5202/A Little Bit of Moonlight is Magic

A Little Bit of Moonlight is Magic
Date of Scene:	15 February 2021
Location:	Hat and Hare
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Zatanna Zatara, Marc Spector

---

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
This hour of the day, broaching the long decline into afternoon, the Hat and Hare doesn't bubble with business. The regular drinkers usually prefer more out of the way places. Stage hands and entertainers are a more common sight before their day really begins in a few hours. A bit of conversation, a tipple of cider or a pale ale: usual things. Nothing too hard. Always one or two who want whiskey or something in a mason jar, but the atmosphere is convivial and hardly too thrilling.

Zatanna comes in wearing half her usual ensemble, the fishnet stockings and boots placed by a pair of slacks and boots instead. Considering the weather, is it any surprise? Freezing cold out there. Though the coat and the corset go together well, a neat button-down collar worked into it. She waves to a few people in passing and leans forward, asking the bartender for a peculiarly named drink - a little Dorian Greyish, popped with a spike of citrus to go with the whimsical fizz and pomegranate. "Go light on the champers. It's been a Monday three Mondays long." Already?

The bartender delivers and she leans against the counter, watching the world. Deciding, maybe.

Marc Spector has posed:
Marc Spector, a man with as many personalities as the phases of the moon, had just finished a shift as a cabbie in Gotham in his persona as Jake Lockley, to which his irritable rants and objections to the criminal habitat in this city managed to get him a myriad of agreements from his clients, who tipped him well for the drive and passionate conversation. But alas, The Jake Lockley personality fades away, succeeding its dominance to the core personality: Marc Spector.

He enters into the Hat and Hare, the switch or personality noticeable even in the way he walks. He walked tall and confident as Jake Lockley, but now he seems to be more timid and shy, even as he approaches the bar. "Can I have a whiskey, please?" He requests of the bartender.

Though of course, he notices Zatanna, who may or may not have noticed him also, and he gulps audibly. "H-Hi." He greets her with an attempt at a winning smile. Can the ultra-confident Steven Grant please make his appearance known so Marc doesn't scare a potentially nice lady away? Or can the beer arrivequicker, so he can drown himself in alcohol to down his nerves?

Unlike Zatanna, Marc is dressed for the cold and like he just got off the street. He wears a heavy coat with dark jeans and boots, with a gray shirt underneath and a black beanie on his head, with his shoulder-length hair peaking out. from under it.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
A wave of blue-black hair resting on her shoulder, Zee lacks her typical top hat. Neither has she the other bits of garb best associated with her stage act, caught in the halfway point between dressing up and dressing down. Maybe that makes her less frightening somehow. The glamour and celebrity can hold the world at arm's reach, and often do.

A stool unoccupied in a line of them invites her to sink down, waiting for the bartender to concoct her drink. It involves a shaker and champagne, so that's not bound to be too complex or too heavy. A pour of a decent whiskey comes much faster, setting aside the distilled concoction bubbling away in its metal carafe for a neat pour. "Over ice or not?" will be a question directed to Marc, not unpleasant. Either way, he gets his ma--drink.

I that case, the blue-eyed woman glances his way and offers a warm smile. Point in his favour, meeting friendly introduction with friendly introduction. Given how many here play on the stage or behind it, tending to cinema roles or singing performances, they all have an easier time with strangers. Or so that's the magic of Hollywood, even in Gotham.

"Is it still that bad out there?" A pause and Zee tilts her head, glancing upward through the stained glass that takes the place of any window. "You give me the impression winter's still fighting and the rest of us had best stay where it's warm and cozy rather than braving the wind."

Marc Spector has posed:
"N-Not, please." Marc tells the Barkeep before he really sits down on the stool. Though, suddenly, what he does not quite expect, is that the blue-raven-haired beauty is -TALKING- to him?! Ugh, Steven Grant, why do you only show up when you're -not- needed?!

Its not that Zatanna is intimidating, its just that Marc, in his core personality, is an introvert and tends to be a little shy when talking to others unless he's been around them for a long time. Of course, he's not gonna blurt out his later ego or something, but he may indeed just act odd for a second while he tries to get his bearings.

"Y-Yeah, just a little bit. F-freezing, actually." he smiles back at her, though it doesn't seem forced, but it does seem painfully nervous. "I'm, uh, personally over winter. Never handled the cold well." He can, Marc's just trying to make conversation.

Somewhere, Khonshu is incredibly amused.

