20032/Bats Don't Dance

Bats Don't Dance
Date of Scene:	07 February 2025
Location:	Pike Hotel
Synopsis:	Incomplete.
Cast of Characters:	Damian Wayne, Zatanna Zatara

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Damian Wayne has posed:
Pike Hotel located in the heart of Midtown, is downtown cultural center tonight. The walls are laced with various forms of artwork, performers, musicians, and the like. 'Performers for change' they called it, a charity event determined to gather funds for the Thomas and Martha Wayne Orphanage sponsored by Wayne Enterprises. Its presentations span a wide variety of genres, from dance, theater, music, film and performance art.

Tonight? A Wayne is present.

The venue itself was one that Damian had frequented often when he attempts to assume a different identity so he can enjoy time to himself. Every artist from classical to provocative finds a welcoming home here. There's even supposedly a production of the Tempest that will take place in the hotel theater. Tonight? It's a big event. Anyone who's anyone is here.

Though the man is wearing a black three-piece suit with a silver watch and nice shoes? He's dressed in a tux that is worth more than some people's homes. Yet, despite how nicely he's dressed and how often he's mingling?

One can tell he cannot *wait* to get the hell out of here and be in his 'real' outfit. Hopefully things actually get better than 'please Mr. Wayne, give us money'.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Smart mages don't turn down IOUs from the Bat Family.

Whether a Drake or a Wayne, a Crown or a Kane, a wise woman accepts the shining silver invitation and tucks it away for later.

Something less dramatic than apocalyptic danger brings her to The Pike on Damian's arm, all eccentric glamour. Charity galas and philanthropic events feel thin on the ground in the first quarter while the city's nouveau riche and filthy rich recover from Christmas blowouts. This affair could be deemed livelier and less formal than something involving swanning CFOs or shocking displays of performative generosity.

The last woman standing stands out in deliberate, sharp perfect lines, her highly pigmented ruby lips a contrast to the black corset dress that cuts close to the stage persona. Negotiating on stiletto heels is an artform unto itself. "No," she demurs from a passel of inquiries, including a dubious journalist. "I don't plan on swinging from a trapeze or a rope, gentlemen. You've mistaken me, but that is quite understandable." No, it isn't, but her red-lipped smile does not give that away.

"Pardon me, darlings, I need to--" Turn that way, which calls for a veering line for the nearest decoy. Thanking the young Mr. Wayne? Of course. Her heels hardly click, she could be mistaken for not wanting to set off a staccato gunfire rapping around sensitive folks. Heading to Damian becomes a journey fortified by stealing a glass of wine, the better to add to her ostensible tab.

Damian Wayne has posed:
Smart Bats don't turn down IOU's from smart mages.

As Damian mingles and tries to find a quiet corner to promptly and ever so subtly tell most of the aristocrats present where they can shove it. Though, he had first arrived here with Zatanna on his arm. Course, the press ate it all the way up. 'Heir to the Wayne Foundation and the Mistress of Magic dating?!' He's positive TMZ is going to get all the dirtsheet rage for it. But, well, Damian would be a poor date if he didn't match her.

That said, he turned his green eyes to Zatanna and his stoic expression turned into a slight grin. He moves to meet her in the middle, reaching for a drink off of a waiter's plate.

"And how are you enjoying your evening?" He asks her, looking around at the gossip that's already stirred about, the old men staring, the women gasping and laying the foundation for saturday morning coffee. "Any of them attempt to book you on a tour?"

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Whatever devastation wine normally commits against lipstick, a proper liner and fixative provide something of a barrier. Zatanna brings the glass to her mouth. Not a smudge left behind yet, though the first kiss would be something special to displace the ruby finish.

The red barely meets her skin, trace elements on the palate. It's gauche to take more in mixed company, ever a hazard with comedian-singers and rappers flowing around on all sides. Black-haired and self-possessed icon stumbling, a louche? Not the headlines she wants on social media. Celebrity gossip is a bitch, as surely Damian himself knows.

Whatever he's gotten himself into, she extricates him from with those calm eyes settling on him. "Always an enchanting evening to reacquaint myself with the newest starlets." Arm candy for gangsters, real up and comers? "I refer all inquiries to my agent, darling," she fires back, silken smooth. Her gaze rises past him to a hopeful blonde in a backless blue satin dress. "Blame me for staying closer to home. You can't hide from the world here. How would you like to seize the weekend early?"

Damian Wayne has posed:
Celebrity gossip, is indeed, the bitchiest of bitches.

Damian has seen good men fall to the slightest rumor of a PR nightmare. Perception is everything, even at the most simplest of events. Damian seemed to smirk only a moment as he offered Zatanna his arm, seemingly appreciative for the save from the various looks they most certainly get. "Noted." Regarding inquiries. "Though your agent is notoriously difficult to reach. Be a shame if I had to go to an event by myself one of these days."

A playful tease, to be certain, though he follows her gaze to the hopeful blonde, before looking back on her with a raised brow.

"Urgently, eagerly, and by the horns. How about yourself?" He met her eyes then, a hair taller than her as he stayed close enough to sell it. Though he did indeed wonder what she might have had in mind for so-called seizing of the weekend.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Who isn't a celebrity around Gotham? 15 minutes of fame has to stretch to include an awful lot of people.

Zatanna's used to the limelight, her existence saturated in the glow from television cameras, stage lights, and socials since childhood. She shrugs off casual interest, the porcelain smiling mask in place as solidly as he wears one darting through slushy streets afterhours. Predilections hardens them to their Carnivale roles after all.

"So difficult? Have you tried to reach me without success? Naughty bunny." Slanting a look through dark, lush lashes in Damian's direction, she shakes her head almost imperceptibly. Black waves sway a little. "I shall have a word." Poor rabbit, not knowing what's about to come down the pipeline, unless 'Bunny' is a cognomen for someone back in the Halls of Justice. "To think, ships passing in the night?"

A faint trace of sandalwood rises from her skin, stitched by a shot of dark pear and flirtations of artemisia or spices. "By the horns?" She raises her brows, the smile widening a bit behind the glass. Still full enough, doubtful anything more than a taste begins. "I'm a creature of decadence and nights. What do you think?" Those dangerously effective stilettos tap ever so lightly. Hard to be much more on toepoint. "I never waste an hour."

Damian Wayne has posed:
Naughty bunny? Can't say Damian has ever been called that before. But since it's Zatanna? She most certainly gains a pass. A little chuckle rumbled in Damian's throat at the comment, before he looks at her. "Hopefully a good one. Your agent seems to have done right by you so far." ships passing in the night, doomed to always cross paths but never to truly meet. "Or in this case, starcrossed." Doomed to a terrible end.

Her smile was always captivating even as she seems surprised by his choice of words. She admits that she's a creature of decadence and nights, of delights and bright lights. Damian meets her eyes. She claims she was never quite one to waste an hour, and whether it was in a suit or in the Batcave with a cape on? "Neither do I." And just as he says such a thing, he had leaned in to cover the scarce distance between them, just enough to press his lips right to the corner of her own in a gentle kiss.

A gentle, warm touch. Seems Zatanna isn't the only flirt here tonight with the touch of ambrosia and the scent of lilac.

"Then let me ensure your time isn't wasted."