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
Felicia Hardy has (almost) never killed anyone. Not her style, very messy.

But as the Black Cat, she runs in some less than reputable circles and associates with some naughty people. Exhibit one: there's her date for the evening, a large and somewhat permanently scowly-looking man of presumed eastern European ancestry. This man definitely has the chops to show up at an affair like this. Maybe he doesn't have a costumed identity, but what he has instead is a litany of Interpol warrants (current alias "Anatoli Sokolov") and a resume of war crimes and the worst sorts of criminal behavior. He's also built like a refrigerator and encourages rumors that he uses bootleg Red Guardian serum smuggled during the good old Soviet days. It may be true.

Despite all that, he's wearing a very expensive white suit, and would look good in it, if not for his face.

And the woman with him, of course, is cast in the opposite scheme. No catsuit, but a long, black bodycon dress that creates a not disimilar silhouette, with a white fur decorative collar suggestive of her signature look. The usual black domino mask is in place, as is her favorite little black choker.

She hangs off his side, traces a long nail down his arm. "This looks fun. So many dangerous people."

"Perhaps," he intones, surveying the crowd and looking unimpressed. "Come. Let us find drink." She follows along, like obedient arm candy. It is presumably all some elaborate ruse!

Sma'shaw Ihaka has posed:
Sma'shaw had a really strange habit of managing to get into these sorts of parties. He didn't even know if his invitation was intentional, but hells, he wasn't going to pass up this opportunity. He got the New Years suit all tailored up, and invested in some tailored dress pants while he was at it. The Hyena mutate was looking definitively more dressed to the part, and even had some whiskey shades and a garish tiger-print dress shirt to complete the fit. And now there was really one problem...

...Who the hell was he even going to talk to, here???

Like, okay, fair, he could probably just eat some shrimpies and dip. But what if people wanted to talk to the massive hyena freak? Egads, the though made him a little more nervous, almost as much as tripping and falling down all of these steps. Easy does it now, one foot at a time...

Flatline has posed:
    "HEY! I am *totally* a Baby Face!" comes a spirited response to Wade as he makes a complaint about someone's Russian -- and true to fact, among the ancient, the old, the skilled, there is in fact someone wearing black boots with little crossbones on them, and a black dress with stormcloud-gray damask done up like skulls and crossbones, who is popping a bright purple bubble of bubblegum as she hops down between cushions and swag. Flatline, sidekick to Toyko Crimelord Lord Death Man and who had been doin' up death and dismay in Gotham and New York had her short, bone-white hair freshly cut, kept in place with a rhinestone-covered coffin clip, and was wearing a domino over her bone-white face in the shape of a dainty skull, which does little to hide her identity. She pauses a moment to look over the crowd, spotting Talia and her guard. She sees the big hyena, and the fancy man with the bad face and the white suit and his very lovely companion for the evening.

    "Everyone's dressed to kill! What a great turn-out!" she states to no one in particular, and the deadly teen makes her way down to the floor, brushing a fingerless-gloved hand over her hair and bouncing briefly.

Talia al Ghul has posed:
Listening attentively, Talia Al Ghul goes to applaud over politely to Flatline making the dad joke, and glances over along the crowd. Going to give a few quick sign language flashes over to her escort. Speaking while the introduction to thee vents was going on would be rude. 'Do relax, but do pay attention'. Nothing was going to happen. For all their theatrics, villains did often play by the rules. They needed locations to mingle and relax at as much as anyone else did. And to network.
    But mostly for the free shrimp.
    Spiral is given a wary glance out of caution. Deadpool.. Gets a polite nod of her head. The two of them were the most dangerous ones here as far as she was concerned. Her body language alert and respectful to them.

Damian Wayne has posed:
There's a momentary pause as the guard makes notice of Flatline, and Damian doesn't drift closer to Talia, instead, he turns his attention to his charge, and continues his quiet watch. Nevermind that little hiccup, nothing to see here.

When Talia signals him, the guard tilts his head, paying attention to the words, and offers a polite bow of his head in acceptance of the words and unspoken orders. But he only relaxes just a smidge. After all, he knows the dossiers on most of the people here.

And the lug with Felicia has been running a gun racket into Gotham for a while. It's a target for him to consider once they have left the building. In other words, a problem for future Robin. Present Damian glances again towards Flatline, keeping an eye on her.

