Owner	Pose
Chas Chandler	Chas would usually be rather happy for the number of people in his bar this evening... however, he would rather those people be paying customers. Given the state of the world outside his doors, that was unlikely. Still, he's putting on a good face given the occasion.     Standing at his post behind the bar he's busily arranging the bottles to look at least presentable (which often just means facing them correctly--Chas runs a tight ship when it comes to his post.) He's wearing a dark blue turtleneck and black jeans with his solid boots as well as a pristine white apron.     Chas had threatened to hang a banner, and it appears he wasn't joking. Above the bar is a long banner of simple cloth. "Welcome Members of the Justice League: Dark" is emlazoned in silver on a background that shimmers with a metallic rainbow finish depending on the angle it is viewed from.
Sara Pezzini	Although heavily involved in solving a case that really, really needed solving, Sara decided to make an appearance to introduce herself around and meet a few of the other members of the Justice League Dark. She still believed it to be a stupid name, as she had mentioned to Jon, but she would work with it all the same. Coming into the bar from work, she wears a green turtle neck under a loose fitting suit coat, a pair of denim jeans, her usual work boots, and over it all a black pea coast. New York winters got cold. Heading right up to the bar she offers Chas a smile with a nod, as she asks, "Got some coffee made? No alcohol for me, going to be at it all night."
Zatanna Zatara	It's all in the spells and wards. Certainly not in the appearance of the place. Not for the first time, Zatanna shakes her head despairingly at the bar, wondering if their guests will be laughing in their sleeves. No screens, not a computer in sight, nothing remotely appearing to be the nexus of some of the most powerful magicians in the world. Behind her, the banner gleams rainbows. The homo magi stands in front of the bar next to a stool, dressed in what she jokingly calls "business magician." In reality, indistinguishable from any well-dressed New Yorker or Gothamite who likes Japanese designers and ubiquitous black. "Everybody find a stool," she gestures to the stools and chairs arranged wily-nily to face the bar. "It's great to have you all here. Thank you for coming, Diana Prince and Donna Troy. Our host Chas will provide you with drinks. Just ask him. If you wouldn't mind, please join me at the bar, Diana and Donna."
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia still isn't sure about having their rag tag bunch of mystical misfits being folded in with the Justice League. She understands why it's happening, but she can't help but feel that there's some kind of clash of loyalties between being an auxiliary member of the Justice League and a full member of the Brotherhood, even though the Brotherhood has gone 'legit.' She's currently wearing a red woolen tartan skirt that goes to her ankles, and a black turtleneck sweater. Over which is a lambskin jacket that looks nice and warm. She didn't bother to warm herself up for the occasion, so her red lips are in stark contrast of her deathly pale skin. As always black motes of ectoplasm fall about her like ash. The last thing she expected when she walks into the bar is a banner proudly proclaiming the new name of their group. "Good evening, Chas," she says walking up to the bar and sliding onto a stool. "Like the banner. Can you make me a Manhattan?" She reaches into her purse and pulls out a twenty to slide to him. She always insists on paying for her drinks here, even though they're offered freely.
Jonathan Sims	"We're going to have to workshop the banner." Jon Sims is looking at it with a critical eye from his perch at the bar. He's sleeping on Chas' couch just now, and has a couple of notebooks in front of him filled with the information Chas had asked him to present to people. He's secretly sort of hoping he can just get emails or something. Presentations to a room full of half-drunk strangers feel like a part of his old life, and one he'd be just as soon leave behind.     He's dressed nicely enough, though, wearing an emerald green cardigan over a crisp white button-down, black slacks, shined black loafers. No tie, and there's a bulge beneath his cardigan that anyone who knows what to look for can identify as a pistol in a shoulder holster. Not that he thinks that there's going to be trouble /inside/ the bar, and not that it would do much good against the kind of trouble that exists /outside/ the bar, but he's not just going to leave the ICER sitting around where anyone could pick it up.     As Pezzini and Lydia enter he gestures to the banner. "Forget about the name... I like the colors, but I'm thinking something vertical, maybe with just the initials? 'JLD,' in that font, in the silver." A pause. "Maybe deep blue background instead of the rainbow? It glares a little."
Phoebe Beacon	Phoebe was back in action backing the bar, and had done some overnight cleaning, and as she comes in quickly tapping. Her hair was artfully braided in waves on her head, she was wearing a brown cloth jacket over a plain green T and a brown-skirt-with-yellow-flowers that reached down to her knees. What's the occasion?     Well. It's official. Their group is being added to the Justice League, and she felt like it deserved a skirt.     She regrets entirely the matte tan heels she's wearing though. She comes in and sets a pair of silver vases on either end of the bar full of red, violet, and white roses -- red white and blue just didn't seem like they fit with the 'Dark' part of the Justice League.     And the flowers should also help with the ever-present smell of cigs. Some things you have to admit defeat on.     "I think the banner's only up for today. I thought the 'Dark' part meant we weren't going to advertise?" she offers with a slight grin.
Diana Prince	Diana and Donna had arrived a little bit ago. They setup near the far side at a open table. The Princess was wearing a black leather motorcycle jacket over a black turtle neck that is slim fit to her form. She draped the jacket over the back of the chair and smoothed out her dark grey slacks before settling in to the chair for a few moments while the place began to fill up. With her hair tied back in a loose ponytail, the tall Amazon woman in black looks over to her sister and shares some quiet words with her up to the point where they are introduced by Zatanna. A quick look is exchanged with Donna before Diana raises up and moves to go stand where indicated. She runs her eyes around everyone gathering up, her gaze flicking back to Zatanna to give her a big smile and a soft 'Thank you.' spoken over. Then, Diana looks back to those at the bar tonight. "Hello." She says with a growing smile on her sculpted features. "This will not be a long winded speech. I just wanted to say that I am very... excited... for this endeavor. To expand the League is to expand the protection to those in need. To work together, is to further ... unite the world in a goal for a safer tomorrow, a happier horizon." She smiles quickly again. "But tonight is about enjoying each other's company, and ... perhaps some drinks too." She laughs softly, before glancing to her sister. "My sister, Troia, is here to help showcase that Themyscira is pushing toward a more open border as well. We are united in /this/ goal to help bring our ways to the world of man." Diana presses her hands together then before she nods softly once. "I hope that if you have any questions or concerns, you will reach out to us. Together, we are stronger..." A quick grin is shown then before Diana motions with her hands. "Justice Leaguers ... drink up."
Donna Troy	The Amazonian sister-act isn't just a matter of Donna accompanying Diana sister for the occasion; Donna is very much a public face of the Titans, and the Titans has a close association with the Justice league. Not just frequent allies, Donna and Diana are far from the only examples of family (or proximate) ties across the two teams. In the past the press had tended to treat the Titans as the Junior Justice League and while the Titans have very much forged their own path now, the links between the two teams are strong, and here on the occasion of the offical formation of the Justice League Dark, it's only proper that the Titans should send a representative too.     Donna accompanies Diana to the bar at Zatanna's invitation, but isn't there to make any speeches, just put in an appearance as a general show of support for the new team of mystically-inclined, a point she makes with a brief addendum to Diana's words. "Also to wish you all luck, and remind you the Titans is there for you to call on too, if you ever need us. As Diana says, stronger together."     This simple duty performed, she follows Zatanna's other suggestion, and quietly asks Chas for a drink -- nothing fancy, she's drinking beer tonight.
