18235/Can't you read the sign lady

Can't you read the sign lady
Date of Scene:	08 June 2024
Location:	Iceberg Lounge
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Oswald Cobblepot, Tessa, Harry Leland, Caleb Dykstra

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Oswald Cobblepot has posed:
The Iceberg Lounge gets a lot of strange people, especially on a Friday night, this Friday night is no exception. The well known nightclub is playing jazz tonight with a live band. A few people have decided to dance, but for the most part most of the guests have opted to sit at the booths, and bar. Penguin himself isn't anywhere to be seen at the moment.

A bit of ruckus at the entrance might turn a few heads however, as a woman in a skirt, no shoes, and wearing a mouse mask is trying to gain entry. One of Penguin's henchman, a large giant of a man with a thick Brooklyn accent blocks her, "Can't you read the sign lady? No shoes? No service."

Tessa has posed:
Tessa gives Leland one of her patented flat looks as they watch from their booth. It has an excellent view of the entrance and is just far enough from the live music to hear it but not have it drown out their conversation. "Leland, dear, where did you hear about this place? It has... character." It's odd to be at any establishment outside of her own, but Leland had business and Shaw had meetings. Tessa volunteered herself along, leaving the Club in her king's more than capable hands. She smooths her hand down her skirt, eyes flicking over their security.

Harry Leland has posed:
"Reconnaissance, my dear." he replied absently as his eyes raked the crowd. Next to him, a man in a good suit with a Hellfire lapel pin kept an uneasy eye on things. He was clearly the jumpiest of the four people at the table. He patted his thick attache case. "I think there could be some untapped opportunities here, despite its quite unsavory reputation." he mused. "The owner of this establishment fancies himself something of a player, despite interference from the vigilante community that infests this city. And anyone who can seize opportunity from chaos is someone worth keeping an eye on, at the very least. Purple folders." he told his companion.

Oswald Cobblepot has posed:
The strange, shoeless woman in the mask protests, "I thought this was -the- place to party.. come on be a gentleman and let me in.." She's clearly intoxicated but soon the people behind her demand that she get thrown out. The big bouncer sighs and begins to escort her away from the line, to the applause of the people behind her. Another henchman takes his place in the meantime.

Penguin finally arrives, his suit free of wrinkles, a cigarette on a long filter in his mouth, monacle perfectly straightened, and his iconic top hat resting on his head. A bit of hair flows behind it. Oswald Cobblepot draws attention as he leaves one of the elevators that lead up to the Lounge proper. He shakes hands with a few well known associates and offers a nod to the rest.

Tessa has posed:
Tessa nods. "It is good to spread our network out. More branches, better networking. We've had a few of the Gotham socialites on the roster, why not offer them that same experience at home?" She graces Harry with one of her rare public smiles as her eyes flit over the folder, tucking it all into the appropriate partition. "Excellent work, Harry." That first name use is rare as well, Tessa preferring her strict formality in public. Her eyes hover just over his shoulder for a moment. "I see the esteemed owner has appeared. Cole, Macon. Please go order the table a round - do not argue with me, Cole. We will be perfectly safe in this booth and I will wave one of you over should that need to change." She stares at him evenly, then nods. "Thank you. Your usual, Mr. Leland? Two of them, perhaps, so our leashes can feel more secure."

Harry Leland has posed:
He just chuckled. "The usual, yes." he said as their guards scooted off like the ex-operators they were to go fetch drinks. "They mean well." he said with a sigh. "My analysis is that there's a fair amount of untapped potential here, if the local community can be appeased. Legit opportunities are thin, unless we need a variety of tax shelters. Which is Plan Charlie." he said, patting a different dossier before pushing it deeper into the attache case. "WayneCorp does a great deal of charitable giving in the city and I'd suggest we avoid stepping on anything that remotely resembles his toes. Now, Mister Cobblepot here is a different story." he said. To settle his nerves and give him a welcome balm, he took an expensive Cuban cigar from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, expertly cut the end, then used a wooden match to get the cigar going.

