Corinthian Water Club


evan_icon.gif nadira_icon.gif elle_icon.gif

Scene Title Corinthian Water Club
Synopsis Fine dining is interrupted by structural damage.
Date July 28, 2010

The Corinthian: Chambery Restaurant

Chambery is every bit as elegant as a French restaurant housed in the swanky Corinthian Hotel promises to be. The expansive venue is entered through a pair of mirrored French doors opposite each other, decorated in fresh white paint, and rich tones that give an impression of warmth. Gold is a backdrop for clusters of roses damask, red, and white, making up the plush carpet beneath the feet of chairs and diners both. White table clothes are draped over circular tables spaced about the room, each set for two with elegant glassware, more silverware than the average person knows what to do with, and a small silver-based lantern with a frosted half-globe encasing the flame.

Crystal chandeliers hang down, their flames providing further illumination to the room and dancing off of a canopy so perfect a white that it gives the illusion that the ceiling could be made of porcelain. Small, flat lights are dotted strategically amongst ornate moulding in the ceiling, giving a brighter splash to the room, affording the ambiance of a candle-lit room without the disadvantage of dimness.

Beige and warm tan create an elaborate patterned wallpaper, the negative space leaving one unsure of which is the dominant colour, beneath a banded frieze of white and gold. Candelabras further illume the space, settled into contrasting wood panelling that separates alternating panels of wallpaper and large, gilded mirrors. Above one such mirror is a beautiful painting of a woman with dark ringlets and eyes the colour of cobalt. The same woman can be found in another painting hung on one of the papered walls, dressed in an electric blue gown that would have been fashionable in the 1800's. Members of the Linderman Group who study the women depicted in the paintings may find her oddly familiar.

It's been a hell of a year so far for Evan. The common things, sure - implausible blizzards, all-too-plausible heat waves, mass blackouts - but also sidewalk riots, stray bullets, (allegedly) smarmy evangelists.

But there have been good times, too - a few of them here at the Corinthian - a certain dalliance up on the roof comes to mind, for one. Today, he's merely indulging in a visit to the high-scale restaurant, perusing the menu as he takes a break from the daily grind. He hopes.

For Nadira, the experience in New York hasn't been terribly long. So she's not had the priviledge of real, fine cuisine in New York yet. Now, she finds her way into the Corinthian Hotel's restaurant, soon gaining the honor of a seat and her eyes scanning the menu.

Since she's returned from Chicago a few days ago, Elle has not truly had a chance to rest. A whirlwind of completely random happenstance has kept the little Electrokinetic Company Agent quite busy. Today, she's decided to take some of her money, and get something fancy and delicious. Goodness knows she needs it.

Elle is dressed up rather nicely in a black dress this evening, though she sits at her table alone. A bottle of wine her companion, she quietly peers up at the chandeliers as she sips at the white wine. In fact, she wears a scowl, one arm hugged around her midsection.

Not everyone is here alone, though. There are business colleagues taking advantage of expense accounts, there are married couples— and one couple off in the back corner who look entirely the wrong ages to be a married couple. At least the balding gentleman has enough of a semblance of taste not to be loud and raucous on top of it.

Deciding to stick with an appetizer - his budget isn't in great shape, otherwise he might do this more often - Evan sets the menu aside and glances around, attention momentarily drawn to Elle. "Not a car crash, I hope?"

Nadira's eyes remain mostly on the menu for a long while before she orders a full-course meal, some of the finest. She glances at the empty spot across from her at the table before her own gaze shifts around the room, noting both Evan and Elle, who seem to be solo diners as well. She, however, doesn't speak.

Elle's brows raise as she hears a voice. Talking to her? She nods quietly to the waiter as he brings out her appetizer, before turning to peer quietly at Evan, spearing one of the stuffed mushrooms with a fork. "What?" Someone is in a foul mood, it seems. The petite blonde frowns, before popping the mushroom into her mouth, chewing grumpily.

Evan offers a shrug, gesturing toward her other side. "Kind of looked like you'd been hurt there, that's all." He picks up on the I-don't-want-to-talk-to-people vibe easily enough; unless she speaks up again, his attention will wander elsewhere.

Back in the kitchen, one of the chefs frowns as something unexpectedly drips down onto a pan, looking up at the ceiling to spot a spreading discoloration. Must be something wrong with the plumbing - maybe leftover stress from the city's recent ice age, maybe aggravated by something going on in one of the upstairs rooms. Whatever it is, by the time he locates a larger container and brings it over, the stain is already spreading toward the doors leading out to the dining area. This is not good.

