Masquerade Ball I


adam_icon.gif deckard_icon.gif huruma_icon.gif kain_icon.gif kaydence_icon.gifpaul_icon.gif ygraine_icon.gif zoe_icon.gif

Also Featuring:


Scene Title Masquerade Ball I
Synopsis Leaving Kain Zarek in charge of the Masquerade Ballroom may not have been the wisest idea, but at least only he got hurt.
Date October 28, 2008

Linderman Building: Ballroom

It isn't terribly often that the ballroom of the Linderman Building sees formal use, but it certainly is serving its purpose tonight. Unlike most other rooms in the building, the ballroom is meant to be breathtaking.

And it didn't disappoint.

The floors are a chessboard of polished and shining white and black marble squares and the walls have been covered now by dark tapestries of red and black, draping in such a way as to suggest they could be hiding something besides the usually warm gold and silver paint. Hanging from the ceiling and protruding from the walls, the light fixtures are decidedly gothic affairs of wrought iron and faux candles, realistic in their appearance, flickering ominously and providing very little in the way of illumination. The ceiling has been painted to depict the night sky, a deep indigo with shady grey clouds and a silvery moon, with hundreds of tiny lights that twinkle in a way that would normally be cheery or serene, but tonight only seems grim and almost foreboding.

Much like the rest of the premises, the ballroom has been covered in cobwebs and if one looks closely enough, they may spot the bats hanging from the light fixtures. It can be assumed they are only simulated, but it sure looks like they're breathing and… watching.

"…an' then Ah' told 'em, no, you bend over!" A cocksure swaggering gait carries Kain Zarek and his two dates across the floor of the ballroom. Unlike most of the guests for the ball, Zarek has forsaken costume attire, dressed in a slick pinstripe suit and a tasteful powder blue undershirt, he's even kept his tie for the evening. The only touch of anything fanciful about his attire is a jauntily angled fedora capping his head, like some kind of roaring twenties mobster. The women on each arm both giggle in unison, stiletto heels and matching black and purple vampiress outfits giving them a seductive appearance. Each one donned in pale blue tights with dark bat patterns printed on it.

"Now ladies, why don'cha go an' get yourselves somethin' t'drink while Ah' go check up with mah fine bolt-necked friend for a moment." For once, Kain isn't being a jackass about his partner Manny. The seven foot tall man is looming by the ballroom entrance in a black suit with platform boots elevating him to nearly eight feet in height. His skin is painted an olive green color, with a mop of a black wig flattened down against his brow, two lugnuts affixed to his neck. Kain gives a slap on the behinds to his little Lilith and Morrigan, craning his neck to the side to scan the crowd of costumed ne'er-do-wells. "Ah' gotta hand it to Danny, bastard sure knows how to throw a party…"

Clad almost completely in black and decorated with spikes, the next arrival's costume might not be widely recognised, but she enters with some degree of wary leeway given to her by nearby guests. Pausing none too far from Frankenstein's monster and his associate, Ygraine peers around the hall, stark mask impassively concealing whatever expression might be prompted by the decorations or those in attendance.

Standing in front of Manny is Flint Deckard. He's eyeing Frankenstein's monster a little warily from behind the plain black of his half-mask, blue eyes turned up…and up…and up after the big guy's skull. Scruffy as it ever is, Flint's head looks a little weird sticking out of a tuxedo. There is no mistaking his identity, anyway, for anyone who's had time to get a decent look at him. "What are you going to do if someone runs in here with a bomb? Throw one of your boots at them?"

"I was thinkin' of throwing you in front of 'em." Manny quips, giving a broad, toothy grin as he peers down at Deckard. Kain's swaggering approach behind Deckard goes mostly unheard over the sounds of the dozens of other dancers on the floor and the music playing. It's only Manny's knowing smile and the hand slapped on Flint's shoulder from behind that gives him away.

"Well if it ain't mah favorite new friend." Kain's hand squeezes the shoulder a little tightr, just enough to be uncomfortable as he tilts his head to the side, one eye peering from beneath the brim of his fedora. "Now Ah do believe it's gone an dbeen forty-eight hours, an you just done gone an' shown right up in a suit fit for a coffin. Ain't that just cordial of ya?" Manny shrugs both of his shoulders to Deckard.

"It is quite a confounding situation you find you'self in Mista' Decka'd." Manny's thick New York accent only gives his Frankenstein appearance a more bizarre juxtaposition. "Mista' Zarek is a reasonable sort. Per'aps this is why you's come to this little swarre Mista' Decka'd?" Kain shoots a stare up, up and up towards Manny.