Wade Wilson has posed:
Wade Wilson makes the fingerguns at Talia. He couldn't quite remember which al Ghul she was - is the she mostly evil one who's good sometimes or the mostly good one who's evil sometimes? And there were probably other, lesser variations further down the bloodline, cause Ra's used that Lazarus pit like the grotto at the Playboy Mansion. RIP, Hef.

He finds himself paused momentarily in front of Spiral and holds up his hands, "Oh crap, Lady Goro's hotter than I expected. I knew this was an invitation to a Mortal Kombat tournament! Yes! I have my fatalities picked out and everything!"

Spiral has posed:
"...I forgot to bring a minion..." Spiral muses as she takes stock of the eye candy, gun show, who is who and in the know. A catty instinct has her narrow at some rather fine looking competition that's already here. It's reflex and not personal. Yet.

The glasses are flicked up and made to act as a headband. A little shake of her head to send her ear rings jingling and she tries to remember the whole point of this. A few mantras cycle through her head, their use intended to calm the voices, and she offers a weak smile. A few Mojoborger jingles offer commericals between the mental therapy and she decides she needs assistance in drowning the worst of them. Spiral stalks towards the help, snagging a trio of offered drinks from the masked help. Balancing the array of alcohol by hands on her hips on the opposite side. Just in time to be accosted by Wade, who is absolutely impossible to ignore. She stares at him, her bottom jaw threatening to hinge forward unappealingly. "DeeeePeeee." she hisses. "I can indulge you. Sequentially or all at once?" she then offers sweetly.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
The Russian mob stereotype and his date get their drinks. But booze alone doesn't entertain for long (really, it only helps maintain his steady resting blood alcohol level). Quickly enough, the man looks bored. "Is this it? Just music? For venue like this, I expected something more substantial for... entertainment."

Given his rap sheet, he probably doesn't mean a clown tying balloon animals.

Felicia stretches up gracefully to whisper some reassuring nothing, but then slips away from him. "There's all sorts of interesting people here, darling, I'm sure you can find some mutual business to talk about. Look, isn't that-" And she extends a pointy nail-tip over toward Talia.

"... yes, I think so. It is shame her father is not here." Still, it seems he's willing to 'settle,' moving in that direction.

Sma'shaw Ihaka has posed:
The yeen eventually managed to avoid playing plinko with the stairs, arriving safely at the shrimp table. It wasn't long before he was loading up his plate full of the bad boys, his snout chomping on the salty, tasty little meats. His eyes trailed over Talia...and he could've sworn he'd seen her somewhere before. Was this some form of super power fancy people get where if they attend enough fancy gatherings they begin to precognitively learn who people are?

...Man. Sma'shaw wasn't sure he was ready for that. But -damn- if the shrimp wasn't worth the price. Seriously, hopefully none of the security detail was going to get after him for being a glutton. The took a glass of wine while he was at it, but only for appearances sake. He was more of a mixed drink sorta guy.

Flatline has posed:
    Flatline gives a pause at the applause at her joke. She gives a wry little grin -- who wouldn't recognize Talia? -- and by now she has definitely learned Damian's walk. Her pinkish eyes narrow, and she hops down a few more steps, hikding the skirt of her dress up a little before she comes to rest in front of Talia. She gives a bright smile, the pale teenager giving a bow to Talia in a rare show of respect. She does give a cheeky grin and a wink to her guard.

    "Daughter of the Demon and the Daughter of the Demon's Guard. Nice to see you ttwwwwwoooooo again?" she ventures, trying to play up that she just can't be sure if it's the same guard.

    And she leans forward "Did you see the *giant* hyena behind me? Isn't that so cool?! I mean obvs, *not* as cool as /Talia al Ghul/ but still pretty cool!" the girl goes to stick her hands in her pockets, and finds that her dress does not have any. She gives a mildly miffed expression, and then looks all around.

    "Yeah this is gonna be an interesting party. So many people around! I can only *imagine* what I could have learned in their shoes!"

Talia al Ghul has posed:
They're here and enjoying themselves. Talia gives a nod at Deadpool, and then can't help but just stare a little bit over at Spiral. They came from different worlds (rather literally, though Talia certainly did not know that). Her attention would be turned in passing over towards the Russian mobster. To her he does seem rather out of place..