Nadira notes Elle's bitter answer, glancing back towards Evan to see his response, then back to Elle. At least something slightly interesting was going on. Her gaze falls back on her food, taking a moment to nibble on her own food.

Turning back to her wine, Elle scowls at the chandelier once more. Stupid stupid stupid. Why does she even think she could impress her father with her feats? Maybe she should go talk to Harper. Grumble, grumble, growl. Elle is blissfully unaware of the spreading stain, munching away at her stuffed mushrooms and drinking some of her cares away.

Evan glances over to his other side, this time spotting Nadira, who is… watching the two of them, apparently. It's all pretty self-referential. He considers a couple of different ways to break the impasse - until he, too, catches sight of whatever it is that's going on with the roof. Squints— and abruptly rises to his feet. "Well, crap." He knows just how close those panels are to giving way, for all the good it may do anyone.

Nadira notes Evan's sudden rising to his feet. Her gaze flickers around, trying to determine what it was that set him off. That's when she notices the panels above them and the stain. Oh. Crap is right. She stares for a moment, looking slightly uncomfortable.

With a roll of her big blue eyes, Elle turns around in her seat to say something biting and witty to Evan. Instead, she catches sight of that stain on the panels. Her brows raise, and suddenly, Elle is up and getting away from the stain, backing away. She doesn't seem to care that she's bumping tables. That's water. She hates water. Sure, showers are one thing. But that's…that's freakin' scary.

It's too late to patch anything up ahead of time; someone will have to bring in a repair and maintenance crew afterward. Instead, Evan turns his attention (and his ability) to the people instead: who's in the most danger from this thing? That would be Elle, actually - not that he has any idea why she'd be top of the list - but once he sees that she's already heading for safer ground on her own, he reaches over and grabs the arm of a young man wearing headphones. After a moment's confusion, he points toward the corner, and they both make a run for it— and then the ceiling finally gives way, water starting to pour into the restaurant gallons at a time—

Dammitdammitdammit! Nadira did not want to have to be in the middle of something like this. It's one thing for little tricks, slights of hand and the like, but full-blown ability usage? That she can't just do. However, she can direct it, control it. There's a moment of concentration, and the water slows, just slightly, and as it falls, it doesn't seem to quite hit anyone other than small droplets… nothing too dangerous, other than getting a few people's clothes soaked.

Elle is scooting away from the water as quickly as her high-heeled shoes will allow; in fact, she's outright running for the door. To hell with this, they can have their mediocre stuffed mushrooms and their wine and their ceilings that explode water. She so did not need this today!

Some of the other diners were close enough to spot the problem as well. The rest… well, once a certain number of people get up and run in the same direction, that's a pretty big hint that maybe you should do the same, even if you don't know why yet. With Nadira holding back the worst of the potential flooding, the crowd makes it outside safely - though a few of them realize afterward that they've left personal items behind. Evan, for his part, just hands over some bills to the nearest waiter and promptly stalks off toward the bar. If nothing else, it's closer to the street entrance.

Pushing the source of the water back, Nadira works to keep it at bay, or at least push it far enough back that it can be stopped for the time being, even if it still needs repairing. She moves out of the way, heading towards the bar, completely dry. Well, she made it out of there just fine.

Bar and Lounge

Situated on the uppermost floor of the building, the Corinthian Bar and Lounge boasts an arched ceiling whose many small, square panes of glass double as a huge skylight. Of course, the large and open room is also lit by a dozen half-dome chandeliers suspended from that double-height ceiling and several high wall sconces. Brass fixtures gleam in the warm light, while the room's scattered potted palms drink it in with their bladed foliage. A ring of doubled marble columns supports the weight of the skylight dome and defines the two sections of the room: that lofty open space in the center; the quieter, slightly darker and more private edges of the lounge.

The tables are elegant rectangles of fine black glass, the seating a mixture of russet-upholstered couches and comfortably-padded oaken chairs. Most of the floor is covered by carpet shaded in the reds and golds of autumn, save for a runner down the very center of the room which is colored the exact shade of purple found in wisteria blossoms. The bar food at the lounge is much like its decor: expensive and beautifully arranged; but unlike many such spendy places, it's also very good. So is the alcohol.

What would Evan have said to Nadira back at the restaurant if none of that had happened? Quite possibly nothing, or at least nothing of consequence - but he has something to say to her now: when he was looking around to see who was closest to being in real danger, he couldn't help but notice that she was all the way at the other end of the scale. And considering the size of those pipes, and the pressure needed to push the water supply all the way up to the top floors…

"That could have been a whole lot worse," he offers, nodding to her from a few stools down. It's an intentionally vague comment; she can play dumb if she wants. And it hedges his bets in case he's just reading too much into the situation.