Bart Allen	Bart Allen has found a seat on one of the stools. He has helped the JLD a time or two, and the JL well they have a seat with the symbol he wears on it, he is even an oficial Titan. So Bart thought it might be a good thing for him to be here for this, that or he is just curious. So here he is in a nice shirt, and dress pants, but wearing his cowl. He knows a few here knows who he is but he does not know who all will be here tonight. He watches quietly munching on some of the bar snacks he has snagged.
Rien D'Arqueness	Outside the Laughing Magician, a silent flash of light resolves itself into a fairly short blonde woman wearing white leather. She takes a look around before stepping forward to enter the bar. A slight chuckle escapes when she sees the banner, but she continues over to the bar and grabs a seat on one of the barstools.     "I think white wine goes with officially joining the big leagues, wouldn't you say?" she asks Chas. When the glass is put in front of her she smiles at Chas and takes a sip, then nods to him and turns as Diana starts speaking.     After the Amazon's short speech, she raises her glass in a salute to the woman and takes another sip of her wine. Looking over the crowd, she takes a moment to note how large the group has become. She knows most of them, but there's one or two new faces.
Zatanna Zatara	Zatanna watches Diana, admiration clear in the small nods she makes during her presentation. She smiles at both women and turns, hands wide to encompass the people in the room. "Thank you for that welcome. Diana has stated the goals behind our expansion. There are genuine opportunities for us to help one another as we work to make the world safer for us all. Zee glances around the room, her gaze lingering on Phoebe, Jon, and others of the old Night Brigade. "Unveiling ourselves as magic users is unorthodox, none of wishing to call up the old superstitions around magic, but it is my belief, and I hope yours that it will benefit us all. Would you please introduce yourselves briefly? I also plan to have short descriptions of our various talents available to members of the Justice League."
Meggan Constantine	Worse things could happen than a descending crowd of guests on sprawling tabs leading to a shrinking cellar. One guest, at least, will demand nothing beyond tap water, freely offered thanks to the great city of New York and its attendant infrastructure. Thanks to someone opening the door, a well-groomed cat trots right in at some point before the speech, jaunty as you please. Said feline in question has an undoubtedly brindled colour, tawny fur fading into paler caramel striations that bear a distinct resemblance to the weight and pattern of a London Fog coat. Or the bog standard uniform of a certain non-present proprietor who could well be expected to be in residence. John's traditional red tie has been modified, tied off in a charming bowtie left somewhat slack. The cat's progress halts for a moment to look up, way up, to the iridescent banner hung in place of pride. Her tail curls in a distinct curlicue, an ear flicked to the conversation taking place around her. It's doubtful a cat can read or even appreciate the colour distinctions being contemplated by Jonathan. Meggan's psychic transparency is almost a calling card. Phosphorescent green eyes blink mildly at Chas in terribly slow motion, a languid countdown known only to a wild mind. A few seconds later, she sinks down with the obvious intention of effortlessly hopping up onto a stool. The pounce serves only for show given how silently she lands. Playing a good observer, the faerie cat curls her ridiculously fluffy tail around her paws.
Jonathan Sims	Jon clears his throat, stands, tugs on his cardigan. He hesitates, watching the cat go by, raises a brow. Says nothing, so far as that goes. If the faerie wants to wander about as a cat, that's her business.     "Well. I am Dr. Jonathan Sims, the Archivist. Some here might recognize the title--it's been held by my ancestors going five millenia, going back before Alexandria, to the time of the Pharoahs. In my everyday, I'm a psychiatrist, specifically specializing in treating superheroes. I'm working on an on-call basis these days, but if anyone needs help, you have but to ask." He smiles. "As Archivist, I catalogue and record events in service of the gods of Egypt, and use that information to help the gods judge those who do not die in the normal course of life. Which is a fancy way of saying I know a lot of things, I'm a telepath, and I do magic. Still learning the specifics."     He looks over toward Diana directly. "If the Justice League needs a /full/ profile of my connections, I will give it, but some of that is, I am afraid, not the purview even of this team." It's entirely possible the Justice League already knows he works for SHIELD--the Outsiders do, through Red Robin--but he's not going to say it here in the bar.     He looks to Zatanna and lowers his voice a bit. "Are you going to want me to, ahh... share what we know about recent events, once everyone's introduced?" He taps at the notebooks next to him on the bar.
Lydia Dietrich	Oh, and there's Diana. The last time Lydia had seen the Amazon she had tied her girlfriend to the Lasso of Truth so she could prove to the world that she was sincere in her commitment to reform. It's quite different seeing her in civilian wear than it is in her full armor. No less intimidating, though. She stands up from her stool and raises her glass in a silent cheer to those assembled. "I'm Lydia," she says introducing herself to those she doesn't know. She hesitates feeling like she should add something to that. "I'm, uh, a vampire now." She directs that awkwardly at Diana who probably doesn't even remember her since they never actually met. She quickly sits and hides her head in her hands in embarrassment. Oh God, why did she say that?
Chas Chandler	Chas serves drinks as asked. Coffee. Manhattan (he gets it right this time). Wine. And others... with effortless practiced agility. He's making sure his daughter is keeping a close watch on his movements. She's not old enough to touch it yet, but soon enough she will be and it's never too early to watch and learn.     He nods to Diana and Donna's offers of unified peace and propsperity and seems to relax some. Maybe having the Justice League and the Titans at there backs can help if things sprial out of control with the current looming threat.     As the cat pounces up on a stool he blinks at it in surprise. He has his hunches, after all he's good friends with a rather powerful shapeshifter and narrows his eyes with the slow languid blink that cats usually reserve for those they appreciate/tolerate/trust. He smiles and moves to it before leaning down. "Should I get you a bowl of lactose free cream in a gold gilded porcelain bowl, my Lady?" he asks, sotto-voce of the feline guest. He really hopes that it's who he thinks it to be, otherwise he's going to be getting strange looks all night.     Seeing that introductions are being made he looks up and raises a hand. "I'm Chas Chandler. Bartender, driver, and general morale. No powers to really speak of on my end."
Phoebe Beacon	Phoebe slips a basket of fries to Bart. "Going to admit, I always thought I'd get in as a different group." she states quietly to the other Outsider, with a small smile as she looks to Donna and Diana. She leans against the bar for a moment, watching... as a cat... meanders in and hops on a stool. Phoebe's nose gives a wrinkle, and idly she rubs her thumbnail against her sternum, beneath the hem of her collar -- but she's got a supposition. She's not going to mess with the cat.     And then it's time to take turns and introduce themselves, and Phoebe gives an embarrassed 'they know who I am already'. She tilts her head back a moment.     She rubs the back of her head embarrassedly, and then scratches at her scarred left shoulder.     "Phoebe." she just uses her first name. Not the long one that was used last time she and Diana met. "Healing magic, exorcism, binding and amplification circles, some evocation." she lowers her gaze, her shoulders coming up.
