3839/A Magician and Vampire walk into a bar...

A Magician and Vampire walk into a bar...
Date of Scene:	17 October 2020
Location:	The Wick
Synopsis:	While doing her mandatory socializing, Zatanna discovers Ariah and checks her out- mystically that is!
Cast of Characters:	Zatanna Zatara, Ariah Olivie

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Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Friday night in Manhattan usually means packed bars, and even a place like The Wick, with its... particular favor among certain clientel, is not totally immune to this phenomena. There may have been a point where the somewhat old-fashioned establishment fell out of favor, but it's precisely the sort of place the hipsters would bring back.

This fact annoys Zatanna, somewhat!

Nonetheless, the famous stage magician is, despite that particular title, managing to blend well enough. No tux, tails and fishnets when she's off-duty, but rather jeans and a fuzzy white sweater, proper attire for the onset of a somewhat chilly fall in the city. Dressed down, she doesn't stand out nearly so much, and she's acquired a seat at a table in one corner, where at least the geometry of the room, rather than any sort of magical protection, wards off the college kids and other younger bargoers. Mostly, anyway. But having a table to yourself provides a convenient excuse to anyone who gets up the courage to come by: it's easy to pretend you're waiting for someone, even if you're not.

Or is she?

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Speaking of college students, or younger bar-goers, a ... person enters the bar. Short of stature, under five feet tall, and if not for the snug teeshirt worn under a jean jacket, it would be rather difficult to discern the small woman's gender. Her hair is short, and she's out in the most casual outfit she owns. The jeans and sneakers really do her zero credit, and with the crowd and all, she most certainly ends up being carded.

    Ariah makes it in, however, after some scrutiny, and starts looking for a place to sit. The din and the crowd do give her pause, however, and she starts to work her way around the edge of the room to find a side or corner table that's unoccupied, inevitably leading her towards Zatanna in the corner.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Well, after the table's current occupant chases off the last of several college boys trying the same thing, one might rate Ariah's subsequent approach toward the unoccupied seat as 'optimistic'...

...but in fact, no sooner than she approaches, Zatanna looks up from what is apparently a book (who goes to a bar to -read-?), muttering something as she gestures across the way to the facing chair. Her expression is almost expectant... and is it a trick of the light, or did the chair just slide out ever so slightly, as if by the polite hand of some unseen spirit?

Or maybe she just kicked it.

"I don't think we've met- I'd remember," she declares, allowing the other woman the opportunity to speak. "Which, well, I thought I knew most of the regulars here, but admittedly, I was a little busy doing my shows for the summer season. Zatanna Zatara."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    It's actually by complete accident that Ariah makes it to the table. She had noticed the boys, but had really been only looking for a quiet place to sit. The woman with the book is definitely the best prospect for some peace, and possibly more. Conversation. A meal. In more than one way. But she does pause, sharp eyes noticing the little nudge of the chair and narrowing.

    It's a couple of heartbeats before she moves in, however, and takes the offered chair. She settles in, closing her eyes for a moment, then looking back to the Lady Z. "Ariah," she greets, simply. "I am less of a regular but this is not my first time here..." she explains, voice soft and cold, accent thickly French. "Bonsoir, Mademoiselle Zatara," she says, still with a voice like ice, but ever so polite.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
If you believe in accidents!

There is definitely something about Zatanna's demeanor, that subtly knowing smile, that suggests a commanding comfort with her surroundings, a refusal to be surprised by the subtle vicissitudes of existence. Like she's in on the joke, before you even know what it is. "Truthfully I'm not either," she admits, as goes for the title of bar regular. "I live in Gotham, for starters, and spend so much time at bars and lounges on the road that it can seem a bit more like work than relaxation to spend my free time at one. Plus it's John's sort of place, and that's reason enough to dislike it it."

But she does have a drink, to go with her book, and thus seems at least complicit in the social ritual. "Anyway, I do make it a point to get to know newcomers. You could call it precautionary - no offense intended - one can just never be too careful in this line of work. Why don't you tell me a little about yourself, Ariah?"