"…Swarre?" One dark brow disappears beneath the brim of his fedora, and Kain just gapes up at the green-painted muscle.

Manny purses his lips, staring down levelly at Kain. "It's a wor — "

"Manny just shut up." Kain strains, interjecting over the bodyguard, moving his hand from Deckard's shoulder to cover his face, shaking his head slowly.

Ygraine can't help but have her gaze return to the startlingly impressive Monster by the door… and cocks her head somewhat as the scruffy-looking man in the apparently-lazy costume seems to get introduced to him. Or something. Still, best not to stare too obviously… she moves further into the room.

It is almost as if the next figure through the door stepped straight out of a leopard print; a tightly wound dress, flared at the bottom and back, with the dottings of rosettes along the back and sides as they taper towards a cream colored front. The paint that is splashed on what skin is not covered by this dress, the tall, golden shoes, or the claw-tipped gloves is toned similarly. Gold jewelry hangs elaborately over the tall, curved woman's neck, arms, and ankles, accents of red jewels shining from them. On her face is a full mask of a strange golden copper, with blood red lips, and more rosettes dotting the sides of its features; from that mask comes what some may very well deem a headdress, furry and feathery plumes going up- and down again to tickle at the start of the dress train that seems to form the illusion of a tail.

"That might work if he had a bomb that only exploded in one direction." Nose wrinkled, Flint starts to rock up onto his toes, maybe to see just how high he can get (comparitively) when Kain's hand clamps down on his shoulder. His heels thunk back to solid ground again, and his jaw sets. He doesn't have to turn around to guess who. The accent is a little unmistakeable. "Wow. That was unintentionally considerate of me." Manny gets a hard look — the kind of look cranky terriers give seven-foot-tall pitbulls — and Flint turns his head enough to follow the rear of Ygraine and Huruma's respective entrances. Mostly just their rears. "You can tell your boss that I'll pay, but I'm not working for you."

Kain's eyes wander from Deckard as a feline silhouette stalks thorugh his peripheral vision. One brow stays raised beyond the brim of his fedora as he surveys the tall and leggy huntress making her way into the ballroom. "Now Ah' do declare," He says with an exaggeration of his usual drawl, "Manny I ain't never thought Ah'd see a woman who looks like she could eat Dixon for lunch." The irony is in the not knowing, "She might even have room for seconds Igor," He nudges Manny in the hip with his elbow, "Maybe you two could share?" A crooked and teasing smile crosses his face as he seems to have forgotten Deckard for a moment, spotting the spike bedecked woman across the way. "Damn, Ah'm gonna have t'give Danny a high-five for tonight."

Finally Kain looks back to Deckard, giving him a somewhat sour expression and a click of his tongue, "You drive a hard bargain there Doc," His head tilts to the side, "But Ah'll be happy to let ol Danny-boy know what's comin' his way." He pats Deckard on the shoulder, a bit distractedly, it seems his primary weakness is keeping him from being entirely business-minded tonight.

"Kain," Manny strains, "Rememba' what Dixon said." His green brows knit together, "Keep it in your pan — "

"I know what he said damnit." Kain snaps as he looks back over his shoulder, flailing one hand in Manny's direction. "Ah'm just feelin' out the guests is all. For security purposes." Manny gives Kain a stern stare at that comment, "Ah said feelin out damnit." Kain barks that over his shoulder, leaving Deckard for the sight of the face-painted bespiked guest across the ballroom.

Ygraine changes course to intercept a waiter, snaring a glass from his tray… only to hold it delicately between finger and thumb, gently turning it to and fro without lifting her mask to drink. She eyes the guests, expression hidden… and finds herself focusing upon Kain as he moves towards her.

For the record, the woman in the leopard prints and paint has quite a bit to be looking at as she saunters past and seems to slink into the crowd. The fact that the dress is hugging her curves only serves to accentuate the fact. Huruma is content for the first moments to simply be a feline ghost on the floor where mingling is being done; the actual ballroom floor is speckled with pairs of dancers, and she does watch them in passing as they spin their circles.

"He's going to get his dick bitten off," Flint mutters once Kain has wandered out of earshot, left hand lifted to brush irritably at his now unoccupied shoulder. His eyes follow the progress of K to H with distant distaste, this time on a marginally less perverse mission. The usual check for weapons and/or embarrassing accessories, which is then extended over onto Manny before he brushes past the big guy in search of free booze.

