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Post by John Blake on Nov 6, 2014 23:11:01 GMT
(June 12th, open to all.)
"Batman returns to Gotham"
"Joker runs Gotham Underground"
"Sal Maroni says he's not worried about Falcone's new business."
"I hate bad news." Dick, John, whoever dipped his head to the ground as his eyes moved from his paper to a coffee cup. Looked like it had cooled down enough. He was at a Starbucks in the center of Gotham, resting his mind by reading the paper in front of him. He sighed, folding the paper and finally turning his attention to the croissant which had been casually ignored by the young man. He was still nursing a bruised rib so twisting to get his coffee wasn't helping. He just reached out a hand, winced and pulled back.
Sipping the pumpkin latte (to which he would NOT admit was a pumpkin latte if anyone asked) he turned his eyes to the streets. He felt ashamed but he had gone to this particular Starbucks in the rich part of town so he didn't see any crime.
He just wasn't in the damn mood.
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Post by Remy LeBeau "Gambit" on Nov 7, 2014 1:40:11 GMT
Sleep was for the elderly and the unsuccessful. Or so was Remy's excuse for his sleeplessness. He sauntered into the Starbucks, eyes scanning the well endowed pockets of the Gotham elite lazily. Places like these were the talent thief's equivalent of a bank - pick your target, withdraw wallet. Easy pickings this time of the morning, and a good place to get cash for those in need; which he was. He'd spent the last of his on the flowers sitting on Selina's windowsill from the fire escape, a little 'Sorry I lost that set of pearls you wanted dodging annoying heroic assholes' gift to smooth things as much as possible before he headed over. He shouldn't have made as many bold claims as he could about getting the damned thing - it had been on display, and when she'd issued the challenge he'd been unable to resist.
By his estimations she'd be arriving home just about now, and while he'd managed to pluck set off diamond earrings from an idiotic salesman, Selina was always more of an Audrey Hepburn than a Marilyn Monroe. Rock did not beat pearl.
Weaving his way through the caffeine deficient zombies, he hitched his step, staggering and lightly bumping into a middle aged woman crowded near the hand-off counter.
"Mon dieu, so sorry, Miss," he purred, flashing a dashing smile and placing a deft hand on her arm. "I must 'ave slipped - dey really ought tah clean dis floor, no?"
Laying the accent on thicker than it was, it was as timeless a ploy as it was effective on the excitement starved house wives of America. While this one had the puckered lipped look of someone who spent their days dining on lemon rinds, she dissolved into agreement with him, casting the barrista an ugly look of reproach, assuring him she was fine. As if he were even mildly concerned.
"Chu 'ave a good day now, you," he tilted his head, and she laughed flightily and waved like a school girl as he joined the other line up. She plucked up her drink and hurried out hastily, Remy grinning and watching the hen scatter as he pulled out a cigarette, tucking it behind his ear before opening the woman's wallet, examining the pickings. He tugged out the hundred dollars in bills, slid the rest of the leather away in his jacket. He ordered Selina a mocha, extra espresso and whipped cream, figuring it was better to heir on the indulgent side, and tipped the girl generously. He moved back over to the hand-off counter, drumming his fingers on the counter soundlessly under the noise of the crowd.
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Post by John Blake on Nov 7, 2014 3:02:36 GMT
Ugh I don't have time for this shit.
A rich neighborhood. A hot cut of coffee and a croissant. They were calling his name and it wasn't fair that Remy was trying to effectively ruin his afternoon. His head tilted to the side, sneering as he looked at the thief. Was he thieving? Probably. WITH Selina? Probably as well. He groaned, slapped a cap on the cup he was hoping to slowly enjoy and looked over towards the thief.
Should he rise? Or stay where he was? There was no way Selina's new beau hadn't seen him...
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Post by Remy LeBeau "Gambit" on Nov 12, 2014 6:41:43 GMT
While the Cajun had been blissfully unaware of the vague acquaintance - picking out targets generally meant mindlessly sorting through those who looked like they had a clue - his eyes fell on Blake as he slammed a lid on his cup, the fast motion drawing his bored gaze. The look on Remy's face was as if Christmas has come early.
The one Selina had been determined to avoid, stiff backed, stuffy, hard line authority type.
Had there been an introduction? Remy had been so preoccupied chasing Selina the man had gone from his mind.
One thing was sure - Remy didn't like him.
And knowing the other man didn't like him in return made it just that much easier. Remy flashed a smile at the girl as she handed him the drink, pulling out the wallet again deliberately, pulling out the drivers license and examining it, pushing his lips together and nodding as he examined it deliberately. Shrugging, he dropped it onto the counter, tossing the feminine wallet up and catching it several times as he headed for the door.
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