Sara Pezzini	Although only drinking coffee, Sara lifts her cup all the same in a sort of salute to the speech given and offers a smile to the Themyscirian princess, then settles herself onto one of the stools at the bar. "I know a few of the faces present," she offers in general. "And I know /of/ a few others, but I agree completely that we are stronger together. For those who don't know, I'm Sara Pezzini, detective with the NYPD and uh..." there is a pause here as her brain skids to a stop. Does she share or does she keep to herself. "Christ," she mutters to herself, eyes glancing around the room for a moment. Collecting herself, she finally continues with, "I'm the present wielder of the Witchblade." If anyone had questions, they could ask, other wise that was the extent of what she could offer. Until recently her identity had been secret, and sometimes it still was, she was still adjusting to the idea of other people actually being okay to know.
Bart Allen	Bart Allen considered trying to pet the cat, cause well it is a cat. But at first Chas's reaction and the look from Phoebe, he resists the urge, at least for now. He smiles and tells Phoebe "Thanks." for the fries. He does look from one to another as they introduce himself. He will keep quiet, if the non magic types introduce themselves more, he might.
Rien D'Arqueness	As the introductions begin, Rien doesn't bother to stand, because she's actually a bit taller sitting on the barstool. Once a few of the others have given their info, she adds herself in as well.     Putting her wine down on the bar, she speaks with a slight French accent. "Rien D'Arqueness. Trained sorceress and demon hunter, ridiculously fast healing, enchanted claws and superhuman physical abilities and senses."     After saying her bit, she reaches over to reclaim her glass, keeping her attention on the room to make she she doesn't miss anyone's intro.
Diana Prince	Diana regards her sister as she speaks, then grins a little when she orders her drink. "I will have the same." Diana says of a beer. Nice and simple tonight. When it arrives, she picks up the glass and holds it before her as the introductions come out. The Princess sweeps her gaze from those who speak, a sip of her new drink taken during them. She lowers the glass and smiles to Lydia, then offers a wave to Phoebe, a gentle little sway of her hand. To the Archivist, Diana lowers her slim pointed chin in a nod to him. "An intriguing backstory, to say the least." She says to him before another little smile is shown. The confident kitten is observed as well before Diana looks around once more. "This is quite a team." She says in her Themysciran accented English. "I am eager to hear the stories of the missions, and outings that you will go on together..."
Zatanna Zatara	Zatanna trains her sapphire eyes intently on each person as they introduce themselves, smiling affectionately at Phoebe's abbreviated description of herself. She blinks feeling Lydia's moment of embarrassment as her own. The magician has counted on both of them to protect her with their lives and knows their worth and power. Over her shoulder, she asks Chas, "A scotch, when you have a chance, please. You know what I like." It takes an effort of will not to stroke the magic cat that has fluffed itself onto the stool next to her. Sotto voce she asks, "Will you have anything to contribute to us, Lady?" At Jon's question, she nods. "By all means, please." Raising her voice, pitched melodiously to the back of the room, "If you would, please give us your attention. Jon, the Archivist, has something important to relate to us all."
Meggan Constantine	Chas' posh inquiry earns a head tilt from the cat, and a flick of the grandiose starburst of whiskers. One tail swish and another slow blink follows, followed by a distinctive, high chirp used by felines everywhere to convey their opinions about mealtime. Is there another mode with a cat? Zatanna is giving Meggan a fair degree of credit, kindly. If Bart wants to pet her head, nothing is stopping him. He might even get perked ears, further insight not all is as it seems with the shapeshifted fae. But there are reasons. A round of introductions has the tawny fuzzball raptly paying attention to them speaking, princesses and magicians, vampires and sword-wielders alike.
Donna Troy	Brief job done, Donna relaxes with beer in hand, studying the faces present as introductions are made. The Archivist is new to her, and his connection to the gods of Egypt piques her interest, but that's filed away for later. Lydia and Rien, who she had met on Asteroid M, get polite nods. Phoebe gets an encouraging grin and Bart a wink and a wave.     Apart from Zatanna, the rest are new to her, at least as far as she knows. Chas' introduction prompts a raised eyebrow -- someone with 'no powers to speak of' seems a curious addition to the group. It's Meggan who gets the most attention though. The feline form is certainly distinctive in this crowd, and she makes such an /elegant/ cat. After a few moments thought she raises her bottle slightly in salute to the cat - a small gesture, but it seems in order. Never underestimate someone just because they happen to look small and furry. She has a few members of her team like that after all.     Leaning close to Diana, Donna speaks a few words in a soft whisper - perhaps not unheard by all, but intended for only her sister's ears. "An eclectic group. It will be interesting to see how they work together."
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia sips at her Manhattan, not really drinking it. She just likes the flavors and takes enough to coat the tongue so she can savor the taste. The cat gets a curious glance because... well... they're the Night Bri- that is, the Justice Leage: Dark and stranger things have happened. Sara's presence is a bit of a surprise, though. "Sara!" she calls out brightly. "I haven't seen you in forever! I'm sorry I haven't reached out to you recently. My life has been kind of a whirlwind lately. How've you been?"
Jonathan Sims	Jon snorts. "Thanks, Zed," he mutters under his breath. Clears his throat, and picks up one of the notebooks, though he doesn't open it. It's more to have something to hold in his hands while he stands there and addresses the group.     He takes a moment to lean over and scritch behind the cat's ears. /He/ can tell she is okay with them, even if others can't. He smiles at her briefly, murmurs, "I'm certain no one would fault you accepting the hospitality." Then he smirks, and adds in a whisper, "The rest of that... is up to you."     Then he turns to the bar and says more loudly, "As you probably know if you watch the news at all, there's been a serial murderer operating in this neighborhood. The press is calling him 'the Papal Killer,' likely because the victims are found crucified, and... well. There was a picture. See the New York Post." He doesn't want to get into that. He /really/ doesn't.     He gestures to Sara. "Detective Pezzini was handed the case, and she brought me in to consult. I went to the... seventh crime scene, though the pattern indicates it was the eighth victim and we're missing one... and we discovered that the place was bright with angelic magic and Enochian writing. The victim's ghost was bound to the base of the cross, and I was able to pull a statement from her--to re-live her last moments, from her perspective."     A pause. "The killer is an angel. Not a demon, not a /Fallen/ angel. An angel, as in the Torah or the Bible."
Bart Allen	Bart Allen 's brow raises a bit as he hears this from Jon. "Emm, aint angels supposed to be the good guys and demons the bad guys, well Except for Blue Demon, and that other one who occasionally helps. Hmm, maybe this is Blue Angel, who works different than a normal Angel." He munches his fries a bit and wonders a loud a bit more "Maybe Red angel to be the opposite of Blue Devil."
Diana Prince	At Donna's light whispered words, Diana looks over to her sister briefly before showing a happy smile at her. "Such can be beneficial to a very productive team." She replies before her eyes dart back around to those gathered. She raises her drink for another sip before lowering the amber-hued ale glass back down, her left side leaning against the bar now. She looks to Jon when he starts to speak of the situation, and it makes a more serious look befall the Princess' gaze. She draws in a breath then, and starts to walk back toward the table that they had chosen, another glance given to Donna before Diana steps back to their table and sets the beer down upon it lightly. She reaches for her jacket to fish around in one of the pockets while listening to the conversations playing out.