"That's pretty par for course." Manny agrees with a shake of his head and a shrug, nodding to Deckard as the tuxedo'd man slips past. But he pauses a moment afterwards, looking back, "Ey, Deckard…" His head angles to one side, "James Bond?" He asks in a quizzical tone, giving him a long, studious stare.

"Well hey there Miss Saigon," The fedora-clad security officer swaggers towards the masked guest, reaching out to snare a glass from the same server. Sure, he's not supposed to drink on the job, but it's just him and Manny in charge of the room right now, so what Mr.Linderman doesn't know doesn't hurt him. "Ah must say all them spikes are giving me a bit of cause for concern," He tilts his head to the side, circling halfway around the woman, examining the form-fitting attire while he takes a swig of the tall champagne glass. "So tell me, them pointy-bits all sharp, or is all that bristlin' just for show?" Both of Kain's brows raise as a broad smile cuts across his face, one hand dramaticly tipping his hat down to shadow his eyes, quite intentionally putting on a bit of a show there.

The spiked woman's expression is unreadable, though her eyes are certainly focused quite firmly upon Kain save for when he's directly behind her. She seems content to let him take his chance to study her (or her costume), inclining her head slightly when he returns to her front and asks his question.

"Oh, they're genuinely sharp", she says dryly, voice carrying hints of amusement and an accent from even further afield than Kain's own. "How about you? I'm afraid I can't quite place _exactly_ what your own costume is meant to be."

If you let a wild creature in your front door, they are bound to do something that you don't like. Huruma's somethings are so subtle, however, that the people that get them likely do not even realize. A dash of lust here, a pinch of anger there. When she passes by in faceless silence, the twinges of change she leaves in her wake don't quite make themselves apparent other than maybe a few slipped words assumed drunken, or even a departure by reason of uncertainty.

"The missing fifth ninja turtle." Flint turns back, fortunately not having to go far to swipe a fluted glass off a passing tray. "Good call on the green paint. If I had thought of that it would have been so much more obvious." Ignorant of the fact that whatever he's snatched is probably supposed to be sipped, he swallows it down and turns the empty glass over in his fingers. He opens his mouth to say something further then, but doesn't. His jaw juts, and he turns to check back after Kain's progress, if he can pick him out of the crowd.

Manny stares at Deckard for a moment, folding his enormous arms across his chest as he gives the wiry man a disapproving stare, like a parent would give to a child as he shakes his head. "You an' Mista' Zarek are two fuckin' peas in a really obnoxious pod." He says with a mutter, looking back to the other guests coming in, laying a meaty hand on one man's shoulder, "'Scuse me, sir. May I see inside your jacket?"

Kain's expression immediately drops into feigned shock as he holds out his hands to each side, "Ah'm a mobster," Comedy, thy name is Zarek. "Can'cha tell by mah dashin' hat?" He tips the fedora to one side with a touch of his finger, a broad smile spread across his stubbled face. "Now normally it's mah job t'pat down guests for security purposes, make sure they ain't carryin' concealed weapons…" His head slowly wavers from side to side, clicking his tongue once, "But Ah ain't thinkin' there's much that little ol' outfit leaves to conceal, darlin'." His eyes flit up to the eyeholes of the mask, "But one can never be too safe…" He says with a crooked grin.

Ygraine cocks her head, though her gaze now seems to mix amusement and scepticism. "I did warn that the spikes are sharp, as I recall", she observes mildly. "As for your costume… I was wondering if you were going for a sort of film noir look. But you're not _quite_ rumpled enough to be Bogart…"

As she passes one poor unfortunate soul, Huruma lets out a spine-tingling wave of envy; the woman proceeds to go up to one of the pairs on the floor to confront the woman dancing with who knows who- but it is a man. Huruma is content to keep moving through, only passing an expressionless glance towards the trio in their little fit of bickering.

"Hey. I didn't show up to a classy masquerade dressed as a pimp. That has to place me at least one tier above him." Manny's peek inside another dude's jacket is enough to pull Flint's attention back in his direction while he filters another drink out of a passing tray, with his already empty glass still held in his left hand. In public gatherings the wild Deckard is an opportunistic predator.

