Poison The Well

August 06, 2014: 'Quinn' and Selina have an "enlightening" encounter over some Galante's.

Diamond District, Gotham

A revamped warehouse.



  • Galante Gangsters
  • <Use same pattern for all npcs>

Mood Music:

The old warehouse has seen better days, it had served its purpose well in the seventies being a storehouse for an import/export group. But since then it's primarily been a tax shelter for several groups, serving to be rented out now and then for the occasional rave, function, or something shadier. The Gallante gang came by it when the owner was short on some payment, so now it serves as the occasional home of a few late night bookings, numbers games… and tonight it's apparently an illegal poker tournament with a fifty grand buy in and a million dollar prize.
The head of the operation for tonight's protectiong is Anthony Quinn, a dark+haired man wearing glasses, a turtleneck and with no weapon save a dagger that hangs from a leather holster upon his chest. Guards move around the room and the many tables as well as waitresses serving drinks.

It's hard to miss some things in the lighting within old warehouse walls, but she knows exactly how to make it work to her benefit. The dress she wears is kimono-esque, black, slitted up both sides to run high upon thighs, nearly to her hips, but the lacing that criss crosses to keep those dislocated flaps of fabric is silver, reflecting the pale lighting off of the metallic threadword. Embellishment starting as a criss crossing pattern of scales bleeds up and into a solidified dragon that weaves up and across, around her abdomen and torso to form into a semi-sheer backing against the skin beneath, but enough to blanket the scars beneath.
You know those scars, the ones you don't need to show because they reflect in the uptilted narrow of felinistic kohl lined eyes, the smile from them as cold as the hue, though the smiles the long dark haired woman receives are genuine, as well as the kisses on the cheeks in passing greeting, pausing to shake hands, her gloved hand withdrawing and when she turns to the dominant shadows that smile comes through teeth.

The night's been quiet, everyone at the tournament knows the Gallantes have been on edge since the murders started, it's reflected in the fact that they brought in some outside talent. That man across the way was one of them, this Quinn. From Atlantic City apparently and one of their top hitters. Gallante must be paying quite the pretty penny for this man's services to be on retainer. And there he is across the way, standing against the wall amongst some of the people mingling. He's not making conversation, instead he's keeping an eye out for those looking to cause trouble.
Naturally he almost instantly marks Selina.

They can bring in all the outside talent they want, Selina has a smile just for the Gallantes, and it is one that is arsenic and lace, pick your poison, either way it can and will choke you.

Weaving through the tables Selina pauses at a few and leans over the mens shoulders, a purposeful display as she does so, speaking in a thick Sicilian accent and departing with the typical mobster brush of lips to the cheek and some even get the formal opposing pat.

What brings a moment of pause is the sight of the new muscle, words exchanged in Sicilian with a Gallante at a table and she nods, the smile broadening as her pace changes, that stride on heels becoming one of a purposeful stalk, though her eyes lock with 'Quinn'.

Speaking in her nearness to him sealed with that light lean. "How do you like them? So refined, so determined…" The final words a whisper. "…So scared."

A soft sort of snort comes from him, probably for the benefit of any onlookers. Then this Quinn folds his arms over his chest and leans to the side to converse with her, she might recognize the voice even though there's a tinge of an accent to it as well as a different speech pattern. "People've got lots ta be scared about, some guy runnin' around twistin' heads all the way around. Makes folks nervous. S'why I'm here."
He lifts a hand slightly, waving to the side as if brushing off something she must have said or done, then he adds. "Waitin for the murderer to make his move and then gotta bring him in. Sort of my duty, render unto the Caesar of Gotham and all that." To a casual listener they might think he means Gallante as the Caesar of Gotham, but Selina will most likely know… he means the Bat.

As Quinn speaks her upper lip recoils, a flash of white teeth and an audible 'tsk' passes with a roll of her eyes, but the laugh that resounds for the show…

A finger taps her flute of a champagne glass, from that gloved digit a silver claw makes it ring out its chime, mixing with her laugh. Her glass hoists as eyes turn, a hip thrust to the side, a pose worthy of a model for that dress, even showing the ample amount of skin to get the precise amount of attention Selina wants. "To Junior, and his freedom once it comes. This too shall pass."

The accent and the words bring cheers and even more appraisal of the woman, but as she sips from her flute both dark brows go up and she is refocused on 'Quinn'. "Let it run its course.."