Sara Pezzini	As Lydia calls over Sara offers a nod. "Lydia, good to see you. Was beginning to wonder if you were alright or not." She says, though she knows full well that she'd been just as busy, life was just as hectic and shit happened. As Jon goes into the explanation of the case, her eyes grow dark and she looks back to the coffee in her hand. She wanted alcohol, a lot of alcohol, but she's not going to drink. "I've managed to keep most of the other detectives from looking into this case," she adds, lifting her head and looking around the room. "This case is not one of those that can be solved by normal means, in fact the NYPD are at risk if they get too involved, so after Russo passed the case to me, I'm taking the heat for it." Some times knowing about the things behind the veil sucked, majorly sucked, and the knowledge that this case would officially end up a 'cold case' for the NYPD still punched her in the gut to think about.
Jonathan Sims	"That's what people tend to think, yes," Jon says to Bart. "Angels are good, demons are bad... but angels /create/ and demons /corrupt/, is really the distinction I would place. My own morality and ethics see both as potentially useful but also potentially... dangerous. Particularly when they go out of balance."     A pause. "This... is out of balance. It's /torturing/ people to death. Mind-controlling them to nail themselves to the cross, then mutilating the bodies before killing them with fire from the inside out. And it's treating shoplifters and embezzelers the same as murders and serial rapists. Not that /anyone/ deserves that kind of death, but... even where mortals give the death penalty we don't kill people for /shoplifting/."     Jon sighs and looks down at his notebook. "Also... it's threatened us. Directly. It's going to come for /us/, in time. Or... those at the crime scene. So there's a... personal motive to stopping this." He looks up. "And... moreover... angels cannot operate on their own. Either someone summoned it, or it's here in response to a demonic incursion we don't yet know about. I'll be frank: most of the suspects for potentially summoning such a thing are people we know, including several members of the Justice League Dark. Not that I /actually/ suspect my friends, but..."     He hesitates. "If... if anyone... look, if anyone /did/... muck about and summon an angel, just... just /tell/ us, please. Tell /me/ privately, if you must. Just... /tell/ us. Before anyone else gets killed." There's a kind of desperate plea in his tone, and his kunckles are white on the notebook. "Pezzini won't take anyone in, not until we know what's going on."
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia gives Sara a helpless shrug. "I died. Got better. You know how it is. When this is over we'll catch up." She falls silent then as Jon and Sara explain the situation. She scowls at the idea that any one of them could have summoned the avenging angel. She looks around the room and she doesn't see a single person she knows who would do such a thing and hide it from them. Perhaps she's wrong. She doesn't have anything to add to what's been already said. She's not a detective. She doesn't have her magic. Really all she's good for is to be muscle these days. She scowls at her Manhattan and tries not to dwell on that.
Zatanna Zatara	Face grave after Jon outlines the current situation, Zee clears her throat and again raises her voice to speak, "It is difficult to be light and social after what Jon has presented to you all. But I'll briefly add my introduction and another one of our group." " Also, John Constantine sends his greetings as well as his regrets for not being here." Zee's eyes sparkle humorously as she adds, "As well as his regret for his bad manners for not relaying this sooner." "You likely have noticed this most elegant feline at my side. She is one of the preeminent empathetic shapeshifters in the occult world - Meggan Puceanu, known by those who love her as Meggan." She touches the cat lightly at the back of its head and caresses her withers with a half-smile. " Most of you know me as Zatanna, I am a homo magi from the Zatara clan. Magic is in our blood which grants us a wide range of magic -teleportation, telepathy, and calling the elements part of the powers given my line." She turns to the bar and picks up her scotch, glinting amber and rainbow from the banner behind her, to toast the room.
Donna Troy	Donna's a little behind Diana in returning to their table -- she stops at the bar first to leave a generous stack of bills with Chas. Drinks are on the Themyscirans for the rest of the night. She takes the opportunity to hook a couple more bottles of beer to take back to the table with her, sliding one in front of Diana as she takes her seat. Neither Amazon has finished their first beers just yet, Donna's just trying to keep ahead of the crowd.     "Speaking of Constantine," Donna calls out, "I believe he was involved in consulting the archangel Suriel quite recently. Maybe some of the people here were present for that? Is there any possibility of a connection? Not suggesting it's the angel in question, but maybe some pathway was left open, or... something?"
Tim Drake	"He's right," comes a voice from the open door of the back room. Wait. Has the door been open this whole time?     The slow rustle of cape precedes the emergence of a shadowed figure, suited in more greys and blacks than is usual. A hood attached to his cape also briefly conceals his features, though Red Robin lowers it after a moment, the white lenses of his domino mask moving from person to person before finally settling on Jon. "There was another victim, between Joesph Morris on the 9th of November and Jeremiah Kestrel on the 15th. Katherine Langley."     He tips his head. "She died on the 13th, death by exposure. Same MO otherwise."     There's something just slightly off, a subtle modulation of his voice that puts him into a different register.     Red Robin steps forward, bypassing most of the assembled crowd at the bar, some familiar to him, some less so, to offer a closed fist for the cat upon it to sniff. And if that is accepted, some head-scritches. Despite Zatanna's introduction of the feline as a shapeshifter, he won't stop petting.     "Diana, Donna," he greets, warmly. Despite taking a page from the Dark Knight's book in terms of his appearance, there are already notable differences. "Nice banner." With the voice changer, it's even harder to tell if he's being sarcastic or not. Dry as Death Valley, there.     No one tell Damian he's stealing his shtick with the hood, okay?
Diana Prince	Diana has her phone out of the inside pocket of her jacket, and is tapping away on it. She looks up when Donna arrives with the beer bottles, which makes her quickly smile. After she sends the message off though she slips the phone on to the table and reaches for her glass. "I met a ... Angel without wings ... recently. I sent her a text message to see if this is something she could help with as well." She says then as her eyes go back out across the gathering, her glass raised up for another sip as she leans back against the edge of her tall table chair.
Rien D'Arqueness	Rien shakes her head at the explanation of what's been going on. Dealing with demonic forces was one thing, in fact it was her main job. Angels were another thing altogether, and not something she had spent much time learning about. They weren't the sort of thing you really had to deal with very often.     "I haven't noticed any excessive demonic energy lately, so I doubt it's in response to that. I have not had experience with angels myself, but if you need a hand, I'm always available to help. Even if it's just as a bodyguard so that it has an additional person to go through if it does come acound."
Meggan Constantine	Meggan remains quiet after her initial outburst, though she sits alertly in Zatanna's shadow. Additional chirping mews of inquiry are not called for. A silent headbump meets Jon's palm landing on her head, those overly large ears buckling and flattened out along the arc of his fingers in hopes of yet more attention. Red Robin only improves this situation when the Archivist speaks of crimes done, though she doesn't turn to him, only straightening up as far as she can to greet him with hello. Sharp claws concealed among fuzzy toes flex and vanish, like someone arbitrarily drawing a blade and sheathing it again. Clearly the cat follows along with the conversation, though her pupils dilate into huge black pools the more crimes are laid out. The bowtie lolling around her neck is still off-center, rakish, and made all the more so by an emphatic shake of her head at demon summoning. Elegant is a high bar to reach, and Donna's kind appraisal would no doubt please the faerie cat if she knew of it. She takes in the salute and perks again, blinking at the Themysciran. Then a slow shake of her head comes with a very high, sibilant voice because a cat's vocal structure varies intensely from a human's. "The circle was for show. She left here fully, I sense nothing by the stage where she appeared. The Cheshire Cat received a gift from her. He may know?"