A pause. "For starters, what are you having?" She jiggles her glass.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah does look a litle uncomfortable. Maybe it's the fact that Zatanna does seem to have a leg up on her. Or that this really isn't her sort of establishment. "Gotham," she repeats, slowly nodding. "Oui, I have been there a few times..." she trails off, lips pursed. She never did solve some issues there. "Are there better places to read and drink in Gotham? I like to visit the book exchange boxes..." she gives a little ghost of a smile to Zatanna. Then she's asked some questions, and the small woman blinks owlishly when she's asked about herself.

    The time it takes her to not answer is enough for that pause to end, and she glances at the glass. "...this is unfortunately not the right sort of establishment to order ice wine... I would desire a Tokyo tea if the former is unavailable." Her grey eyes watch the glass before meeting Zatanna's. "What do you drink?" she asks.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Better? I don't know about that, it's mostly about atmosphere, isn't it? And that's a hard thing to quantify. New York is trendier, if you go for that, while Gotham- well, either you can afford the upscale establishments, or you appreciate a good dive. Still, it's got some old world charm, hidden here and there..." And after a moment, realizing she's giving a discourse on a topic that she would rather NOT be known for, Zatanna ammends: "I prefer not to think of myself as too much of a connoiseur when it comes to bars, anyway. Isn't it reason to worry, when you are?" She gives a little fuzzy-shouldered shrug.

"As for reading, the best place for that is curled up on a couch in my den, with the fireplace going, all of which does happen to fall within Gotham city limits, so the city has that going for it." Now she puts on a properly wistful smile. "I'd be there, but I had a feeling it was a good night to come out." More of that inscrutable, too-knowledgable routine.

As for Ariah's taste in drinks, Zatanna remarks: "Oh, I was just having a merlot. But at least you're not a whiskey drinker. I don't know if I could bear another. I'm not sure about the ice wine, and I've never heard of the other one, but the advantage of a trendy scene is well-trained mixologists." She manages to get a hold of a beleagured waitress after a while, who has heard of Long Island ice tea if not a Tokyo one, but is willing to take the order to the bartender, who with his fashionably bushy beard and lumberjack aesthetic, /does/ know. Hooray!

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "I am bound here," Ariah says rather simply. "The school, rather, I attend the college. The library here is also well-stocked," she explains. "Gotham is not unpleasant. It is rather dark and I do not find that distasteful..." she rattles on softly, shaking her head. "Knowledge is knowledge, non? I find myself visiting places I may play music or sing, at times."

    Then the talk of reading, being curled up, in front of a fire with a good book. That little ghost of a smile grows a hint larger, and there's a flicker of something playful in the smaller woman's eyes. "It almost sounds as if you are inviting me to partake in your den, mon cher, non?" There's that playful, a hint of a flirt, but her expression remains... mostly neutral.

    "I am... not a fan of whiskey. My homeland is known for its wine, after all..." she says quietly, nodding in regards to the merlot. "My family owned a winery... some time ago." There's a little pause when she says this, avoiding the addition of extra details and specifics that would largely go unneeded. Or give herself away, perchance.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Oh, I'll not argue that, New York has some of the best libraries- in the world, perhaps, even if some Europeans might chafe at the idea. Even excluding the college collections, the public system is extremely impressive. And with the park just outisde, it's quite convenient, although I find the Jefferson Market branch even more charming- that old building is just divine." Yes, while Zatanna can manage to sound incredibly unenthusiastic, even mildly antagonistic toward alcohol (again, blame John!), when it comes to books, well... it's not hard to get her to just go on and on!

"And you're right, Gotham is very dark. And you're also wrong, in that it is also occasionally unpleasant. But home is home-" She smirks. "At least for now." When your home is magic!

