8788/Evening at the Iceberg Lounge

Evening at the Iceberg Lounge
Date of Scene:	23 November 2021
Location:	Iceberg Lounge
Synopsis:	Oswald Cobblepot corrupts the youth, or at least makes a good first impression.
Cast of Characters:	Oswald Cobblepot, Roland Livingston

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Oswald Cobblepot has posed:
It's Monday night at the Iceberg Lounge, the music is playing, people are dancing - a younger crowd than usual, the staff catering to Gotham University students getting a few last party nights in before the Thanksgiving holiday and the impending crunch of term papers and finals. The usual higher class crowd are steering clear of the dance floor, and the liquor is flowing like water all around.

Oswald Cobblepot is watching it all from the upper level, wearing an only-slightly muted scowl of disdain at the garbage the younger generation call music these days. Every so often he tosses a fish to the penguins living on the ice sculpture in the middle of the club, doing his very best to make the show of being a decent host and not up to no good.

He is, of course, always up to no good.

Roland Livingston has posed:
It just so happens that Roland finds himself in Gotham for the night with no particular plans. So he might as well check out one of the more upscale joints the city has to offer: The Iceberg Lounge. The Englishman meanders into the club, looking around carefully for a moment before heading to get himself a drink. "Vodka martini, please. Dry and dirty," he says in his upper crust English accent to whichever bartender he can get the attention of first.

After starting a tab for himself he moves on, walking around the outside of the dance floor. Sipping his drink, he looks over the people dancing, pressing his lips firmly together in thought as he considers the crowd. But the drinking shall come first.

Oswald Cobblepot has posed:
A martini is served up, generously portioned and exactly to order, and probably one of the more mundane mixed drinks to be served here tonight. There's no fuss at setting up a tab, though the English accent is noticed and passed along. Up on the balcony, Oswald is given the briefest note of the stranger, adjusting his monocle to get a better look at him. An outside in his club, curious. "I think shall wander downstairs a spell," he says to one of his bodyguards, who fall in, leaving someone else to watch from the balcony, quietly taking in more notable figures in the club - sons and daughters of rich Gothamites who might generate useful blackmail material for later schemes once they've had enough to drink.

He wanders downstairs, taking his time on the steps with his limp, umbrella aiding him all the while. His bodyguards keep a respectable distance as he wanders on towards Roland, curious - but not so much so as to draw a lot of attention. "What do you think of the club?" he asks, smiling genially as he leans on his umbrella, looking up to get a good look at Roland.

Roland Livingston has posed:
After taking another drink from the ice cold martini his attention is taken by the club's owner. Turning to face him, Roland smiles and lifts his glass in a salute, "It's quite unique. Can't say I've ever been anywhere like it." His smile grows larger, "I'm quite taken with the establishment. I'll be spending time here whenever I'm in town."

One more drink to keep the whistle wet.

Oswald Cobblepot has posed:
"Always glad to have repeat business," the Penguin says with broad smile on his face. It doesn't quite make it to his eyes, but it's about as genuine a friendly expression as he ever makes. "Oswald Cobblepot, owner and manager... we're quite proud of the place." He chuckles with a soft 'weh' sound.

Roland Livingston has posed:
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Cobblepot," Roland says, still smiling. "You have much to be proud of." Then he nods, "Roland Livingston, at your service."

The young man glances at the dance floor, then at the penguins where they're hanging out. "Interesting crowd. It's quite unlikely to be boring here."

Oswald Cobblepot has posed:
"And mine at yours" Os says agreably. "Quite the cream of the crop of Gotham's night life, yes. Any given night you'll have students from Gotham University, business elites, the who's who of Gotham socialites. And during the day, a fine luncheon service." He pats his belly agreeably, no stranger to his own board. "Well, /most/ of the night life - we have a strict no-clowns policy, I'm certain you can reason why."

Roland Livingston has posed:
"Really? This sounds like the place to make important contacts, Mr. Cobblepot," Roland says, sounding quite agreeable. "I'll certainly need to come by for the food as well. If it's as good as the drinks..." He lifts his glass. "Then it will surely be impressive." When told about the special policy the rich kid nods, "Makes sense, especially in this city. It's a bit dangerous here, isn't it? I notice you've got attentive and professional security. That's something a man like myself can appreciate."

Oswald Cobblepot has posed:
"Gotham is a hard place," Oswald says. "It has been so for a long, long time, and not even the Caped Crusader has been able to truly turn the tide of our fair city. My family, the Cobblepots, have seen the fortunes of the city rise and fall over the generations. But there is always hope... and opportunity, if you know where to look." Oswald's definition of opportunity might differ from Rolands, of course.

