Just Desserts

September 06, 2015:

Construction continues at the Egyptian, where interviews are held and dances are had.

The Egyptian


NPCs: Keith, interviewees, movers, shakers, testers, besters



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

New day, yet the construction was still under way at the Egyptian. It was a conglomerate of noises, tools banging against metal, saws and other sorts of electric masses were put to the test. Fixtures were added to bring forth light, and while the first floor, the main casino area of the Egyptian was settled, equipment was brought in to test the tables while a few of the security men came in with their bag of quarters and fanned out amongst the floors to play a few games just to see how it works.

Melody remained in the back office, fingers typing away upon her computer as she looks towards the woman in front of her with a scrutinizing gaze. "You know how to count right?" She asks the woman, who looks at her nearly bewildered. The lady, she had to be late thirties early forties, and compared to Mel, Melody was just a baby who gave insult.

"Excuse me?"
"I asked, if you knew how to count."
"What type of question is that?"
"It's a question that's required for you to answer with utmost honesty for you to pass this portion of the interview. Here."

Melody leans forward to retrieve her pistol, un-assing the clip from its designated place to rest it down upon the table. "Check it." She starts to eject the bullets, them popping out onto the table as she leans back, gaze pointed.

"How many bullets did I just eject from this clip?"

While interviews were going on (mind you, a line of people were outside of her office), moving crews lined the streets, big burly men carrying mattresses and the like to dress down the hotel rooms upon the top floors, even the all too special suites that were pre-labled and shipped from New York.

Jungle Garden.

Business.. while it wasn't started yet, it definitely had the makings to boom.

I'm a princess cut from marble, smoother then a storm. Weaving between the bodies it seems as if stilletos should not carry the woman with such an ease, but like a liquid shadow she dances between them all, the music is a low thrum from the speakers as it gets tested, as well as all the other electronics along different mainframes. Although the place was not open the bar is manned for the bodies that choose to be littered along the main floor for 'testing' purposes. High rollers of the joined or /joining/ Families of Gotham under scrutiny and the Calbreses' new heiress…

And the scars that mark my body, they're silver and gold, The dress upon her svelte figure hugs lithe curvature honed to a gymnasts perfection, accentuating every ripple and flow of sateen fabric accented in red diamond droplets along the sheer placement of a swirling pattern that dares to reach (or not reach) certain apexes and avenues, low falling in the back to rest in a deep v, the stopping point just at the base of spine leaving pale effigy bare to the eyes that dared follow her back with desire or espionage in intent. My blood is a flood of rubies, precious stones.It keeps my veins hot, the fire's found a home in me.

The high slit upon one side of the dress bears flashes of skinscape from heel to hip with every dancing step, though through the small bluetooth device in her ear she clicks through channels, even picking up on Rant's interviewing methods, knowing the sound of a gun losing chamber.

"Im must say, wherever you go for days… You are beginning to make me wonder…" Pause as she twirls past a waiter practicing his carriage of a tray of champagne and she sweeps a glass up in her solo tango. "Should I love you more?" The words purred before she sips from the glass.

Surprising how long it takes to build a monster hotel-casino complex. Fantomex has visited a few times and it is still going. Maybe he should steal some building robots for Selina. They say Doctor Doom is repurposing Doombots for agriculture or something weird. They must be cheap in the black market (and by 'cheap', Fantomex means 'free').

It is still going to look pretty good. A pity the Heiress of the Calabrese is no longer a thief. Thieves are awesome. Instead she will be a crimelord. Crimelords suck.

But wait, a solo tango? That is almost a crime. He sliiiiiides to intercept, catching the dark-haired woman mid-stride. "The answer, mon chere. Oui."

The woman nearly cowed as Melody produced the gun, which causes her to let out a sigh.

"Alright. Jacqueline is it? You're obviously new to Gotham, judging by how red your face is and how scared you look. Tell you what. You're good at house keeping right? Take that as a starting position." Jaqueline was greatful, she traveled all the way from Maine at a chance at a better life. Though, picking Gotham to make that start was extremely suspect.

"Alright, here's your paperwork. Fill that out and return it to me in a week. In three days time you'll have an appointment at the local clinic, with two days to get your drug and hearing tests done. You miss your clinicals, you miss the job. See you next Saturday."

Melody waves her hand away as she waits until the woman leaves out the door, soon collecting the bullets to replace into the gun one by one. "Hmm?" She asks of Selina, the screen automatically flickering to zoom in upon the woman as she takes the champagne from the tray.

