new years eve party! ota

[the_caped_crusader]

WHO: Everybody!
WHERE: De Chima Grand Hotel (and the entire block around it)
WHEN: December 31st, 2017
WHAT: New Years Eve Bash!
WARNINGS: Drinking, partying, etc.



[De Chima's Grand Hotel is the city's most luxurious and expensive hotel, mirroring the sophistication and art-forward nature of the neighborhood that surrounds it. The space inside is an electic mix of cast-iron detailing and majestic masonry columns, all of which create a leap from the street outside to the accomodations inside. Bruce rented the entire hotel months in advance, wanting to make a gesture to imPorts and native citizens for all of the turmoil they endured over the past year. Now, instead, they could all come together and celebrate their entry into a new year, and hopefully, better circumstances.

The hotel leads party-goers up the iron wrought grand stair, hand painted silver leaf ceiling overhead, to equally beautiful hand painted elevator doors. It takes them all the way to the rooftop, a spacious outdoor oasis with unobstructed views to De Chima's own glittering New Years Eve ball. There's a premium open bar, with catered hors d'oeuvres and dessert stations. Festive hats, horns, and noisemakers are complimentary as well as Champagne at midnight.

Not to be outdone, Tony Stark has the entire street outside of the hotel set up with a DJ and the largest speaker setup anyone has ever seen, blasting an upbeat playlist of blood-pumping music. Woden is, unfortunately, uninvited from performing after the events of last month, his photo passed around to security and bouncers alike to remove him from performing. Unfortunately, Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo, who had planned on attending, is immediately removed from the premises by mistake. He can be heard screaming through his vocodor that there is some sort of mistake, but his cries go untended. As with the rooftop above, complimentary Champane and alcohol is served at ground level.

At midnight, the countdown begins to 2018, with a fireworks display the moment the ball drops at 12:00, a joint effort between both billionaires, and one of the few things the both of them could actually agree upon for the evening. HAPPY NEW YEARS EVERYONE AT MOM!]

Comments

[trouvaille]

There's a lot of people here,

( by way of objection, )

who are about to be really noisy, so -

( The longing look isn't over his shoulder (she can't see that high) so much as around the side of it, towards the door and stairs and sweet, sweet freedom.

She weighs approximately nothing soaking wet, though, so you don't even have to be Batman to steer her around without her say-so. )

[the_caped_crusader]

I know. [He agrees, gently appeasing her as he leads her towards the seat. Before they know it, they're sitting, and he lifts a hand towards one of the waiters.]

Here. [He plucks two tall highball glasses from the tray, and hands one to her. They're both water.] Have a drink with me and watch the fireworks. They were really expensive.

[trouvaille]

( Gwen makes a sound of protest which doesn't actually stop her from taking the water glass - if he's keeping score, she's 'enough to swing her feet into his lap when they sit down' drunk, sinking low and lazy into the sofa she has somehow (she's pretty sure this is his fault) found herself on.

The high heels were expensive, too. They're very nice. One heel is digging slightly into his thigh. )

Ha-a-a-a-ppy new year, Bruce.

[the_caped_crusader]

[A half sympathy smile. He helps her take off her shoes and sets them on the couch next to him.]

Happy new year, Gwen. [She might fall asleep here, and he'll get her a ride home, and for now he's stuck here sipping a glass of water as fireworks pop in the air above him.]

[trouvaille]

( She might, but not immediately; drinking her water, curling her toes. They were pink, a second ago, and now blue, and then pearl -

So she's back on her bullshit, power-wise. Someone who consumes this much alcohol should probably not have half the things she could do, but there's not really anything to do about that. )

Did you do anything for Christmas?

( Oh, no: smalltalk. )

[the_caped_crusader]

Mm. I went home. [He answers over the fireworks, looking her way.]

[trouvaille]

I thought you just borrowed your friend's fancy ring and fucked up the settings.

( A gesture to her face -

it's really unsettling when he is briefly holding his own feet in his lap, Gwen replaced by Bruce plus ten years. She's a good person, and doesn't hold it long - certainly not long enough for anyone to snap a picture.

That could've been a weird headline. )

[the_caped_crusader]

[He... stares for a long time. Was that him? Is that him? He can't tell. Can't remember it at all, looking like that. He's bothered by it, which is probably not her intention, but it's like looking into the face of a person who is simultaneously both him and not him.]