"A little before that time," Kain admits with a slightly smaller smile, edging to one side to look at the black-clad woman's silhouette. "But if you got a thing for Bogey, then Ah' could probably fake it." Shifting his weight to one foot, Kain waves the hand holding his champagne glass towards the ballroom floor, head canted to the side and an absolutely predatory smile spreads from ear to ear. "Now far be it from me t'put mahself in harm's way, given your bristlin' attire," He eyes the spikes running down the front of her skin-tight costume, "But maybe you an' Ah could continue this conversation out on the dance fl — " The sound of one hand smacking someone across the face halts Kain's speech, but for once it isn't him getting smacked.

On the ballroom floor, a woman dressed in a bright red leotard with purple stockings that have bat-print on them, stiletto heels, and a corset back where a pair of fake plastic bat-wings extend off has just backhanded a woman dressed as Marie Antoinette with a jagged red line across her neck in fake blood. "Son of a bitch," Kain murmurs, "That's what Ah' get for bringin' a hooker to a party." He begins storming towards the middle of the ballroom, and by now Marie Antoinette's date, a man dressed in a regal overcoat with lace at his throat has stepped over between the two women. The lavender-haired vampiress snarls angrily, spitting out a string of lurid profanity at the other woman, some of it was even in Spanish.

Underneath of that mask, Huruma's lips have curled into a smile of amusement. She floats like a silent phantasm on the edge of the minglers, across the dance floor to be able to watch her work continue. She keeps her pale eyes fixed on Kain as he approaches the women and the poor bystanding man.

What's that, miss hooker? Are you angry too? She is now, anyway.

Deckard perks up at the audible slap, attention oddly attuned to the sound of people bickering embarrassingly in the middle of a ballroom. Things are only bound to get better when Kain enters the mix, and he shoulders sideways through a stationary clump of people having a conversation about cheese to take up a position near Huruma and maaaybe Ygraine, if she's in the area. Close enough to see well, far enough away that he's out of range of any stray backhands. Somewhere along the way he's managed to lose a glass, so that he's left with just the one. "Ten bucks says the one not speaking Spanish loses an eye."

"Good evening," drawls an obviously Southern-influenced woman to Frankenstein at the door. She even smiles genuinely at him. Her blonde hair is pinned beneath her pinstriped fedora, with a few stray strands in front curled loosely to frame her pale face, her eyes hidden by a black mask and accentuated by drastically red lips. Her lean form is clad in a fitting pinstriped dress to match the hat atop her head, short sleeved cuffs and a low-cut collar are both a contrasting white with a high-waisted belt breaking up the button-down ensemble, which only closes to mid-thigh. Fishnet thigh-high stockings and a gun holster can be glimpsed now and then as the woman moves, brazen in showing herself to be armed. "Ah'm Bonnie Parker. Is that asshole Clyde Barrow in there?" She peers around the bouncer curiously. "Must be." Because some hooker's about ready to flip her shit. That's generally a good sign that Kain Zarke's about. She clicks one heel against the floor anxiously. It simply must be noted that the shoes are the crowning glory achievement of the entire ensemble. What appears to simply be a high-heeled twist on black shoes with white spats proves to be something more appropriate, as the spindly heel of each shoe is actually fashioned to look like brass knuckles.

"God Damnit Candy, get your skank ass the hell outta' the ballroom!" Kain grabs the fuming vampiress by her forearm, and she just wheels around, balling up her fist as anger inexplicably builds up in her and slugs Kain square in the face, sending him staggering back across the ballroom floor, knocking his hat clear off his head, one hand covering his mouth.

Manny, across the room, sighs deeply as he gently pushes a man he was conversing with aside, "Pardon me for a moment, I gots to muscle someone." His huge shoes clomp and stomp across the floor, making his way towards where Kain and his "date" are, eyeing the quite shocked Marie Antionette with one hairless brow raised. "Kain, can you please tell your date to pack it up and lay off the coke?"

A series of spanish curses roll off the woman's tongue as she flips Kain off, turning back around towards the woman just before Manny puts one of his enormous hands on her thin shoulders, yanking her back. She spins around, throwing a punch that connects with Manny's stomach, but he just frowns disapprovingly at her and grabs her hand, squeezing firmly. "That ain't nice."

Ygraine is among the large portion of the room's occupants now thoroughly caught by this unexpected bit of melodrama. Behind the mask, she's looking both shocked and amused - though she does wince and try to catch a glimpse of Kain's face to see quite how nastily he got struck.