"I-I'm Marc." he introduces himself.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
The barkeep can get around to delivering that drink, dropping it off at Marc's elbow on a neat little coaster shaped like a top hat. Surprise, but it goes with the theme. The other options are rabbits or one of those cabinets of mysteries. The liquid glints sharp copper-gold through a clean glass.

Marc can shy away and not worry about Zatanna bothering him. The magician of many a show and the occasional Justice League appearance doesn't aim to be overbearing. If he looks away, buried into his phone or staring at his feet, she leaves him be. Her own drink is produced in a shallow glass that looks exactly like an upturned umbrella, or one blown inside-out, minus the ribs. She gently takes it up by the stem, inhaling the citrus kick and berry bite before taking a sip. But her smile never gades. Silence is a friend, hardly something that bothers her.

"You're not the only one. A friend and I were wishing it would be 70', sunny, and maybe a bit of a breeze." A lift of her glass brings it closer to her lips. "Here's to the green in future days. Snow can pack itself up and mail itself to Siberia where it belongs." With the soft cadence of laughter on her lips, she's probably making it worse for Khonshu's amusement. Feeding the fire? Hopefully not.

"Pleasure. Zatanna," she offers her hand. Which makes exactly clear who she is. There is only one Zatanna -- or Annataz -- and in context of Gotham, that's no drag queen or admiring cosplayer being her.

Marc Spector has posed:
Marc gets his drink and he nods only once to the bartender. "T-Thank you." He replies in gratitude before he sips his drink. Perhaps he's not much of a drinker, at least not of strong drinks, considering the way he seems to make an ugly face and reels away from the beverage in his hand. "Good morning." He mumbles to the drink as he takes another sip, handling it a little bit better.

Thank god for the military making him tough.

But then his attention shifts toZatanna even as she laughs a little bit. "A-A-Agreed." Marc chokes out when he hears her laugh, perhaps a subtle blush coming to his cheeks that makes his face turn red when Zatanna finally introduces herself.

Wait-a-who-da-whatsit.

THE Zatanna?!

The magic performer, the chick who's with celebrities on TV, best stage magician in the world, Zatanna?!

A little shocked and surprised, Marc shakily extends his hand to shake hers. "N-Nice to meet you, Z-Zatanna." He seems to audibly gulp. Clearly he hasn't met many celebrities before. KNOCK KNOCK, STEVEN GRANT, MARC NEEDS HELP. he mentally shouts to his other personalities, who often butt heads with each other anyway.

Marc might be up a creek without a paddle.

"I really enjoy your work." he offers to her with a light smile, completely ignoring the internal screaming.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
The champagne gives the bubbly hiss to the drink at Zee's lips. She doesn't start right in, just allowing herself a few moments to truly enjoy the creation. Its acidic bite sweeps over her palate after a small sip, something that pools on the tongue like the reminders of a summer sunset. Maybe why she chose it, anyway.

Pity the whiskey isn't so good, burning too bright. She can almost hide the sympathetic wince, but at least she doesn't say more than that. Leave someone their dignity, it's already a hard enough world out there.

Blotting her lips discreetly behind the rounded rim, she nods back to the bartender. By extension, Marc too. "This is excellent. It's practically transforming on my tongue from sour to sweet, a little bitter in there. It's excellent. Though giving my finest regards this early in the evening might not be speaking very well for my judgment."

The wry smile dents a dimple in her cheek for a moment. "Thank you." Knock knock, no need to bang that door down. The personalities could come spilling out but she lounges with the ease of a panther beside a pool. "Do you really? Oh, that's wonderful to hear. Sometimes connecting with an audience is tough, especially through YouTube or social media. I never know if they're watching snippets from ages ago--" she's young, ages has a limited meaning here, "or when I wasn't quite as practiced. Have you been to a show in town?"

Marc Spector has posed:
Marc was never really too much of a connoisurre when it comes to alcoholic beverages, whiskey, champagne, or otherwise. He doesn't seem to have any issue for a moment when he finally just downs the rest of his drink and asks for another.

Natural stress reliever.

Marc doesn't seem to mind it though when Zatanna speaks about her tastebuds to the bartender, in fact, he's actually smiling at how happy she seems to be with so simple a thing. When she speaks to her then, he nods softly. "I do, you're very talented, I'd say." He informs her ever so slightly.

"I've never been to one of your shows, but I've seen snippets of the things you can do and its a talent that I don't think really anyone possesses at that level." he informs her with a nervous look about him.