"I don't know. Maybe love me less?" She sighs. "Besides.. considering the clientele we're going to pull in, we can't have anyone that gets afraid at the drop of a hat." As Fantomex slides in, Melody giggles and shakes her head, then leans forward to stick her gun against her back.


I move through town, I'm quiet like a fight. And my necklace is of rope, I tie it and untie.

Selina is simply the head of a family. The head of a very wealthy and established family in Gotham, and sometimes to take up a throne offered to you on a golden platter of milk… Is one you have to sit on and lap from the offered ambrosia. But while they watch what you /do/ in show…

// This is the start of how it all ends..// Her spin that lands her in the Frenchman's arms, those emerald eyes lined ina feline kohl flicking up to his masked face as she speaks now in response to apparently both of them. "Oh but I can already feel it breaking with the simple concept." Loving more, truly loving? Or loving less? It is love, and it has left her nearly crippled several times over. Selina can only love what she /does/.

I'm speeding up and this is the red, orange, yellow flicker beat sparking up my heart. The steps that carry her with Fantomex are guiding at first, a waltz of large steps that split that dress' purposeful seam further, but carry them away from open ears and the other end of roulette tables that make for white noise while she speaks to the two.

"Make sure, if they seem suspicious their file goes separately. Harv did not leave any wiggle room for how he came across the info and how many want me dead for it, even within. Keith has been reassigned. He is officially one of your men, Rant. I trust him with you and vice versa. He can go to both lives…All of them." And Selina cannot say that for many when she is a woman loving off 9 of them… In all manners.

I never watch the stars, there's so much down here. Those shadowed eyes veiled in noir lashes never left fantomex though, leaning in to close the gap between their dancing forms. "Ou avez-vous ete, mon voleur?"

Fantomex adapts to Selina's tango with graceful ease, and lets her lead, since she has always interesting things to say. Of course he is listening at a few levels. And although he can't say he likes what he hears, he will remember.

"Never, all my attention is here, chere," he lies. He wanders all the time and New York has occupied much of his time lately. "The stars are cold and distant, anyway. They have no heart and can't be stolen. So… injuste."

A young man walks in, though.. filled with muscles and carrying the weight of a true gothamite. Melody says nothing, listening to Fantomex and Selina speak, all the while she's tip tapping away upon the keyboard. She nods her head even though it'll go unseen, her gaze flitting towards the man who looks to be in his thirties. Possibly a felon, someone who's life was made better by doing hard time and reading books on the law until he did his bid.

"Jackson, right?" She asks quietly, then gives him a considerable gaze.. then goes through the motions of the questioning, asking about his time in the joint and just 'why' does anyone would want to work here?

His story seemed straight, and the same spiel was given, though the file was put in the halfway point between normal, and Harvey's. "We should probably pay for Keith to get a new name. But, whatever works. I'll keep him." She grins just a little, as Keith grunts loudly in the background. "How's it looking down there? I have several more to go for tonight."

I dream all year, but they're not the sweet kinds. Selina tilts her head as she finally lets the dance still while she listens in on Rant and what Fantomex has to say, his pale gaze in offset to her own is of a much finer facet in one area over another. The lean closer to him falls away as she rocks back and inspects in a /slow/ fall and rise of those eyes, one hand leaving his to bring champagne to lips and drain the flute, slipping the slender stem in a swift motion, close to dropping…

And the shivers move down my shoulder blades in double time. The scrape of pointed nails over glass capture the empty flute before it is about to complete fall away, the tink of a single nail upon its lip signifying the pendulum of time before words. "Je sais, Fantom. You are gone too long for that, and I /know/ when attention is elsewhere and everywhere." Her other hand slides from his shoulder and down his front, those 'claws' leaving trails upon the fabric of attire. Ascending now that path comes to place a digit over the imprint of where masked lips would lay. "Mine is too, afterall. Do not think me a fool, I am not as lost as you think." Her words a whisper, but not devoid to him and Rant. Though then her words shift to her now.

"find his firends, find his enemies. He made plenty in prison. Keith, don't you even pretend to protest. You can even pick your /own name/! Isn't that great!?" A roll of eyes and she gives Fantomex a -dashing- smile of all ivories.

"But forget about that. Now where did you want this dance to lead, /mes risques et perils?/" That single digit tapping upon covered chin.

But I got my fingers laced together and I made a little prison - And I'm locking up everyone who ever laid a finger on me.