However, she does add a chiding 'tsk' to the end. "I don't share my cozy den easily, although it is not unlikely that you'll get to come and visit sooner or later, once I've satisfied my curiousities. I maintain quite my own library, not so large as these public affairs of course, but more purposefully focused in terms of its contents. Because of that, I do open my doors, from time to time, to my trusted associates."

As the whiskey goes: "A point in your favor, that one." POOR JOHN. "Not any longer?" she wonders about the winery. "Shame to lose something like that, when it's in the family. My home is quite a large part of my own inheritance."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "Not wholly unpleasant, if I may elaborate on my words," Ariah corrects herself. "It has long shadows, and darkness runs deep. But it is not a place I would shy from?" she amends and adds. "I adore places of knowledge, and places of quiet. It is fortunate they are often one in the same. And oui... while many institutions in Europe are older, the collection here in the city is magnifique..." she exhales a breath, not quite containing her appreciation of it.

    The little witch's smile remains, even regarding the tease about the library and the opening of doors. "I would be curious as to what your focus is, mademoiselle?" she asks, glancing up when her drink arrives. It's a tall glass of translucent green liquid with ice cubes floating in the top. Gingerly, she takes it, and brings the thin red straw, contrasting her black-painted lips, and takes a slow drink. Then she nods at Zatanna, "It was a casualty of the second world war," she clarifies. "As said, some time ago. It would be flourishing now..." she trails off, wistfully.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Oh, it certainly has its fans," Zatanna allows, for the 'not wholly unpleasant' (but still sorta kind of awful?) Gotham. "The city has quite a history. For most, that has been a history of decline, in comparison to the various great metropolises," pun slightly intended, "in its vicinity. But history does impart character. A place like that always has its ghosts." Figurative or, given this conversation, perhaps very much literal.

"Me? Well, I work as a stage magician, I'm only just a little offended you haven't heard of me." Truthfully, though, it's not like 'Magician' is exactly a hot celebrity gig in 2020. Seems she missed the glory days of... Mindfreak. "Obviously that lends itself to certain tricks, but I'm really something of a generalist. Maybe that's a failing of focus, although I find it never hurts to be well-rounded." And despite all her confidence, Zatanna is not actually prone to /brag/, even if she has every right to.

The mention of her family's historic loss earns a suitably sympathetic look. "A shame. We always think of the more obvious losses, of damage to wealth and infrastructure of the more typical kinds, but culture, history itself even, they're also frequent casualties of human conflict."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah nods, "I do like to travel between the big cities. Different libraries, different books, different places to sing and play and listen to music..." she explains quietly. "The shadows and ghosts do not concern me," she adds, and takes a drink. "History is full of them."

    She quirks a brow at the mention of stage magic, and there might even be a hint of doubt in her expression but she doesn't let it enter her tone. "Non, it is not a... well-sought vocation. The attention spans of people lend themselves to more... immediate and outrageous thrills..." She pauses to pull her phone out of her pocket, a current model smart device, likely ridiculously expensive, and gives it a look of disgust before putting it back into her pocket. "Far less appreciation for art, and more want for instant, visceral gratification..." she muses and takes another drink.

    "Your skills as a magician must be something, oui? Illusions and sleight of hand can go a long way, even for observers who are actually paying rapt attention... a testament to those skills... I do not have the subtlety to perform such tricks," she says bluntly and leans back, holding her drink in both hands now.

    A solemn nod is given at Zatanna's assessment, "So much lost in that war... things unrecoverable... history, culture, and families that they are attached to, or are attached to them..."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Well, I don't know that what I do is exactly high art either. The history of magic on the stage is full of 'outrageous thrills,' to steal your phrase," Zatanna points out with a flash of amusement. "All kinds of sensational acts, performed with varying amounts of artistry and /con/-artistry. But," and she notes the appearance of the phone, "you're right in regards to the immediacy of digital media over a live show, I can hardly argue with that. Vegas will always draw a certain crowd, since it's sort of an... outrageous place itself, but the stage show is definitely in the decline. What can I say, though? It's also a family inheritance. My father did it before me. I imagine he got better crowds, back in the day."