"It certainly could have. This hotel is very lucky. So are the people." Nadira comments, moving over towards the bar itself. "Hope they get that fixed soon. They could have gotten into a lot of trouble. New Yorkers are fond of suing." She nods to the bartender. "Scotch. On the rocks."

Evan shakes his head, opting for a vodka himself. "For wet clothes and a cell phone or two? They can try— I bet the place has plenty enough money to steamroller whatever frivolous cases it gets." As Nadira takes her seat, he lowers his voice before continuing. "Thanks for playing good luck charm, yeah?"

Nadira's eyes narrow quietly, flickering to Evan with a curious glance. "I suppose some could have been frivolous, but with the water pressure in that, it easily could have injured someone if hit just right. They're very lucky. I'm surprised maintenance at a nice place like this didn't catch it sooner." She does glance to her glass of scotch as it arrives. "I don't know that I'm quite a good luck charm, but I suppose I'm the gambling type."

"Yeah, you'd think," Evan muses. "They replaced those right after the Endless Winter, too, if I remember right… Maybe the pipes were already weakened while they were still in storage? Talk about lawsuits, I'd hate to be the guy holding the bag on that one." Shit'll rolls downhill fast with that much money involved, hotel to contractor to supplier…

Nadira's other comment draws an arched brow, and he mulls it over longer before replying, taking the opportunity to reach for his glass and draw it closer. "This seems to be a good place for gambling, if you're clever enough. I've had a couple of good nights myself."

"I suppose. I'm not into it as much as I used to be. Gambling can be a bad habit. Pretty dangerous if you get caught up into it and can't quite get out. I suppose I still play, from time to time, if it's something interesting." Nadira studies Evan for a long moment, then sips from her scotch as if it were a glass of water.

Oh, the intrigue just keeps piling on, doesn't it? Maybe this evening isn't a bust after all. "Like I said," Evan replies, "if you're clever enough. So what interests you, then?" Does she mean the game itself, or the stakes? Maybe some of both.

Or perhaps she's speaking on something else entirely. Nadira smirks, just slightly, and rests her chin in her fingertips, elbow on the bar. "Well, I'd have to say it varies. The games and stakes can be unpredictable… and so can I. It can vary from night to night. I like to keep things fresh."

She would have to play the 'mysterious' card. And here's Evan, without the ability to read minds; it would be so useful right about now… "They do have some blackjack tables not far from here," he suggests, fishing shamelessly: even if she expresses disinterest, it will still tell him something at least.

"Blackjack… interesting choice of games. Can't say I'm a fan. Poker's more my thing. Poker involves people. I like people more than the cards. People are the real games of chance. Can't just count people like you can count cards to win at things like Blackjack." Nadira sips her scotch, eyes looking intently at Evan. "What about you?"

Evan turns and leans more or less directly back against the bar, working his way through the vodka more slowly. "I like poker fine, but it's not much of a casino game, is it? I mean, you're playing the exact same thing you could play with some friends on your own, only now the house gets a ten percent cut of every pot. And people wonder where all the gold fixtures come from…"

"Ah, but that assumes you're in it for the money. If you're in it for the money, poker's not the way to go. Plenty of other games of chance with higher odds." Nadira sits, facing him, one arm resting against the bar. "Trust me. You can take far more from a game of poker than you could roulette or blackjack. Money's just for starters. You much for people watching, Mister…?" She trails off, waiting for a name to fill in.

"Langford. If they're the right people." With the drinks nearly finished, he turns back around and prepares to settle up with the barkeep. "Why don't we go play a few rounds and you can show me? Sounds like you take a more creative approach than I'm used to." Favorably so, judging from his tone.

"I'd say creativity is my middle name, but I'm no liar." Nadira's gaze shifts about the room before she takes another long swallow of scotch. "Not sure I feel game to actually playing. I could be your good luck charm, though, since you seem to think I'm such." A pause. "Personally, it's just as good to watch from a distance."

Evan considers the idea, then nods, easing back up to his feet again. "Sounds good to me— but you have to buy my next round if I get wiped out, all right?" Technically, he can afford to lose a bit today, even if it means an awful lot of reheated noodles over the next few weeks.

"You won't lose. Might not win in quite the way you might think, but I guarantee, you won't lose." Nadira smiles, charmingly, swallowing the rest of the scotch before pushing the glass towards the bartender, giving a polite and respectful nod… as well as leaving a generous tip.

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