Jonathan Sims	Jon opens his mouth to say something to Donna, but turns to look at Red Robin. "You found the missing crime scene." There's relief in his tone. "We're going to need to see it. Take the victim's statement, release her." Maybe the missing puzzle pieces are in that building.     His brain starts clicking along. "Maybe we can draw it there, tomorrow... lay ourselves out as bait..." He looks to Sara. "Me, you, maybe Red Robin here... others?"     Aside to Donna: "Anything you've seen or heard from John Constantine since July or August was a demonic meat-puppet, not the man himself. I think? I don't quite know /when/. But I doubt that angel's responsible for this--I've met her, and this is /very/ different energy." It's offhand. His mind's off on another possibility.
Sara Pezzini	Sara's eyes shift to the new arrival as he announces the missing crime scene. Another punch in the gut, the sort that Witchblade can't defend her against. None of it shows on her face of course, she listens to Red Robin's report on what he found, and then she looks to Jon. "Just tell me when and where," she states plainly, conviction to her tone. "And don't forget to let Cael know. She won't forgive either of us, ever, if we bench her for this." Now her eyes swing to Chas, "Got a little Irish Whiskey, not a lot, just need a little kick after all this."
Zatanna Zatara	Zatanna tracks the caped presence into their midst. A sigh and a reach for the cat's back, comfort to be found in its soft fur, greet his unveiling yet another death. She says nothing but nods content at who Jon names to bait the trap. "You remember, I already offered though it might smell my blood and give us away."
Bruce Wayne	"Anything can die," comes a grim voice from one darkened corner of the front bar, filling a space that until just now seemed nothing more than shadows, "Even creatures of myth. I'd think that a group like this would specialize in conquering the unconquerable." The figure in the dark steps forward. Tall - uncomfortably so - and wrapped in darkness. The cape he wears seems to obey his every whim, wrapping about him to conceal his body. His eyes take on a menacing white glow, and only his frowning mouth is truly visible. He takes up a position behind Diana, standing there like some gargoyle protector summoned out of the ether. "I'll ask, though: what makes this creature an angel and not a mutant or some other sort of metahuman?" A glance is given to Red Robin, and silent judgement is passed: 'You used the door? Shame on you.'
Chas Chandler	Chas was wiping a glass down when both Red Robin and Batman of all people appear in his bar. He *almost* drops the glass. It's a near thing and he swallows at the emergence of two of Gotham's heavies in his establishment. Should he ask them what they want to drink? Would they even answer him.     His expression shows that he is only now seeming to realize that this is a real thing. This is happening. This rag-tag group of mystics around him are actually stepping into the wider world of saving people from threats--maybe not publicly (not fully) but more than they had before.
Jonathan Sims	Jon blinks over at... Batman. /The/ Batman. Look, he's seen Wonder Woman on television, but Batman's... a whole other thing. The guy used to work at Arkham. Batman haunts the dreams of some of his earliest patients, as well he should.     So that's why his voice wavers /just/ a touch when he says, "The magic, and my own..." He sighs. "It's hard to explain, I suppose you could think of it like... wavelengths of light? Angelic magic is different than mortal, or demonic, or fae. Moreover, I have /experienced/ their deaths, from their perspectives, and I have ancestral memories of said ancestors fighting--and defeating--angels. This is the same sort of thing."     He pauses, and then smiles. "Admittedly... it's my /belief/ that says this is an angel and not, say, an alien or extradimensional entity. But I don't need anyone to /believe/ we're fighting an actual angel, so long as they're aware what the dangers are and how to defeat the thing." A pause. "Negative energy, outlasting it, and greater circles of binding, the incantations reversed and infused with negative energy. And... the judgement of my own gods, should they judge it worthy of banishment or... well. Destruction? I... /think/ my ancestors have destroyed angels in the past?" He hesiates, then shrugs. "Honestly I don't care what it's doing so long as it's not /here/, killing people."     He glances aside to Zatanna, expression concerned. "It's Pezzini's case, on the mortal side. And she should be able to survive whatever the angel does to her. But... thank you for the offer, Zed."     Nods, once, to Pezzini, making a face at 'Cael.' He doesn't want to risk her. She's a /mortal/. But Sara's right--she'd never forgive them if they kept her out of this.
Donna Troy	Donna acknowledges Jonathan's comment with a nod, refraining from making any quips about how anyone would actually spot the difference between the real Constantine and a demonic meat puppet. She had heard suggestions that the man had been acting rather strangely, even by his own high standards of strangeness, lately.     Meggan's own comments receives another nod, and a reply: "Thank you," she answers the elegant cat. "Yes, it's from the Cheshire Cat I heard about it. I raised the question only because it was so recently that the attention of that realm has been drawn close." That's the end of it for now -- thought she does make a mental note to ask Raven to take a look at that feather Vorpal had left with, just on the off-chance that there's anything interesting there. No need to occupy the time of these sorcerers with what is in all probability a wild goose chase when you've got a sorceress of your own to bother with these things.     Tim's arrival and greeting Donna replies to in kind with a smile, a nod, and a simple "Red Robin," in greeting. Batman's arrival -- or rather the revelation of his presence -- occurs when she has her beer to her lips, and it's to her credit that she manages to avoid a spit-take. She leans across to Diana and whispers "How does he /always/ manage to do that?"
Sara Pezzini	Rumors don't do the Bat justice, but now wasn't really the time to fangirl because Sara seriously wanted to laugh at him. Not his look, or attitude, but the question. He answered his own question really, starting statement about specializing in conquering the unconquerable... that's how they new it was an angel, and not a mutant or metahuman. It was this groups specialty to know. "Impressive," she manages to say without laughing, but she is smiling all the same. "You answered your own question by the way," she then offers. "About how we know, and that we are capable of conquering the unconquerable. You'd be surprised what magic can achieve." Now that there's a little Irish to her coffee she takes a drink and settles back to listen to the rest of the conversations.
Bart Allen	Bart Allen looks at Tim wondering a bit at the voice modulator and costume change but then when the Bat makes his appearance he nods a bit. Rob always has to be a bit more standoffish when the boss is about. "Highly enhanced tech can be used to make people think of magic, but I take it you guys have a way of telling real magic versus fake." He says thinking of his family's "magic" villian. He hmms a bit in thought and says "And the Angel is the only thing that has left traces on the victims? Aint like it was trying to take out something possessing the people and took out the person along with the bad influence? Baby and the Bathwater and all?
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia nearly jumps out of her skin when Batman arrives. Even her heightened senses didn't detect his arrival. Even now she can't hear his heartbeat like she can the others in this room, and his smell blends in so well that it's almost indetectable. She can't help but feel nervous around the man. Almost guilty, like her own undead state is enough to pull the ire of the man. "How did he /do/ that?" she breathes.