Why did the rest of them have to deal with the mongrel trash? Ah well. Waste not, want not. And hopefully after the event was over the man would be convinced that he wasn't wanted and was wasting all of their time. And then Flatline is up to the two and Talia gives the woman her full attention. "Have you tried the shrimp? It's quite excellent." And more importantly Flatline is able to completely help her be distracted from Spiral, which she does appreciate in a twisted way.

"Yes, it is there. And a pleasure to be recognized. A lovely event.. I might suggest you'd want to work just a litlte more on your introduction if you'll be catering to more of these. Have you ever heard the more informal names for tehse types of soirees?"

Damian Wayne has posed:
When Flatline comes to rest in front of the pair of them, Damian was more than willing to allow Talia to handle the conversation and the hostess. At least for the moment. However, the guard is looking around, and taking heed of his mother's advice, instead of speaking, there's a simple motion towards Flatline.

A single hand, offered to her, and a nod towards the dance floor. It would be a shame to allow the music to be wasted, after all. And it would open Talia to do her own mingling without his presence.

Wade Wilson has posed:
Wade Wilson points a finger at Spiral, "Don't tempt me, missy. I've wrecked ancienter ruins than these. Er, more ancient. Oh, fuck, now I'm going to have to look that up," he mutters, reaching into his toga and getting a phone out of one his unnumbered pouches. he was required to wear at least thirty seven pouches of flair per the regulations of the Liefeld Conglomerate, although he usually wore extra pouches to show his enthusiasm and personal style.

He tries to find something plinth-like to sit on, hopping up and dangling his legs off, adjusting his toga as needed for modesty, "Don't wanna pull a Sharon Stone."

"Hey, guys, it's me, Deadpool! Good to see everybody again! I'm here to do the In Memoriam segment. I am Deadpool, after all, please see my friend Weasel by the third men's portapotty if you want to settle any bets. Okay, let's see, the first deceased is oh, no, Herb Roberts? Not Dr. Skullf*cker! He was the best. Oh, I'm going to miss him at the chili cook off..."

Felicia Hardy has posed:
The advantage of encouraging 'her man' off to business is that, well, it frees Felicia of him. Because as soon as Anatoli makes his approach to Talia, he makes a rather dismissive gesture toward his date, shooing her off to enjoy the party. Does he not trust the details, perhaps even secrets, of his very important business to some random floozy? Possibly so. Poor neglected Felicia.

The cat slinks away, as cats do (to plot later revenge, presumably... or just eat a lot of shrimp).

"You are- ah, yes, of course you are." The man doesn't need to confirm that he's right, it turns out, because Flatline announces it very loudly. "I have heard many things about your father's organization. Assasins, ancient magic, ss very impressive!" Despite his grim look, the man, up close and personal, has an equally large personality to his frame, the kind of gregariousness that is not uncommon of those who think themselves the center of attention.

"Myself? No magic, ha-ha. And no shadow assassins." He smiles. "Just business. But we do a lot of business. Especially here." And he gestures to indicate their surroundings. Presumably, he means less the picturesque ruins, and more the crossroads of commerce that the region represents. The Russians are always looking for more access on this side of the Bosporus.

Flatline has posed:
    "I'm really looking at it as the closest thing I'll ever have to a Killer Prom, ma'am. The whole 'murdering family' thing. They won't allow me in American schools for proms because of the 'lack of documentation'." Flatline gives a small shrug, and gives a little bit of a smile as she steps out of BeefMan McWhiteSuit's way, her eyes dipping around the social function, watchingas Deadpool in his black-and-reds-and-toga climb up, she purses her lips, and then turns to Talia's 'guard'.

    Her eyes narrow, playfully, as she keeps an eye on the rest of the party. Plenty of people here to mingle.

    "A dance?" She asks the guard, and she might color -- a little bit -- to her cheeks and ears. "I'm not very good." she admits a shortcoming, and she gives a hand. "You'll have to lead."