"Guilty as charged," admits Fantomex, twirling Selina as the dance finishes. "But I won't bore you with mutant business. Lets just say I am glad Huge Strange is out of Gotham SRD. That man was infamous even in the files of inexistent agencies like Weapon-X."

He takes a step back, bows, smoothers his white shirt and glances up at Melody in her back office, through the camera. "And you, mademoiselle Kenway. Would you ever come down to dance, like normal people?" Because dancing in the middle of half-built casino is what normal people do. In Gotham.

"Childs play." Is all she utters out, gesturing towards Keith to dismiss the rest with an order to return at 8AM on the dot. He does so, but the remaining few were wise enough to leave behind resumes, which actually show ambition. It was something that she could do in the middle of the night when she's quietly too afraid to sleep.

Keith, doesn't utter another word towards Selina, while it's true that he could pick his own name, the prospect of disrespecting his mother was daunting. He still visits her on weekends, and she could still put the hurting on him no matter how huge he was.

"I've already have two shelved away in his pile, and I do think that we're due a meet and greet with him soon enough." She finally murmurs, standing up from the desk as she glances down towards the monitors. Fantomex looks up at her, and soon.. she frowns, even though he possibly could see it through use of EVA.

"I don't dance. I -can't- dance. Besides, she said something in french that makes me think she said risky. I don't want to get in between that. It'll be a mess."

And this is the red, orange, yellow flicker beat-beat-beat-beat. "A meet and greet with who, Rant? Hugo, or Harvey? Both are two-faced. One I owe, the other… I have already called it even.." The champagne glass in her hand shatters beneath the curl of grip, shards falling to the flooring of sandstone and marble to give it a glisten like an oasis.

Turning she walks away from Fantomex, her head turning to address him but not look at him over the slope of shoulder. "All your time in New York and Gotham still effects you? We can handle it, though I do aadmit to missing out midnight outings…" reaching the stpes she watches the applicants that descend and make their way to the exits, her chin rising as theirs fall, or exchanging glares of 'challenge'. Gotham is an urban jungle, and who better to try to step up to the plate….?

"Every infamous person earns their rise and usurping. Their downfall is where they seek to aspire for rule. Gotham is one of them."


"Now, Rant. Get down here and dance with us. I know you can at least do the Funky Chicken, because you lie like the rest of us."

Fantomex has to wonder if Selina is not voice her own future with those words. Prophetic words that ring painful in Fantomex ears. "Well, mon chere. We have changed midnight outings for…" he raises his arms and turns around. "This lovely temple to games and cats, hmm?" Even if no one would ever want Fantomex anywhere close to a gaming table. Particularly not casino owners.

On the other hand. "Wasn't the lovely Melody taking dancing lessons not so long ago? At least she planned to do it. Oui, I distinctly remember we convinced her already."

"Harvey. I know that he would love to see the fruits of his delivery." Her jacket was shorn off and tossed upon the chair, shirt unbuttoned just enough to allow her breathing room, hair mussed as a wetnap was taken from the drawer to wipe the makeup off of her face. Which, also leaves a nice smear of eye-liner as if she were meant to do such.

She descends the stairs much to her chagrin, her teeth gritted as she gives a shake of her head. "No dancing." She was adamant about that, the best thing she could give them is a sway left and right, front to back. Maybe a flap of an arm..

Okay, it's the funky chicken.

"You make it seem as if the midnight outings would stop and will stop now that she has the Egyptian. Far as I'm concerned, everyone will have their extra curricular activities in the meanwhile." Even her.

Selina saw the look, that reflection and moment in Fantomex's eyes. Her own gaze returns her thoughts in silence. It almost seemed… Sad, a moment where there is a waver and then she looks away from him to the arrival of Rant that splits those lips into a cheshire grin, taking that flapping arm of her and spinning her to dip her back over her other arm and then sweep her into a dizzying spin that rounds in Selina behind Rant, her chin upon her friends shoulder as they look towards fantomex.

"Oui. You do seem to e assuming my life… As you knew it.. Is over. Sweet heart, mon voleur… You do not know what holds my heart then." A sway and she spins Rant away, fingertips slowly drifting apart in the motion as she grips another glass form the passing waiters tray, knocking it back.

"Everyone will see their /just desserts/ once these doors open and I can recalim my shadows." In saying as much she heads for the doors where she can exit this place and return to her own roots. The Tin Roof. Home.

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