A cat-like tilt of the head punctuates Huruma's observations. She has stopped piling foreign influence on the vampiress, but at this point the woman is inexplicably angry at what seems to be everything anyway. When she slugs Kain in the mouth, that is the icing on the cake. The leopard woman just a couple of steps from Flint swivels her face to look at him next, from his face to his glass, from his suit to his eyes. "I'll take the ten, unless you want to wager on whether Fedora keeps his head…" A slinking half step brings her closer to Deckard, the voice from behind the hollowed mask smooth and velvety- and in certain aspects, calculating.

"Ouch." Flint's brows lift behind his mask when Kain uses his face to stop the raging hooker's fist. "Nice moves." But, now that the busty beast's attention has turned to her own date, he's already reaching into his suit after a his billfold when Huruma offers to extend the bet. Sort of. Chilly eyes lifted to examine the face behind the mask, and then everything else in a quick down-and-up, Flint works his jaw…and hesitates. "Does he literally have to lose it, or have we moved on into metaphor?"

"Bonnie" goes scurrying on after Manny and reaches out to grab and restrain the flailing hooker expertly. "Hey. Hey. I'll give you a hundred dollar bill right here and now if you'll leave without anymore fighting. Okay? One hundred bucks. No fooling." The blonde clearly has formal training, even though the other woman is struggling and her hat skews sideways, but doesn't quite tip off yet. "Come on! Calm down!"

"You son of a bitch!" Kain growls out, removing his hand away from his face to reveal not only blood but a split lip. Rushing up to one side of him, the other sultry vampiress slinks over and lays a hand on his shoulder, pale geen hair falling down to either side of her face from her wig. "God damnit what the hell got up Candy's ass tonight?" If he weren't so livid he might find a crude joke in that, but right now Kain's too busy seeing red for that.

"Easy Kain, she's just — " The green-haired woman turns back to the other, "What the fuck, Candy? Jesus christ, just lay off alright!?" The lavender haired woman scowls, pointing back at Marie Antoionette who is already scattering to the other side of the ballroom with her date, around the same time Bonnie comes over and grabs her by the wrist, giving it a little twist which settles the vampiric hooker down on one knee.

"That bitch called me a — " Then, one hand is clamped down over her mouth, Manny wraps an arm around her thin neck, putting her in a headlock as he shakes his head and looks up to Kain.

"Hey there," Manny smiles amiably to the masked mobster, "You's off the clock right now, lemmie handle this little Ho." His words, unlike Kain's, are kept quiet enough not to disturb the clientelle. For a Gorilla, Manny has manners. He eyes the hooker in his headlock, squeezing for a moment to reassure to her that biting is only going to make it worse. "You may want ta check on Mista' Zarek, I think he's going to be downright cross after that." With a yank, Manny begins dragging the prostitute out of the ballroom as she continues to kick and struggle.

Kain turns to the other vampiress at his side, frowning, "You might wanna go make sure Manny doesn't break your sister's neck." He purses his lips and sighs, so much for that night after work. But as his eyes fall on the masked Bonnie, he starts to smile, only to wince and lay a hand on his split lip.

Violence, hookers, blood and bets - not exactly what Ygraine came here to find. It's memorable, but not conducive to a good mood… so Ygraine drifts bckwards through the crowd, moving away from the site of the contretemps to disappear from view in the throng.

While she has nothing under her costuming or mask of note, Huruma herself is another story completely. She could probably take on an army of those bat-hookers, no problem. Little white bitches got nothin'. "No matter how interesting literally may turn out to be…" Her sentence begins with a purr of consideration, pecking lightly into a drawl. "Metaphorically." And in the end, he keeps his cool. Too bad, because Huruma was thinking about helping her own cause otherwise. Instead, she simply looks back to Flint with a cock of her mask. "We're even, it seems." Under the mask, her lips curl into a smirk again.

Deckard has a pretty good poker face. Everything he sees is kept wisely to himself, past, perhaps, a faint edge of dismay to the furrow of his brow when he snugs his dolla dolla billz back into place. Even the women here are bigger and scarier than him. Honestly. "Too bad. I would have paid at least fifty bucks to see his head get ripped off by a cracked out hooker."

"Don't call her that," Bonnie demands, albeit quietly. But she resigns herself to letting Manny do it his way and she hurries over to Kain. "Hi there." The Southern creeps back into the woman's accent now. "Ah can't decide if you're workin' hard or hardly workin'."