Spiral has posed:
Spiral's eyes track Wade's movements, to the many pouches, to the way his mask moves with that motormouth. Little facial ticks torment her features. She has to very carefully try to sip at one of her drinks, and winds up downing the whole trilogy. The heat that goes down her throat is barely felt, because she wants to insert hot coals into the Merc with a Mouth. After all the nightmare cirus' she's been through, there's something about DP that drives her nuts. Or at least touches off the C4 boobytrapped throughout her subconscious. She raises her voice to add, "Leave room at the end, Wade. In case there's any last minute...additions." With a hair-flip, she's stalking off, muttering about crazy people to the overlap of voices in her head. She deposits the empty glasses on passing trays and heads of waitstaff.

Talia al Ghul has posed:
Talia al Ghul would smile over at Flatline and cock her head. "These sorts of things when it doesn't come to purely mingling are from.. Well, the source always changes. Whether the old ninja clans, the Maggia, monastaries in the mountains.. When the organization would have internal strife, when infighting would threaten to reach critical levels, they would have events like these. To try and lower the temperature, when all were on edge to try and prevent a schism when there were large external threats. They were called 'The Bad Guys Ball'."

Damian Wayne has posed:
When Flatline accepts the hand, the guard 'Tts' softly. "It is a simple two step. I'm sure you will be able to keep up." With that said, Damian's leading her to the dance floor. They find a spot to settle, and the guard lowers his face so that they are 'eye-level'. One hand is settled on Flatline's side, the other upon her shoulder. "Mirror my movement." he instructs.

And once she has her hands settled, he takes a step, "One." And a turn. "Two." Another step. "Three." And turn. "Four." A box step. He's starting her with a box step. Because, why not? He might also be teasing her a little.

Sma'shaw Ihaka has posed:
Meanwhile, out on the dance floor and three wines in, Sma'shaw cackles with the loopy little sway to his dancing, his tail going off at he popped shrimpies into his maw to CRONCH CRONCH CRONCH down on as the DJ kept the party vibes going. Okay maybe these venues were kinda worth being cursed with the clairvoyant knowledge of all rich folk in immediate party vicinity. He was having so much fun, that he almost bowled over Flatline and Damian in the middle of the floor!

"WhoOOOoop! Sorry, luvs, yeen's had a -HIC- bit much'a thuh bottle'o, heheheh~!" He wheezed with another loopy cackle, his amber eyes warm with bliss and glee. Notably, he had shrimps wrapped around his fingers like Ring-Pops, and seemed to be eating them at his leisure. What a guy!

Flatline has posed:
    Whether Flatline was lying about not being good at dancing, or she was actually that good at mirroring Damian's movements, her hands on Damian's shoulders as he can see, plainly, how amusing she's finding all this. She's able to keep up with his movements easily, coming to a box-step which she mirrors easily before she spots an incoming Australi-African feliform carnivoran with shrimps for rings coming at them! She gives a bright laugh, lifting Damian's hand to turn herself closer to him as the yeen nearly bowls them over.

    "What's up big guy? Not enough carbs to cut the booze?" she asks in a bright inquiry, pink eyes giving a bright sparkle in the multicolor lights from the DJ, before she looks back to Talia's Guard.

    "You gonna ask me about the sword again tonight, Stranger?"

Felicia Hardy has posed:
"Yes. Is important, to break bread, as the old saying goes," the mobster agrees, even if that part of the conversation isn't directly particularly at him. And with that, he lifts his glass in a gesture toward Talia. "Za zdorovye!"

"Still. I expected there would be... more." Mountains of cocaine? Hooker pits? "For just dancing? I could go to one of my clubs. Just opened new one in Chisinau. Very nice." Now he glances off toward the horizon, in the direction of the Aegean (Ionian? one of those), and declares. "After this, perhaps you would enjoy after party. I have yacht anchored off shore. Very nice." Very nice definitely means cocaine and hooker pits.

Felicia is still guarding the shrimp. Although here, perhaps to keep up appearances, she makes a show of looking mildly jealous as as 'her man' is off bothering another woman. Yes, yes, you cad, how terrible, how could you.

In goes another shrimp. "These are really good."

Talia al Ghul has posed:
And Talia goes to glance over at the man for a moment. "These are rather discrete affairs. And to network. We all wish to partake of quiet conversations.. With some exceptions on occasion." Cautious glance sent in the direction of Deadpool and Spiral. Her guard was off dancing wih the assassin, she was trying to make sure to give Spiral a wide berth.. And her historical reminisces being more whimsical and necessary.