As for her skills? "Oh, I'd say I do alright." More of that humility to contrast her calm certainty. "Of course, there's layers and layers of that sort of thing, from what you mention, simple slight of hand, to complex enchantments, illusions to fool every sense, truly vast and unknowable mysteries..." For a moment, it sounds like she might be talking about, well, quite a bit more, but caps those solemn words with a joke: "...But I mostly save those for the weekend shows."

Turning from the grim topic of history, she wonders, "So you say you study here? Tell me a little about that." And its back to the mild sense of being interrogated, albeit over drinks, and in a seemingly very friendly and pleasant manner.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "Oui, it is more than fast hands and a pretty face, but I can easily see you have one if not both, mon cher," Ariah says quietly, resuming her hold of her beverage in both hands. She may be at a loss, speaking with a stranger, bordering... intimate topics about vocations and skills. But she maintains that chilly, if slightly thawing demeanor. Her voice remains steady, icy, and soft, but there's no darkness in her words. No malice. Just the way she sounds, really. "A family vocation? It is... rare, these days, to see one follow the family business. I never followed into winemaking, as an example..."

    Then there's certainly a quirk of a silver brow at the elaborate descriptions of the magic the other woman does, and again comes the faintest expression of doubt. Suspicion, too, perhaps. Ariah's magical senses aren't as acute. Or subtle. So she refrains from reaching out--for now. At best she can hear that heartbeat--in addition to the other odd dozens around them. "Oui... vast and unknowably mysteries..." there's a light, slightly raspy chuckle.

    And then it's back to questioning. "Art history, music. The treasures of the past that yet remain, despite the wages of never-ending human conflict," she says, well-rehearsed, or completely sincere about those feelings. "I play violin as well." It is fair enough, after all, that Zatanna shared her hobbies, why should Ariah give anything but honesty back with her own when asked?

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Oh, now we're on to pure flattery," Zatanna remarks, though not without her lips curling in a slightly fuller smile, dimpling her cheeks just a little. "Though you're right, they don't hurt. Actually, if you were familiar with my act, you'd understand that I am quite shameless in exploiting every advantage on the stage. You've got your phone out," she then points out, eying the device, "why not google me, I'm sure a few will pop up." Indeed, even if she's far from a household name, there's likely to be plenty of material on line. And pictures! Obviously pictures. And since she's not about to 'gnikrow sehtolc' in the middle of the bar, it's probably the easiest way to show off her style.

"Perhaps you might have continued the trade, if you'd still had the vinyard," Zatanna then suggests, a touch wistfully. "But yes, in that regard, I am rather something of a daddy's girl. He taught me nearly everything I know, of the craft and performance." Which she separates, although perhaps in average conversation this is hardly suggestive of much.

"Oh, so you're actually making a career of things old and beautiful, that's admirable, and quite the way to honor what history has taken, finding other things that might be preserved, studied, and appreciated," she reflects. "Oh, and you play as well. Now there's a true art. I'm jealous." And she's being sincere!

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah puts her drink back on the table when the mention of checking her phone comes. "I do not flatter. I speak truths when it comes to most things." Well, that's not suspect at all, is it. "Especially when it comes to flirting with beautiful stage magicians. You are my first, mon cher," she says, that ghost of a smile momentarily turning into a small grin. Playful. But she does bring up her phone, and has... a time with it. It takes her a few tries to even get free of the unlock screen, and the act of actually inputting a search term and getting results, despite the speed of the phone, would have made your average millenial die of boredom by how long it takes--and how frustrated she looks.

    The moment she does have pictures up, however, is very obvious. Her eyes widen, and there's a faint hint of pink on those pale cheeks. "Oh mon Dieu..." she expresses quietly, then nods and puts her phone back down. "Yes, sincere and not flattery, mon cher, very beautiful... and very distracting..." she trails off with another nod, and takes up her drink, the glass half-empty by now.