Staggering, Kain looks up at 'Bonnie' with a frown, then winces immediately because expression hurt with a split lip. "Ah was jus' doin' mah job when that little shithead decided to up and bitch slap one of Danny's guests and try t'knock mah jaw off." His eyes scan the crowd, watching as Manny drags the woman out of the ballroom. "God damnit," he curses, applying his fingertips to his lips before looking back up to Bonnie. "Damn, though, ain't you a sight for sore everything's." Kain's head tilts to the side, then catches Deckard's stare from over Bonnie's shoulder, narrowing that gaze before peering back up at the masked mobster. "When'd you drag your ass down here?"

"Maybe tha'can perhaps b'arranged." Huruma's eyelids sink down as she turns her vision to Kain again. Her voice has also lost its carefulness, slipping back into a comfortable and foreign lilt.

"Really?" Tone taking a turn for the more sarcastic end of the spectrum, Flint sips delicately at his nearly-empty glass of champagne and continues to ogle Kain as unsubtly as possible across the dance floor. "Are you running a special on assassinations?"

"Not long ago," the moll assures the mobster. "Boss' orders, you know. Ah live to serve an' all that." Pale features flush a pale shade of pink. "Thanks. Ya don't look so bad yerself." She glances over her shoulder and then back at Kain. "'Nother problem?"

Kain snorts slightly at the question, though there is a hesitant — because of the wound — smile on his face at the comment. "Ain't a problem a sack a' concrete and a baseball bat can't fix." He mutters to himself, dabbing off his lips with his fingertips again. "Ah'm gonna go run out t'the little boy's room an' try to keep from drippin' all over Danny's floor. You wanna keep an eye on things till Magilla Gorilla gets back from tossin' out the trash?" Kain shakes his head, sighing rejectedly. It could've been such a wonderful night too.

"Not quite." White eyes fall onto Kain as well, now, but only for a moment until Huruma observes a passing pair of Venetians. "I am simply… a troublemaker." To put it gently.

"Me too." This could be the most normal conversation in the world for all Flint is bothered by it. He trades his empty glass for a full one and considers the dispersing knot of combatants in dull silence for a moment. "Want to set something on fire?"

King of Denmark enters the room from the foyer, the king is somewhat regal and well lit not dramatically so, but enough to bring attention to his uniform, and the star of david attached to it.

Huruma eyes the tray of drinks as it passes, briefly tempted to satisfy that particular thirst. However, she does not, and instead occupies herself with Flint because he does just happen to be there. "I coul'live wit'fire. Do'ou'ave a lighter…?" She purrs again, the echo behind the mask lengthening when Huruma adds a sensuous touch of laughter to her question. Fire is fine. There are lots of cobwebs to serve as starter blazes.

Zoe steps into the ballroom, champagne in hand, mask affixed firmly in place. Whether or not she's easily identified as the archive's curator is up to the individual, but tonight she's also Urania, Muse of Astronomy. Champagne in one gloved hand, she begins to circulate, saying hello to people and thanking them for coming like a good little hostess when, "What happened to your lip?" Zoe regards Kain as he passes, a smirk curving on her mouth as she wonders if maybe Dixon really DID do a fist-size-to-face-size comparison.

Kain's narrow-eyed look gets a flat, forced smile while Flint tucks his right hand into a trouser pocket to grope for his lighter. BYE, DAD. Nothing suspicious going on over here! Using his left hand to tip back to rest of his expensive alcohol, Flint flicks the lighter open and holds it casually out for Huruma to take, if she so desires. Meanwhile, perhaps because he's on his third round, his poker face is failing, and he's started to smirk.

King of Denmark makes his way further into the room, he watches the by play of the strange characters like a surreal painting, not sure what exactly is happening, he frowns a little, till he sees the Greek goddess has followed him, he then smiles and bows to her.

Eyes narrow behind the moll's dark mask and Bonnie Parker strides up to the lighter-toting pair. "Ah know ya'll aren't planning to smoke in here. And Ah really know that ya aren't thinkin' about startin' a blaze here. I'd really hate to have to call Manny over here."

"Crazy vampire hooker bitch decked me one." Kain mutters, nursing the split lip with one hand as he shoots a glance over the the young woman. He does pause for a moment, tilting his head to the side, "…Spooky?" It's the voice more so than anything else, he certainly doesn't see her dressed like this around the office, if she did he might actually go down to the archive more than just on assignment. "You look…" His eyes wander up and down, just visible beneath the brim of his fedora, "Like a lady for once." He's not thinking quite as straight and on his feet as usual, alcohol and a blow to the head do that to him. Then, realizing exactly what he just said, Kain shrinks back with a crooked smile, "Ahh… bathroom." He mutters, backpedaling for a moment before turning and heading out of the ballroom with one hand over his mouth, partly to cover his injury, partly to keep himself from saying anything else.