Diana Prince	Diana's eyes are on Tim's arrival, she smiles to him and offers a nod. When a moment passes and Batman arrives behind her right shoulder, she doesn't react to it... did she know he was there? Who is to say. Her eyes do scan around the faces as they react to him being behind her, but it is Donna who draws Diana's attention lastly. Her question has the Princess laughing softly and shortly. She leans over and says quietly back. "He is as consistent with that, as he is with frowning." She says before straightening on her perch on the edge of her chair. Her drink is lifted for another sip before she finally spares a glance back over her shoulder at the man in the dark attire.
Tim Drake	Red Robin nods to Jon. "I did," he confirms. Find the missing crime scene, that is. The particulars, however, he does not immediately divulge.     Instead, his attention slowly shifts towards a shadowy corner of the Laughing Magician. At Batman's announcement of his presence, and subsequent subtle (to everyone else) judgment of his own arrival, Tim only tilts his chin up slightly.     On anyone else it'd be the equivalent of sticking his tongue out and going "nyah!" It's just as Bart surmises: the presence of the Bat often affects a change in those he's trained. But not so much that Tim's personality is lost entirely.     The slow petting of his fingertips against Meggan's soft, furry head barely pauses when the cat adds to the information being shared. Does he have any true awareness of just how powerful the shapeshifted feline he's petting truly is?     Who knows. It might be he's just rolling with the magical punches, here.     "I'll help however I can, including sharing my analysis of the crime scene," Red Robin adds.
Zatanna Zatara	A brief sardonic smile crosses Zatanna's face as Batman looms large from the shadows. "Thank you coming, Batman. Can we offer you anything to drink?" A quick glance around the room measures the responses to the 'magic' of his arrival. The word anathema to the caped man. A faint smile illuminates her face as she listens to Pez answer him. She gestures an acknowledgement to Jon.Then, everhearing Diana's word, she bends over her to whisper to the Princess, "Glower. It's his speciality."
Meggan Constantine	The combined wattage of the Themysciran personages in their midst just about knocks the faerie cat off her chair. No amount of experience quite overcomes the novelty or awe for Donna and Diana being in proximity, their questions and encouragement in an investigation of no little magnitude a counterbalance for the atrocities on order. Then two Gothamites appear, and the residual shockwaves rolling over them all but drown Meggan under the empathic wave. She won't be needing that dish of lactose-free milk, gold bowl or not. Healthily fed by the emotive infusion, the result will be to sit very still under friendly pets. Just in case judgment might be passed on a petite brindled feline with a stylish bowtie, talking cat or not. She will stare unblinking though, her ears trained forward, on the one person in the room next to impossible for her to read. Briefly a sniff in Red Robin's direction, then back to the Bat. On the other hand, Red Robin -- or Rien and Lydia -- are probably the only ones who know she is purring her fool head off. Quietly.
Rien D'Arqueness	Looking over as Batman reveals himself, Rien considers his words. After a moment she nods and says "Yes, I'm fairly certain it can be killed if we need to. I don't know exactly what is needed to do it, as I've always worked against the other side of that particular coin. I'll take a quick trip home and consult the libraries, see if I can get an idea of how to deal with this kind of being."     "As for it not being some kind of metahuman, I'm willing to take Jon's word for it, he seems much more familiar with such beings. If it is just some kind of mutant or alien, then we can deal with it. If not, it will probably be rather difficult, but that's why we're here, isn't it? We'll get the job done."     She shrugs and takes a sip from her glass, looking over the people assembled under the Justice League Dark banner. "We may not have expected our first case to drop into our welcome party, but I don't think any of us expects the dark forces of the world to have good timing."
Bruce Wayne	"An angel is just an extra-terrestrial or extra-dimensional creature, Mister Sims," the Batman answers flatly, "Albeit one humankind have chosen to lump in with the mystical and sacrosanct to avoid having to think too long and hard about them. This angel has its weaknesses, and scientific process can render it knowable. Known. But, given what you've said, there's no time for that. Mysticism will have to serve." He holds back on his treatise on magic. It's clear what he thinks of it now. Sara is given a singular look. There's not much there to read. No frown. No words. No cant of the head. He simply regards her for a moment and moves on. "But we're not here to define magic," he admits, glance trailing from Donna, to Diana, then finally to Zatanna, "I wanted to see the people we're placing our trust in." The Dark Knight strides purposefully across the room, moving out from behind Diana's chair. His presence seems to grow to fill the space. Something about years of training to play a very specific part. He pauses for a moment, dropping down to one knee and actually running his knuckles over the cat's head. A little scritch. From Batman of all people. Then he rises back to his feet and takes his place with back to the wall. "Carry on. Please."
Donna Troy	Donna gives a nod to Zatanna, joining in the briefly whispered exchange with a whisper of her own in accord with Zatanna's analysis: "Definitely glower. Not just his speciality, it's his super-power. Sometimes all he has to do is glower and the bad guys just surrender."     Maybe she's emboldened by Batman moving away from his position behind the Amazons, but he can probably still hear. Maybe she's just being brave. True, in recent months she has snapped at Hekate and sworn a challenge to Hades in his own realm, but this is /Batman/. He's no extra-terrestrial nor extra-dimensional being, he's the perfectly normal mortal human who extra-terrestrial and extra-dimensional beings have nightmares about.     It may be pure bat-theater, but it's damn effective.
Jonathan Sims	"Can you /take/ us there, Red Robin? Tomorrow? It's going to kill someone else. Every three days, it's been. But I think it wants people to know--so maybe if we make a big deal out of investigating the missing crime scene, it'll show." Jon glances at Batman and adds, "Ahh... it's Dr. Sims, if you please." He says it politely. More politely than he usually does. And he won't push if Batman insists on 'Mr.'     He looks to Bart and adds, "I can /see/ magical flows." He gestures around. "I can see people's thoughts and emotions... well, most people's..." He glances at the Gothamites, "but also... the ley lines that run beneath Manhattan, old and powerful. The wards on this building, the magic that keeps the door hidden. The lingering traces of it on the people here who use it regularly." A pause. "None of them were possessed, to my knowledge, Impulse. It... the mutilations have been... ahh... poetic justice, one might say." He makes a face. "Befitting of the crimes they committed."     He looks to Rien. "I would appreciate any further research you could provide. Most of my sources, with angels, say /do not engage/. That is... sort of part of my job as Archivist, however, since most people don't go toe-to-toe with angels. What I've come up with thus far, like I said, is negative energy--dark magic, void magic, if you will--or just outlasting the thing. An inverted greater circle of binding infused with negative energy will hold the thing, but that's /not/ my forte, at all. I am not a ritualist. My magic is almost entirely a matter of taking ideas from the Astral Plane--a platonic ideal, if you will--and manifesting it into reality. I /could/ do a binding in a pinch, if I had the right words and ritual implements but... I'd rather someone was around who knew them." He looks between Rien and Zatanna. And the cat, for some reason?
Diana Prince	The comment from Zatanna has Diana showing a playful grin in return before she glimmers a glance at Donna too. Her beer is lifted up for another sip then as her eyes befall Batman stepping around her to go and pet the lovely feline. This brings a true smile to the Princess' red hued lips. She just silently observes from her place at the tall table on the edger of the bar.