    "Non, not a career. I have no need for money. I am well cared for by my mother. She allows me all of the time I require to study, to learn. I am forever interested in the arts. France is a cultural center, after all, and it is in my blood." She perks a little at the mention of her playing, too, and maintains that faint little smile. "I could play for you, in exchange for seeing your den and your collection," she offers.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna sits back as Ariah works with her phone, awaiting the inevitable result of the search and what she expects to be at least a bit of a surprise reaction. Yet as the other woman struggles with the device and the search takes an increasing amount of time, she can't help but look even more amused. Of course, it may also be the sort of detail she files away as part of this totally not an interrogation: what young woman, regardless of where she's from, would be quite that clueless with their phone?

So, Zee has to WAIT on the reaction a bit, but she still looks quite satisfied with what she eventually gets. Maybe she doesn't brag about her vast magical powers, but there is a definite pride in seeing her stage ensemble hit the mark. "I'll take that as a good review," she remarks of Ariah's exclamation, nevermind the flush. "Although it's sort of part and parcel to doing that kind of work, at those sorts of venues. It's Vegas after all, famous city of sin... and drive through hooker marriages." An eyeroll at the last suggests tolerance versus full embrace of that culture: but its a gig!

"Well that's nice, and a good thing I suppose, there's a reason parents aren't usually to hear about their kids becoming Art History majors. So being able to pursue the arts without worrying about how to make a career of it is probably a relief." Here, Zatanna lifts her glass and drains the last. "Admittedly, with Shadowcrest and what else my father left, I don't suppose I really need to keep doing these shows, but as you said, it really is about continuing the legacy. For him, for the profession as a whole, it would be a shame to just give it up, even if it would mean more comfy nights reading in front of the fire."

Having mentioned this cozy environment again, it seems to lead nicely into Ariah's mention of a would-be invitation, although still, Zatanna mildly demures - or at least leaves her answer vague. "I'd love to hear you play, but I've still not quite made up my mind about you. Don't worry, though, I'll figure out what I need to know soon enough."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    It's a bit odd, to be sure, with how someone her age and in college can struggle with such a commonplace piece of technology. Her disdain for it might not just be entirely about the instant gratification generation after all. "A very good review," she replies. "Very fetching, mon cher," a nod comes along with it. Her head does tilt to the side though, face taking on a thoughtful expression. "I have not been to Vegas, and what I continue to hear about it, I would prefer if I refrained from doing so anyway."

    Another slow sip, still nursing her drink throughout the conversation with no discernable changes in her from intoxication. "Shadowcrest?" the word brings a quirk of a brow, as if asking for elaboration, but there's more with the final statement that has her wondering. And she simply, bluntly, speaks her mind even as her fingers delicately return the glass, now three-quarters empty, to the table.

    "If you are playing a game with me, do please at least tell me the rules and where on the board I lie. I full well have experience playing the pawn, but if there is something specific you wish to know, the curtain of probing social discourse leaves me feeling more suspect of your motives than feeling welcomed at your table in spite of initial overtures," Ariah states her mind, lacing her fingers together and narrowing those cold, almost dead eyes at Zatanna.

    "A stage magician you are, but I would prefer you cast aside your misdirections. What do you wish of me, mademoiselle?"

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Honestly, probably the wiser instinct, staying away," Zatanna admits, even if it means acknowledging the... well, many issues with the home of her most lucrative shows. "It's the sort of place... well, I understand the appeal, and I can't entirely fault it, considering I draw some of my biggest audiences there. But in the end, it focuses far more on the sensational than the substance, and like a good magic trick itself, uses so much in the way of bright lights and pretty sights to distract you from its real aim. Which is mostly emptying you out at the blackjack table."

A shrug. Zee can hardly condemn them, given they pay her fees, but she can be brutally honest about the whole thing.

As for the name of her ancestral home, she can't help but chuckle at Ariah's surprised reaction. "Oh, I know it sounds very mysterious and foreboding, and perhaps it somewhat is-" Not helping! "-but it's just the name of the estate. It's out in Bristol." Nothing mysterious about a wealthy Gotham suburb.