That little flicker of fire glints even past the eyeholes of her mask. With slender fingers she plucks it from Flint's hand when he holds it out; the woman clicks it shut again, eyes roving over the ballroom. They rest gently on the moll as she moves closer and speaks. "No, m'dear. He just… owes me." Huruma's voice drawls out, and her masked chin tilts upward. The plumes rising to and fro around her head, back and shoulders sway as her neck moves. "Dropped mine las'week, rrright down a storm drain…" She even laughs as she speaks again, with slow and deep chuckle.

Zoe's eyes narrow behind her mask. "I'm sure you had it coming." she mutters under her breath before she turns her attention to the man bowing to her. She gives him an affable smile and immediately follows that up with, "Thank you so much for attending Mr. Linderman's party. He's delighted to have you." It's pretty much what she's been saying to everyone, though the small gathering does distract her gaze.

"Good cover," says Flint in an undertone that makes only the laziest effort to become a private mutter. It's clearly audible to everyone within arm's reach, and not helped by the fact that he leans towards Huruma conspiratorially when he speaks again. "For a minute there I thought she was onto us."

King of Denmark smiles thinly and nods slightly, "Of course he is." He looks around a little and shrugs some, "you sound like you have been rehearsing the line for some time."

Back from depositing Kain's little strumpets in the back alley with a stern talking to, Frankenstein clomps with enormous boots and heavy footfalls into the ballroom again, scanning around with wide eyes. He snorts, derisively, one enormous hand straightening the black wig on his head before spotting the woman in sexy ganster affair. "Miss Bonnie," He strains, making his clomping way at near eight feet with his platform shoes, leaning over to rest a hand on the blonde's shoulder. Manny's head tips down, whispering into Bonnie's ear, and the woman leans back for a moment, looking up at him with a scrutinizing stare behind her mask.

"Alright, Ah'll go handle it." She murmurs, patting Manny on the shoulder as she starts heading for one of the side exits from the ballroom. Manny offers a quiet smile, then straightens up and claps his hands together, "Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention!" His voice is booming, thunderous and carries across the room. "Our gracious hosts will be arriving shortly to perform the judging of the costumes! If we could all clear the ballroom floor…" He gestures with one hand towards the spacious areas beyond, "Thank you for your attendance tonight." He's well spoken, for Frankenstein.

"It's part of the duties of hostessing, I'm afraid." Zoe informs the King cheerfully, but then hushes as Linderman is about to make his entrance. "Please excuse me?" she murmurs, and with that, begins to edge in the direction of Huruma and Deckard, though in an indirect fashion. Sort of like a crab. In terms of intention and direction, not waddling. Because that would be awkward.

Huruma smiles to herself, glancing down at Flint once more. "You'll get your wish b'fore the night is out…" Mark her, something will certainly go up in fire. He'll hear about it. But not now, as she is turning on a heel to slowly saunter away into the crowd. Stole your damn lighter, too. Burn.

"If you're granting wishes, can I revise mine?" Flint raises his voice a notch or so to carry after Huruma when she starts moving off without any real expectation that she'll answer. Or that she'll give his lighter back. He looks her over one last time, as if to exact some kind of personal revenge, and

Manny halts as he's turning away from the crowd, reaching up to place one hand at his ear. He gasps, loudly, then looks around at the crowd as if they all suddenly picked up torches and pitchforks. He turns, scanning the crowd, not spotting Bonnie, "Shit." He murmurs under his breath, looking panicked for a brief moment before slapping his hands together again, wandering out into the middle of the ballroom. "Ladies an' gentlemen," Manny anxiously looks around, this is Kain's job damnit. "The ah… costume contest gon' be delayed a little…" He glances from side to side, cursing Kain Zarek's name within for leaving him at the worst possible time. "We jus' ask you all stay here an' please, be patient…" He smiles, reassuringly, despite his heart lurching in his chest.

"Everythin's gon' just as planned."

This scene occurs concurrently with Masquerade Ball II and Masquerade Ball III.

October 28th: Creepy McCreepster
October 28th: Masquerade Ball II
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License