Now that was pleasant indeed. And he was careful to aim his smoke away from Tessa. "Did you get a chance to run the numbers I sent you?" he asked her.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
Caleb is in something of a hurry. A hurry to get to safety because... He's being tailed.

His plan was to go to a church as incognito as he could, and speak to a priest about the trouble that's been plagueing the community. All this with the intent to get Holy water.

Meanwhile, on the way here, Caleb finds himself tailed by two low-lives - he could've sworn he saw them die before, at the hands of vampires, which might just make it worse. So, if a good number of years of experience have taught him, it's where to find a safe spot to gether his thoughts and plan the next move.

Having come from inside the bathrooms, he heads straight for the bar, passing by the trio. "Club soda", he orders with determination in his voice. One could almost swear they could hear the gears in his head working.

Oswald Cobblepot has posed:
Penguin is oblivious to the woman who was escorted away moments ago and has no idea that someone snuck into his club. To him this is just another ordinary evening, if you don't count the vampire attack a few nights ago..

Oswald finishes making his rounds and retrieves a glass of straight vodka from the bar. The warmth and slightly loosened nerves from the drink allow him to be a somewhat less reclusive version of himself, but not too much so.

Tessa has posed:
Tessa slides the folder back to Harry, watching the bar. Some of the patrons are quite interesting, while others are exactly what she expects. Her eyes narrow on a young man that passes. "Hm." She doesn't elaborate, but it's easy enough to follow the man her eyes are tracking. "All types," she murmurs after a long moment, seeing Cole and Macon returning to the table, glasses in hands. "We may have to approach the owner directly, Mr. Leland."

Harry Leland has posed:
Leland took one of his drinks with his free hand and took a hefty swallow. "Gah." he said. "Their Scotch is terrible." he said. "No, worse. Altered. With water." he said, pushing the drink away. "And yes, I believe we will. Gentlemen, if I could ask you to clear a path..." he said, gathering up his attache case and his cigar. Time to go see if Mister Cobblepot had anything to offer.

Cole and Macon obediently stepped out of the booth, experienced bodyguards, and as Tessa and Leland slid out of the booth, they took up positions on their flanks.

Caleb Dykstra has posed:
Caleb gets the soda he asked for, and gulps it down almost in one go. "Another", he asks. And his eyes keep watching the bathroom he just came out from.

Until they break off to see the two security goons open a path for Harry and Tessa. 'Danger?', his brain ponders. 'No.' And they look in the direction they're headed, whom is clearly the owner - Oswald Cobblepot, a.k.a. The Penguin.

'Yeah, this can't be good, can it?'

Oswald Cobblepot has posed:
Penguin takes another drink from his vodka, this time smaller. He is about to make another round about the Lounge when he notices a group of people approaching him. Turning to face them, Oswald offers a smile, but you can't see it in his eyes, "Good evening." His aristocratic, posh London accent is mired by his slightly raspy voice, "I hope you are enjoying yourselves this evening. I am Oswald Cobblepot, owner of the Iceberg Lounge."

Harry Leland has posed:
Leland nodded to Mr Cobblepot as Cole and Macon took up their respective positions, a step back and to the side of their principals. "Mister Cobblepot." he said courteously, gesturing with the hand that held his cigar. "My assistant, Tessa." he said, gesturing to the raven-haired beauty at his side. "May we join you?" he asked courteously. "I believe my people have been in touch." he reminded the squat little gargoyle - not that he had much grounds to comment on anyone's physique, really.

Tessa has posed:
Tessa's face holds a very faint smile. "Your jazz musicians are a treat," she responds in lieu of a greeting, "and your bartender mixes a smooth Pegu Club. I appreciate their attention to detail. As Mr. Leland said, I am Tessa, and I oversee daily operations at the New York Hellfire Club. Lovely to make your acquaintance." Her smile doesn't reach her eyes either, but the number of times it has done so in public still number in the double digits. She keeps track.