"So, what brings you to this sort of venue?" Her speaking to the mobster while trying to bypass him towards the shrimp that were so tightly guarded while giving Felicia a very,v ery quick sympathetic glance. "You here looking for a job or looking to hire someone for one?" Of course now that she was partially cut off it was quite possible that Sma'shaw would be able to get to all of them.

Damian Wayne has posed:
With a stampeeding 'yeen approaching their position, Damian feels the tug of Flatline's hand, and he responds. It's a simple, elegant motion, a twirl of Flatline that flares her skirt as he turns her on the dance floor and keeps her within conversation range of the Sma as he passes by.

Once he's past, Damian continues the turn and twirling, moving Flatline in a full circle before bringing her right back towards where she was at the start of their dance and dips her over enough that she may need to kick up a leg to hold her balance.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." he replies when it comes to the inquiry about the sword. Flatline is not going to win that easily.

Flatline has posed:
    Flatline spins, and for a moment the teen is joyous. She feels weightless in a way that matters, turning on the toes of her black sneakers as her white hair lifts, a flash of teeth as Sma passes, and then she dipped, one leg does come up for counter balance, and as Damian states he has no idea, she just smiles sweetly, bringing her leg back down as she rises up.

    "I know your walk. Every step you take. Every beat of your heart. If I was *blind* I would know you by now." she smiles, black lips curling uncruelly, and she gives a small chuff of laughter.

    "But hey, if you gotta pretend you're not, that's fine~."

Felicia Hardy has posed:
"Simple curiousity," answers Anatoli. "And... How do you call it? Building networks. I do not do so much of the 'hands on' work myself, any more. At least, not for business." That in itself a somewhat grim admission; he has people for the wetwork, but still stoops occasionally... for the pure fun of it!

"And it is always good to have more names to call on, if something serious comes up." The man surveys the floor, looking over the gathering that has been drawn. "Still, this is... very colorful crowd. Perhaps too much for my need. But your organization? Very well-known. Good reputation. I think it would be valuable to do business. Build connections. Especially in this part of the world."

Now, at length, Felicia wanders back. Time to play girlfriend. "Anatoliiiiii are you still working? And who is -this?-"

Sma'shaw Ihaka has posed:
"Mwuh?" He peeked over at the two dancers, raising some shrimps in cheers to their fluid movements on the dance floor. Waves know he couldn't be that elegant with how bulky and built he is. He eats some of those feelings down with more seafood to fill that little void, grabbing another wine to soothe the soul while he's at it. "Aw, what a lovely couple they'd -HIC- make..." He stage-whispered to himself while imbibing in the strangely delicious wine. When did wine get this taste? And more importantly, who is spinning the world so fast. "Naaaah, Oi got plenty a carbs...Oi think." He mumbled in delay, cackling softly as he sloshed from side to side in his 'dance' routine.

Damian Wayne has posed:
"Oh, did you want an application to the fan club as well?" comes the flat question from Damian guard, as he continues to move across the floor with Flatline, the pair of them locked in a different type of combat. "So what's the game?" he asks her as they keep moving in their dance. "Just wanted to make some new friends. Does that mean you're done playing in Gotham?" he asks a twist to the left and back to the right as the box step becomes a tango.

There's a glance over towards Talia to make sure his mother is holding her own. "Don't worry, once you answer that, I'll let you go so you can get back to your mingling."

Talia al Ghul has posed:
Talia al Ghul would nod over at the Russian, "Ah, I see. I thought the Bravda (the loose organization that was the Russian mob, in the same way the Maggia was the Italian) tended to handle most matters internally. Good to see you branching out your operations. I'm sur that you'll find a good.. Variety about here." Flatline, Deadpool, Spiral.. Well, at least there were enough types about to handle the 'entertainment' routine. "And is Sergei a friend of your's or does he do jobs for you on occasion?" The way she said 'Sergei' which was a common enough name and yet with such specificity in a way that got her attention narrowed it rather considerably..

Watching her 'guard' out of the corner of her eye and his dance partner, looking at the shrimp forlornly that had mostly been abducted and too deliscious and too good for this world.. And poor Sma'shaw. The hangover from these types of things..
    Could be killer.
    Looking to Felicia, and speaking in Russian to her politely. "Are you on the job or not?" In a way that could imply if she was also Anatoli's watcher to make sure he didn't get into trouble..
    Or on something entirely different, depending on how much was read into it.