"A game? Oh, no. I'm sorry if I've given then impression, I suppose it can be hard to leave the show behind, and it leads me to being melodramatic at times, to keeping up the performance. If I've been less than clear and honest, it's only given the surroundings," she gestures about, where presently a young couple is standing fairly close by, not to intentionally eavesdrop, but merely by consequence of there being no space near the bar. Fridays. "But... well, I suppose it cannot be helped." And there, she draws a breath, and expels it-

"~tnelis reirrab~"

Suddenly, the accoustics of the room change, and where that couple stands only a short distance away, their voices are suddenly dampened to the point of near incomprehension, heard as if spoken through a thick wall. But it goes beyond them, to the entire bar, where the constant din that fills such a space becomes nothing but a muffled chorus. Zatanna gives it a moment to sink in, what has happened, before she speaks.

"Sorry, that's a little better. I really wish everyone would get their act together and find us a proper social club where we wouldn't have to worry, or resort to this sort of thing." A shake of her head. "Suffice it to say, I'm part of the community of practioners- people like yourself -that operates in the area. I had a bit of a feeling it would be worth coming out tonight, and I'm glad not to be disappointed." And her smile is still quite genuine. "I imagine you've met some of the others, but I've been away. At any rate, hopefully, that makes things a little clearer."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Any talk of Vegas goes beyond Ariah's interest, the idle conversation of places she would rather not visit on the far side of the country. Still, she is interested in Zatanna, and shares the same views regarding the lack of substance, and how shallow the resort town in the desert really is with its goals. Then a nod to the name of the estate, finding it fascinating, such a dramatic name for a home, but she's known some very peculiar wineries in her time and has no room to speak.

    Then the magic happens. This is what she was expecting. Or rather, perhaps, wanting? No more games, but a clear picture of who she's dealing with. Or what she's dealing with. And when the sound in the room dampens, even to her enhancd, heart-hearing senses, she... calms. Her eyes open a little more fully and she leans back, though her fingers are still laced together. This time, though, they fall to her lap and she studies Zatanna's face as she explains herself. "I do not come out here often, but yes, this is where the Ladies' Book Club meets on occasion..." she says, nodding, knowing what she speaks of. But she then tilts her head to the side, "...but you are not of the Watch, as far as I know... though our tasks, at present, lie somewhat.. dormant. You are no mere stage magician, oui? Traditional magic, of tongues and incantations and words of power." It's a look of understanding, but then she shakes her head. "I am not as... social as the other members. Peculiar it would be that we chanced to connect."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
First, Zatanna's eyebrow quirks upward a little. "The Watch? Well, if you've made some new club alongside your reading activities, no, I suppose not. And while boasting about seniority feels like a bit of a self-own, I've been one of the people watching the mystical side of things around here from the beginning, at least so far as all the modern organizations - the League and so on - go. And before that, it was my father, Giovanni Zatara, who did the same, for decades. Shadowcrest is one of the major Sanctums - a storehouse of magical artifacts and lore - much like Strange's, or John's." Add a little eyeroll there at the end, like she feels slightly annoyed at having to give John Constantine credit in /anything/.

So yes, now she does brag a little, or at the very least, asserts with cool confidence what the Zatara name truly means.

"I wouldn't precisely call this meeting coincidence. While I don't mean to be suspicious, well, it's sort of part of the job," she goes on. "The arts are dangerous, and draw dangerous people. So you can see why I'm cautious over who I invite over for wine and warm cuddles by the fireplace." Yet this later statement reveals the friendlier side of Zatanna, and her smile returns. "But I'm sure it will all be fine."