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia looks thoughtful for a moment. "I'll come with you tomorrow," she offers. "Maybe my enhanced senses will pick up a clue or something." She shrugs. "If nothing else a little muscle in case the angel decides to show up would be useful." She lets out a sigh. She's still trying to figure out her place in the JLD, caught in a space between wanting to be useful and actually being useful. "I could probably come up with the rite," she tells Jon. "I may not have magic anymore but that doesn't mean that all my knowledge of it has faded along with it. It just means that somebody /with/ power will have to do it."
Meggan Constantine	One does not simply disregard the important conversations of the natures of angels, magic, and punishment inflicted on rather innocent mortals. Meggan really would be following as Rien and Jonathan raising important clarifications to Batman's rational approach. There is much to be learned but... Knuckles grazing the soft fur between her ears erase all the words in a bit of white noise as the Bat graces her with a rough scritch. She, in turn, responds by rubbing her cheek against his hand in a tacit 'this one doesn't die tonight' move. Only when his back is turned, in best of bat drama, does the audible escalation of a purr become a ludicrous symphony. Those lambent green eyes almost close, after turning cat satisfaction in Diana's direction. Hope will always be found in troubled times; it wears a cape sometimes and has excellent posture. Jon will get around to receiving an answer, when she returns to the normal timestream. The years now have a new dating system; BBS. ABS.
Tim Drake	There's something to be said about the soothing quality of a purring cat. Or powerful magical being shapeshifted into a purring cat. The details here are unimportant.     Red Robin budges over with a simple side-step to allow Batman access to the feline. He does not make any kind of comment about Bats and Cats.     Likely this does not stop Batman from knowing Tim would absolutely make a comment if the situation were different.     To Jon, he nods. "Of course. I'll be there."     Back to petting, now that Batman has graced Meggan with his attentions. "Given what I found, I'd appreciate someone with enhanced senses looking over the crime scene," he tells Lydia with a supportive nod. And with that said, like Batman, Red Robin disengages from the talk. Whatever his opinions of magic, he keeps them to himeslf. Though there are a few people present who are aware that he has a different perspective than his mentor, on the subject.
Terry O'Neil	Terry had said he would try to be there, but that it was his day of pulling double duty at the Planet and Starr Inc, and both Lois and Miss Starr needed things to be finished. And you didn't say no to them. Lois might glare a hole through your head with those disappointment lasers she called eyes, and Karen would... try to hug you and try to sympathize. It was awkward. In any case, even taking that into account, Terry was still decidedly /late/ by those standards. And then, in a lull in the conversation, a sound from outside becomes louder and louder. It sounds like the hounds of hell are on the move, an infernal choir of canine voices clamoring, thirsty for blood, for fresh flesh to tear into. To feed. They are coming. Coming closer, closer. And there is a voice, rising above it like some unhinged Norma in the midst of the most surreal rendition of Casta Diva: "aAaahaaHAhahahaha AAAHhaahahahahahahaa ohgodOhGodohGod stand back you beastly-" And that's when the door to the Magician opens wide, and out of that frame there comes Vorpal, although at first he might not be easily identified thanks to the fact that his fur is covered, dripping, with mustard. And ketchup. And other condiments. He sheds relish like a pine tree sheds needles in a gale. Pickles fly with every frantic movement of his hands. On top of his usual Titan attire, he also seems to be wearing several yards... or more... of linked sausage. It is wrapped around his legs, his torso, his arms, even his tail, writhing as if it were alive, And the reason for his running happens to be the horde of street dogs that is chasing him. At least twenty. Dogs of all shapes and sizes, from mighty Dobermen to woofy Cocker Spaniels to the kind of mongrel that has flyaway fur at the head but lean in the back because a whippet shagged a lion somewhere. They all file in after Terry, and they all want a piece of him. "Back you hellhounds!" one of the creatures tries to bite his arm, and he defends himself by conjuring some of that powerful magic glitter- but the projectile misses the dog altogether, making a beeline in a vaguely Jon-wards direction, just as the Cheshire cat leaps onto the bar to try to put some distance between himself and the beasts. "Somebody do something, I don't want to hurt them!"
Jonathan Sims	Jon is /trying/ to take things seriously. He /is/. People are /dying/ out there, and it's his responsibility, suddenly, to take care of it (whose bright idea was /that/?), and this is /dangerous/... he's even ignoring the dang telepathic cat nearby, broadcasting bliss, which he'd /really/ like to just close his eyes and divert his attention to because he didn't sleep well...     But then Terry happens.     The glitter explodes over the Archivist, coating face and shirt and cardigan in equal measure. He blinks for a long moment, pulls off his glasses--leaving blank spots on his face around his eyes--and stares at the pack of wild dogs. He can't /quite/ see them, particularly past the /magic glitter/ now in his vision, gumming up his Sight with rainbows and surreal chaos.     "Wh... who...?" Blink, blink, blink.
Bruce Wayne	Batman simply gives Jon a look that suggests he'll take the title under advisement, but he says nothing further. When he is listening, the Dark Knight is still as a statue. It can even seem as though the very darkness is creeping forth to conceal him, though that couldn't possible be true, could it? As plans are made, he lifts his head to catch Diana's gaze across the room. Again, he speaks without words, simply nodding his head once. The sudden arrival of Terry prompts little more than a blank look from him. After a moment he reaches into his belt, producing a thin metal tube. He holds it to his lips for a second and then blows. The sound is piercing to those with senses capable of hearing on that level, but for average human ears it is little more than a disquieting feeling in the back of the skull. All the same, the dogs pause and - as one - stare at the Dark Knight. He points, and they abruptly turn and file out the door as quickly as they came in. He then moves towards Terry, plucking one of the sausage links from around his shoulders and crouching down to face the Meggan cat. He clicks his tongue against his teeth and holds it out for her. He's developed an affinity for cats over the years.
Tim Drake	And amongst the chaos of yapping dog voices and Vorpal's appearance, the inaugural meeting of the Justice League Dark loses an attendee.     Somewhere outside, Red Robin is holding court amongst the dogs, crouched down and using both hands to provide headpats and belly rubs.
Bart Allen	Bart Allen will actually take the rest of the sausages off Vorpal in a blur,and is outside with Tim. After all the dogs did listen to the bat, so they should get treats for listening. He will hand them to Tim to feed the puppers, and heads up towards his apartment and is back into the Bar offering a towel first to Jon, and then to Terry.
Donna Troy	And there's Terry. The brave, bold Titan Vorpal. The Cheshire cat. Covered in meat and condiments, pursued by a pack of dogs, spreading glitter wherever he goes, though mostly on Jonathan this time.     Donna gives out a long sigh and lowers her head to rest it on the top of her table. After a moment she raises it and lowers it again with a distinct bump.     Diana's going to blame /her/ for this. Just because Vorpal's a Titan, Diana seems to be under the illusion Donna has /any/ sway over Vorpal's magnetic attraction to the most absurd forms of trouble.     It's so unfair.     Condiments, she can understand. She too has had run-ins with the Condiment King. Most people in the business have at some point or other -- he's annoying like that. But to combine it with meat? This is just too /Terry/.
Zatanna Zatara	"Impressive display of dog and cat acumen, Batman." Acumen hastily replacing magic. One by one the crowd begins to diminish. Zatanna turns to face Chas, holding up her glass in a mute plea for more scotch. A question is written large in the cant of her head and the lift a shoulder. Then, she turns half-way to face the room, ribs against the wood polished by countless hands to look at the Justice League melding with their newer, darker half. "What do you think, Chas? Will Magic and rationality mix?"