Roland Livingston has posed:
"My family has a lineage, as well," Roland tells the Oswald, sounding thoughtful for a moment. "I imagine the costumed vigilantes around here aren't numerous or murderous enough to really instill fear in the criminal element. I'm told the Bat people don't kill. I mean, a few months ago I helped stop a bank robbery. After shooting a couple of the bandits the rest surrendered quickly. They were quite surprised that someone more or less on the side of the law would engage them with lethal force."

He takes a drink and shrugs his shoulders, "I might be interested in the right opportunities in Gotham, myself. I'm one of the world's leading experts on the mystical and I collect items of a magical nature. It's quite an expensive calling and I may need to make some investments so that I can keep doing what I do."

Oswald Cobblepot has posed:
"You're quite correct, our chiropteran cavalier has a strict code." Oswald mulls his next point over for a moment or two, then presses on. "Of course, this means that murderous ne'er-do-wells are like as not to end up in the curative confines of Arkham Asylum... almost moreso than nearby Blackgate Prison. Of course there are those who take a harder line, but they're just as likely to draw the Batman's attention as the criminals they wage war against." He shrugs softly. "Who am I to judge, I simply run my little club these days."

"Now, as to things thaumaturgical, I think you may find some things of interest in Gotham should you look hard enough. The city draws the strange and unusual almost as readily as New York or Metropolis. It might be very worth your while..."

Roland Livingston has posed:
"I still appreciate the efforts of the costumed vigilantes. I quite like the Black Canary, for instance, but it's hard to know how much good they actually do," Roland finishes off his drink and sets the glass down. "And a fine job you do, running your establishment."

When he's told about the possibilities Gotham offers the Englishman cracks another smile, "I'll have to spend some more time here, in that case. The architecture of Gotham surely shows that its people at one point had a fondness for the occult. There's a surprising amount of symbolism if one knows what to look for."

Oswald Cobblepot has posed:
"The Black Canary has a certain charm, yes, quite," Oswald agrees, thinking of a scheme he's only now beginning involving her. "And I'm sure you'll find much to your interest... Gotham is an old city and full of many interesting secrets. But do watch your back, my good man. It is still a dangerous place, no matter how many costumed crime fighters we have."

Roland Livingston has posed:
"Thank you for your concern, Mr. Cobblepot," Roland says with a nod. "I'll do my best to avoid trouble. Or at least position myself so that I can see it coming." There's a smirk at that statement.

"I've got a few enemies of my own so I have had to learn to be careful, especially when I'm by myself. I can't be as carefree as other people my age," He nods towards those folks on the dance floor. "Still, I do manage to enjoy myself. Next time I throw a party on my yacht I'll extend you an invitation, if you'd like. There's no telling who might show up."

Oswald Cobblepot has posed:
Os is taken aback for a moment, and... genuinely touched. Surprising what a little bit of friendliness can accomplish, a lesson he keeps failing to take to heart. "Why thank you. I would very much appreciate it, my good fellow, yes yes." He nods his head, giving a slight tip of his hat. "It has been a pleasure, sir, a genuine delight."

Roland Livingston has posed:
Roland is quite pleased by the reaction his offer got and nods, nearly bowing, at the club owner, "You're most welcome. You're a charming fellow, an excellent conversationalist and I have very much enjoyed your company this evening." Then he chuckles softly, "The pleasure, sir, is mine. We'll need to stay in touch, especially as I try to learn more about your city."

Oswald Cobblepot has posed:
"Quite quite, I look forward to it, my lad." Cobblepot is just as pleased as punch, though that won't stop him from having his men look into Roland later on. As he warned him, it is Gotham. Can't be too careful. "Until then, enjoy your time at my little (little?) club."

Roland Livingston has posed:
"I'll have correspondence delivered here, or show up myself when the club is open," Roland say to Oswald. "I shall certainly have a good time. My driver's nearby so I may have a few more drinks this evening, see if I can't meet an interesting woman." Then he reaches into his jacket to pull out a metallic business card and offer it over, "Reach out to me any time."

Oswald Cobblepot has posed:
Oswald produces one of his own, elegant and in gold leaf, trading amiably. "The same the same," he says, leaning in with a faux-conspiratorial voice. "I won't get in your way on your noble endeavor," he says, tapping his nose and shuffling back towards his balcony stairs. "Best of luck, my boy."

Roland Livingston has posed:
"Thank you, Mr. Cobblepot," this time Roland does bow, looking quite formal about it. Then he turns and proceeds towards the dance floor, scanning the crowd as he approaches. There's a smile on his face as he glances back at his new acquaintance before joining the fray.