"As for my talents, yes, I am a master of the mystic arts, descended from a long line of such individuals. My family's specialty is logomancy, spoken or written spells, although I am quite versed in other traditions and forms of ritual casting. Frankly, I can do it all, or pretty close." And here? A saucy little wink. "I'd love to speak a bit more about your talents- I see a strong astral presence -though we might leave that for our next meeting. I really don't like doing things this way," she declares, waving a hand to indicate whatever invisible barrier has altered the sounds. "Depending on your interests, and what work you're interested in, maybe I can be of some help."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah nods, slowly, "The Infinity Watch. The good Doctor and a number of us came together to save the soul of the city while Bushwick was... gone..." she explains quietly, feeling she can at least trust this woman with that much. "I am not aware or privy to the knowledge of the other organizations, beyond the Justice League." Or SHIELD. She does listen, though, with genunine interest, to hear about Zatanna's past, family, and artifacts as well. As far as her own, well, anything, she doesn't really speak much of it, or brag. The tiny witch still keeps things on the downlow.

    At the least, though, once Zatanna finishes explaining her own abilities, she finally mentions her own. "My powers are best not shown off among a crowd, though I do not work overly hard to hide them when I must use them," she states. At least, her magic powers. "I am... a conduit. That is the best and simplest way that I can explain it. No words, no rituals."

    She takes up her glass again, finishing the pale green watered-down contents, and closes her eyes. "I would dearly enjoy a glass of wine and cuddling with you by the fire, mon cher. I would bring my violin, and you may ask and see all you wish of the truth of what I am. The company would be pleasant and there would be no crowd." What remains of the ice clinks softly when she puts the glass back, drink imbibed, and lifts her lids to fix her gaze on Zatanna. "For tasks, oui, I am always looking to help. I am well suited for wet work, as well," she admits, casual and cold.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Well, I trust Stephen knows what he is doing." The way Zatanna says it, that trust when she's just spoken about the inherent dangers and even necessary suspicion among their profession, does seem to hold some extra weight. "So if he needed to put a task force together for some problem or another, so be it. There's always /something/." Cue one sufficiently 'tired of that shit' sigh.

"Well, the next time, we'll have to do this somewhere you can really show off," she declares. "Because now I am curious." Which is definitely a point in Ariah's favor: it does take a fair bit to spark Zatanna's interest. "Although," and here again she seems to seek to temper the other woman's expectations of fireside snuggling with a certain sense of perspective, "I usually don't test totally unknown magical beings under the same roof I sleep under. If nothing else suggests itself, no exigent metaphysical catastrophes that might require a more overt demonstration... perhaps we can just do it in the back yard."

Having said this, she finally rises from her place at the table. "Being that I'm with the League, I'm supposed to frown on that sort of thing," Zatanna points out when the other woman's more pragmatic talents are highlighted. "Although obviously, in our more specific line of work, sometimes it does come to that. Blood was always good for that sort of thing... But I'll keep you in mind. At any rate, it's been very nice meeting you Ariah, I just knew this evening out would be worth it." With that, as she starts to move around the table, she speaks again: "Reirrab llaf." And just as suddenly, the sound all comes back, as if it had never been missing. "I'll get you my number, as well," she adds, indicating the phone, albeit without actually asking for the number.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "There's always something, oui," Ariah echoes softly. The same sigh comes with her affirmation as well. She's been at this for a long time, too. "I am not one to show off, but a lot of my talents are perfectly safe indoors, actually," she explains. The words don't even come with a playful wink or anything. There's no innuendo, just a simple statement of fact. "I will, regardless, submit to your expertise regarding the matter of what you find acceptible in your proximity."

    The mention of blood and killing just makes her blink owlishly. There's likely something much darker inside of that small frame, but she covers it up with a weird veneer of innocence. Or she just -really- hates HYDRA. It could be anything. What may end up telling, though, is the way she... cringes when the din of the bar resumes. The expression on her face tenses and she leans a little away from the crowded floor until she can re-center herself and her senses. Like the loudness is just that: Too loud for her after so much had been shut out.

    "It has been pleasant, mon cher," she says, a touch strained, reaching for her phone. Then she simply hands it up to Zatanna after unlocking it. "Please put it in, if you wish. I am not occupied many nights out of the week."