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia recoils at the sudden entrance of Terry as he leaps up on the counter before her. She manages to back away with her drink before he can spill it and is able to get clear of the dogs too. The overpowering smell of ketchup and mustard causes her to wrinkle her nose and hold the back of her hand to it, trying to dampen the stench to her heightened senses. When Batman pulls out his dog whistle and blows it, Lydia winces again. "Augh," she says. "I can /hear/ that." It's less of a complaint than it is a statement. She, in fact, had /no/ idea that she could hear dog whistles up until right now.
Rien D'Arqueness	The cacophony from outside has Rien heading towards the door before it flies open to admit Terry. Blinking at the sight of Terry bedecked in foodstuffs and the pack of dogs chasing him, a smile quirks up the corners of her mouth. Realizing that despite the amusing picture this paints the dogs might actually hurt him, she thinks quickly and casts a spell. Most of the people in the room won't hear anything, but anyone with enhanced hearing will be hit with a loud ultrasonic whistle. Hopefully this will send the dogs running back out of the bar, as she doesn't want to see them actually hurt.     "Playing with your food? Or did you run into the Condiment King in an alley nearby?" She looks Terry over and continues, "I'd offer you a napkin, but I don't think it would help that much.
Sara Pezzini	Having zoned out to think about the case and tomorrow's activities, Sara zones back in just in time to watch a pack of dogs chasing a meat covered young man darting through the bar. Blinking once, she checks to ensure that her brain is actually seeing what she thinks she is seeing, and it is. Thankfully she comes to this conclusion in time to dodge away from the pack and man, taking her coffee with her. "What in the hell is..." she manages to blurt out and then she's moving away at the same time Lydia is. "Well this just got interesting. Lydia, do you know this meat covered young man?"
Meggan Constantine	The countless howls and bays from mischievous cretins chasing a fellow cat of chaos into the Laughing Magician very nearly produces an equal and opposite reaction, proving the Laws of Magic might not have been so distant from Newton's insights. The great scientist went absolutely nutters in an attic trying to reconcile alchemy and occult studies the way he did physics by the time he was 25, take that how one will. Before Meggan can adequately prove just how it all works, a rational, cold Bat stare that withers the mightiest of extraterrestrial or New Godly hearts (save hers, for now) puts paid to a whole pack of misbehaving mutts driven to rambunctious heights of foolishness. Her tail swishes once in a mighty arc, and then she lands lighter than a feather would on the ground. Approaching Batman, the wide green eyes turned up to him for a moment; a slow blink, then to the sausage in question. The purr begins again, soft, but there. If he's patient, a petite bite follows, as she demonstrates the daintiest of manners and nothing at all hinting that she might have snarled down a dog three times her side without even thinking. With Diana gone, she /can/ finally eat without wanting to die behind a dish of embarrassment.
Chas Chandler	Chas blanches at the condiments on his bar floor and even more as the dogs pour in. But then Batman is there to save at least half of the day with a whistle and a command. He still sighs as he sees the puddle of condiments at his entryway. "I'll... get the mop..." he mutters as he moves out from the bar to the kitchette and it's little mop station there.     Not how he planned any of this... but then again, what else was new in his life. Nothing went off without a hitch these days--why should the official inaugural meeting be any different. It was comforting, in its own way. As he passes Zatanna, with a bucket and mop he looks to her. "I doubt it. Usually with magic in the mix most rational rules go out the window." He shrugs. "I mean. I'm willing to listen, but when reality is bending to something else's will... I don't know that science can help."
Lydia Dietrich	Lydia shakes her head at Sara. "No idea. He's new to me, too. I, uh... ugh. Can we get him under a hose?" She's still trying to deal with the smells that're assaulting her. She takes a deep breath in through the mouth and then lets it all out through her nose, clearing the sinuses, and then just... stops breathing altogether. There. Problem solved.
Terry O'Neil	The look on Terry's face is that of sheer embarrassment. Not that there is /much/ that will embarrass the Cheshire Cat... but getting the Bat-stare while covered in the contents of a small deli? That'll do it. "... the Condiment King's got a new sidekick. She adds something to the sauce that drives dogs wild..." he mutters in answer to Rien, meekly accepting Bart's towel. He does his best to pat himself down so as not to drip condiment all over. He glances at Donna, and then quickly glances away. Sees Diana, and glances AWAY from there, trying very hard not to look at Batman. And then he sees /Jon/. Covered in glitter. "... well. At least I made it," he says, in the same voice that 'Ave Caesar, morituri te salutant' used to be intoned in.
Jonathan Sims	The dogs leave, and Jon hunches his shoulders against the weird feeling at the back of his skull as Batman sends them away. But he's peering down at himself, at his arms, covered in glitter. His favorite cardigan, bedazzled. Even with the towel Bart offers, it's going to take /forever/ to clean this up.     He starts to laugh. Genuinely, a rich, warm laugh. Meggan can feel the way his mind relaxes, knots that he's held in for /weeks/ unraveling in the face of the blast of Chaos he just got to the face.     Maybe the Archivist just needs to be silly more often? It's an idea.     "Lord, I'm glad I'm not going home tonight. Martin would /kill/ me if I tracked this much glitter into the flat." He's grinning, though. He works on cleaning his glasses with the towel, so he can /see/, then puts them back on and peers at Terry. "Who's this? Besides, ahh... sparkly." Pause. Blink. "I've... never seen /those/ colors in an aura before."
Zatanna Zatara	Scotch in hand Zatanna benignly looks over the condiment mayhem covering the bar floor. Batmans' performance with the dogs, genuinely impressed her. His ways with cats not surprising her in the least, he's had practice. Tidbits offered to Meggan widen the smile that was already playing on her lips as she wonders if Batman knows he is offering homage to magic with that mistreated sausage. "Glitter suits you, Jon. So does that smile!"
Donna Troy	As if to answer any questions on the identity of the meat-and-condiment covered arrival, a Themysciran-accented voice rises up from the depths of (mostly faux) despair. Echoing against the wood of the table-top on which the owner of said Themysciran-accented voice rests her head; heartfelt, limned with notes of the realization of inevitability, tinged with more than a hint of amusement: "VOOORPAL!"
Sara Pezzini	A name to put to the meat covered face and Sara is content for the time being. Finishing off her coffee, she moves around to set the empty cup in the dirt dish container, then lays a ten dollar bill on the bar. "Jon, give me a call when uh..." she looks toward Red Robin then back to Jon. "Everything is ready, I'll be there with bells on."
Terry O'Neil	The Themysciran yell, not unlike the wail of Eurycleia when Anticlea walked into the ocean, makes Vorpal give a little start. "Er, it's ok. I'll see myself out. I just remembered that my grandmother's... on fire... right." He starts sliding off the bar, leaving twin streaks of mustard and ketchup from his tail. "I'll just - yeah." He reaches over and gestures- And a Rabbit Hole doesn't open. He stares. It continues not opening, and then he 'ahs'. "Right. The spell proofing..." He takes several steps stairwards, "I'll just go back to the Planet and. Er. See if anyone wants a hamburger. Right." And with that he makes a brisk line towards the door.