Flatline has posed:
    "Ha, if you had a fan club, I'd probably be in way more trouble." she offers as a light joke, considering their company as she plays, staying close to him, matching his movements smoothly as she regards Sma'shaw and his dancing, and carefully making him out in case there has to be someone to intercede on a spilled drink.

    She's pulled closer to him, and he could likely smell the scent of nun orchid on her, with a hint of spice. She gives a small curl of her lips, and her pink eyes dart up to his.

    "Are you ready to be done with me so soon? I thought we were friends." she offers, her fingers drawing up and tapping lightly against his chest as she turns, releasing his other shoulder and stepping away from his hand.

    "My poor broken heart." she lilts.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
There are no doubt a lot of 'Sergei's in his line of work, so it takes a moment for the man to center in on what, who, Talia means! Perhaps it's the colorful ensemble. Lots of Sergeis, not so many of them with identities so extravagant that they'd fit in here. For some reason, he looks over at the... is that a hyena-man? Well, no judgment among murderers. "Ah. Firend? No. As for work? That is his decision more than ours. I am sure you know, he is... particular. So much work is not so exciting as to be interesting to him. Small game, yes?"

Felicia takes the qustion posed to her, but looks confused. The man translates: "She asks if you are call-girl." This provokes a loud 'hmph.' "Anatoli doesn't need to -pay- for it." No, that's a lie, this guy definitely does. He probably gets his hookers wholesale.

Then she brags: "He's taking me to see his yacht later." Ah. That's probably her mark!

Damian Wayne has posed:
"I don't think I could be done with you if I wanted to." Damian responds with a roll of his eyes, but apparently she did catch him a little off guard. Because as she finishes with a relish and heads on her way with that little titter, he's left standing on the floor.

"Tt." he mutters in frustration, as he turns to find his way towards standing guard over Talia again. Flatline wins this time.

Talia al Ghul has posed:
Talia al Ghul would wait for those few moments as the man would figure out what just she was inquiring over, work up a reply.. He had more of a semblance of brains than she had given him up front. But the man so far was behaving himself, giving proper reasons for being here and a professional. She could respect that, and unlike her father be willing to make adjustments to her perceptions.

"And we haven't met. He seems to be enjoying the spread a bit more." She also expects that if said Sergei she was speaking of were here there would be a throw rug of the hyena man after. Felicia gets a sympathetic look and a faux smile. "Of course. Just do remember.." She would turn to Sergei cheekily. "It's said the happiest day of one's life was when they bought a boat. The next happiest day was when they sold it." Having an inkling as to who would be taking the keys to said yacht..
    Turning to let her son approach her. "I hope that your partner was up to your standards. Did you enjoy yourself?"

Felicia Hardy has posed:
"Yes, is true," Anatoli readily agrees. "They are terrible investment. Very expensive, much depreciation, costs for fuel and staff." He lists these like they're problems, but then turns them around into a brag: "But sometimes, when you have so much money, there is nowhere else to put it, da? And there are advantages, in international law, as far as sea-going vessels go. Can be useful, for evading... certain legal restrictions." He might mean that in the 'do weird shit in international waters' way, or in the 'avoid foreign sanctions' way, or both! Who knows. Boats, very versatile.

"His is soooooo big," Felicia pipes in to coo. The boat. She's talking about the boat.

Still, this makes the man grin, as is no doubt the intent. And it is then that Damian returns, drawing a curious glance toward the young man. He has little cause to know who he is, but the protectiveness in his stance still speaks volumes of its own. "I will not trouble you further. But, if interested... perhaps we will talk. We will be off shore for the week. I leave contact with, ah, staff. Perhaps you come." But for now, he seems intent on other things, turning to pull Felicia closer. "Come along, kotik. Let us go see boat."

Flatline has posed:
    Flatline climbs a couple steps, watching with a wary eye as she looks out the crowd. The sloshed Yeen with the shrimps. The League of assassins. The Black Cat and her Prey.

    And her eyes fall back to Damian, playing guard for his mother. She takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly.

    Don't get feelings, Nika, she chides herself.

    We're all just dead people walking.