[trouvaille]

( It's not her actual intention, but having said that, it also doesn't appear to bother her when the illusion dissolves - or doesn't, precisely, so much as shift back into what it was a moment ago. He's never seen her actual face. )

So this is just your you now?

[the_caped_crusader]

[There's a soft hiss of air from his lips, and he turns his face away as his brow lowers into something more serious, his voice a little more genuine, but the change in inflection of which is a little difficult to tell over all the noise.]

Presumably.

[trouvaille]

( The tilt of her head is pitch-perfect dumb drunk socialite- )

Why?

( -but they've met, ever, and she's a lot of things but stupid isn't actually one of them, so this is perhaps in its way an out. He can give her a bullshit answer to what looks like a bullshit question and they don't actually have to talk about it.

Gwen prefers all her meaningful gestures to be made with full plausible deniability, just in case. )

[the_caped_crusader]

[He stays turned away, because the genuine bat-look on his face is one of disquiet. These are actual questions he has himself, though the larger implications of which she can't possibly have any idea.]

Good question.

[trouvaille]

( Gwen watches the fireworks, for a while.

Eventually: )

Sorry you're back in this shithole.

( HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY. )

[the_caped_crusader]

[He raises his glass of water gently.]

I'll drink to that. [He gives her ankle a little squeeze.] Come on, why don't we get you home.

[trouvaille]

Ugh, it's so far away-

( is a stupid complaint to make when she'd been trying to go home in the first place and now she's just being contrary because she doesn't like being managed, but still, she'd got comfortable, taken her shoes off, now she has to deal with getting all the way back to fucking Pennsylvania which is not, before she found herself here, a state of America she'd ever even thought about, much less considered living in.

It's probably too late to actually get a hotel in De Chima, on New Year's Eve - New Year's Day, now - of all nights. She'll go home. She'll sulk a little, but she was probably going to do that anyway. )

[the_caped_crusader]

Maurtia. Right. [That was far. Luckily, though...]

Come on. Up you go. [He takes her hand.] We'll get you a room here.

[trouvaille]

( Her feet go back into her heels, clattering on the rooftop floor, and she sways upright gripping his hand; she's had quite a lot of practise being this drunk, because 'making bad choices' is definitely what at least one of her middle names mean.

Not so drunk she can't think ahead: )

I can pay for it.

[the_caped_crusader]

I rented the hotel, Gwen. [The entire hotel.] Don't worry about it.

[He holds on to her hand tight, babying her towards the elevator. Luckily she's light as air to him, so keeping a hold on her is hardly a problem at all.]

[trouvaille]

Uh, you have the subtlety and restraint of someone throwing a brick through a window, I want you to know that.

( - but she's appeased, her objection being less a matter of pride or point-proving than the vague awareness that eventually when rich men keep buying you things, it starts to Look A Certain Way. Which is fine, if you're actually getting laid.

It's fine if it's just the whole hotel. Then it's not for her. )

[the_caped_crusader]

I'll take that as a compliment. But maybe try to shut up now, alright.

[Actually, renting the whole hotel was sort of for this very reason. A way of keeping people out of trouble after midnight. Always thinking two steps ahead, he is.]

[trouvaille]

( She thinks about that (not the part where Bruce possesses foresight and the resources to do something about it sensibly, the bit about keeping her smart mouth shut) watching numbers above the elevator- )

Alternately,

( dragging the word out, )

no.

[the_caped_crusader]

Hn. Alright. [He grunts, watching the numbers as well as they tick by FOREVER. God, he could just... put her to sleep. Just a quick pressure point. Right at the carotid artery. It wouldn't even hurt. But... that would be wrong.


How many floors did this stupid hotel have?]

[trouvaille]

( They end up waiting for the elevator in silence, anyway, because beyond sheer contrariness Gwen doesn't really have much else to say.

She'd probably have more smart remarks if she were sober, but she goes one of two ways when she's been drinking and if not seized upon a topic early, the other one is just - this: huge eyed, quiet, probably thinking about something illegal, it's just statistically likely. )

I want a room with a bathtub.

( Not for illegal purposes. )

[the_caped_crusader]

[He pinches between his eyes.]

It's a five star hotel, Gwen. They all have bathtubs.

[trouvaille]

( affably: )

That makes it easier, then.