What's her angle?


The mighty Quinn doesn't join in on the toast, considering he has no glass. But he does affix Selina with his attention as she makes her voice heard to the crowd in general. He sweeps the area again with that glance, noting the various tensions of those at the tables, the deployment of the enforcers, the waitresses. He looks back to her and cocks an eyebrow. "If you have plans, Sel…" He gives her a wary glance, then looks back to the crowd. "I'd appreciate it if you held off on them. Then again that'd make entirely too much sense wouldn't it?"
At that he makes a small gesture to the side, just a short lift of fingers, then two pointing to the right. It's acknowledged by a man distant and across the way of the warehouse who is wearing an earpiece, he turns and seems to be speaking to nobody in particular. A few security changes being put into place, just in case.

"Plans?" Selina steps back once, her hand upon her chest as long black lashes bat like a moths wings set aflame, aghast by the mere… Nope, she is smiling again, sipping from her glass as her eyes flick from his hand and then to the other guards.

"I /love/ rubbing elbows with the mighty of East End. We have common interests." She lowers the glass and a single digit trails around the edge of the glass, no claws just a simple silent idle gesture.

"Do tell me you are not here just for /him./" Yes. She means the Bat.

A small chuckle slips from him, and it's almost as if he _almost_ breaks character. But then his face sours and he grimaces as he looks to the side, then he squints back at her. "Well you know me, always movin'." As he says this he waggles a pair of fingers as if signifying a bird flying off into the sky. "Thing is I got this sorta desire ta stay in one place. Figured if I was gonna do that then I kinda needed ta get the blessing of the big guy and all. He does sorta claim the whole rigamaroll."
Quinn then looks across the way and sees one man slam his hand down upon the table, starting to get up as he growls at one of the other players. A gesture from the head man sends one of the enforcers over to deal with the matter… luckily he's able to with just a few words.
Looking back to Selina he says, "This whole thing may become my sort of… thing." He tells her this as he tries to relate to her a few developments in his life. He doesn't mean this thing, as in the guarding a game. He means the whole vigilante thing, the whole connection to the bat family thing. Maybe she can read that, maybe not.

"So you're kissing ass?" Point blunt, Selina's smile settles to something different, almost as if she would genuinely laugh while she drained her champagne and as a waitress passed with a tray hefted on her shoulder she swiftly exchanged glasses, for a full one. A gesture almost easily unseen in its -fleet of hand- trick that Selina prides herself on.

"You're talking like an idiot.. Like…" Selina pauses and casts a sidelong glance his way, the statuesque pause there unreadable and it seemed as if she had become a painting until she blinks.

"Oh, hell no. Who is she?"

Affixing Selina with a look that would strike her down instantly and leave her dead and/or in pieces if he had the power to do so, Quinn glowers at her. Yet it's a glower… where his eyes dance with laughter he daren't utter. So instead he just shakes his head as he looks to the side. "I know, I know. I'm a sucker." And that simple phrase there might be enough to have her narrow it down. He's doing a favor for the Bat, trying to establish his place… yeah.
"Don't go gettin' all jealous." He says that as if it were the gospel's own truth, though that hidden laughter grows a touch and he's forced to look down as he pulls off his glasses and rubs at his eyes before sliding them back into place.

"No, you're a fool." Selina says as much with a smile that never reaches her eyes, leaning against the wall for a moment, though her stance shifts, she does not intend to stay there too much longer, as the woman of the night needs to go forth and mingle. His glare gets no reaction, Selina knows better, knows -him-, and is very confident in her poise there. Even with her mask.

"Jealous? I take what I want. I have enough on my plate and I sure as hell do not need /his/ permission." Though with those words there is a smile the Dragon has likely never seen on the womans face before, it's dangerous in more ways then one. Therein lies emotion.

"If you'll excuse me…"

She states, pushing from the wall with her glass in hand, emptied again and in that speedy fashion another exchange is made, empty for full, the waitress continuing on by as Selina weaves through tables, leaning down to say her goodbyes in the same manner of which she entered. Shake hands, kiss babies….

Poison the well.

As she is making her way for the exit one Galante in the corner is being nudged in his drunken slump… But is not waking.

On the one hand there's a faint instinct of Quinn's to go after her, to make a show of putting the two and two together and busting up some sort of scene to make it show that his presence is worth the money. But then again this isn't a situation where one wants to put a cat in the corner, so to speak.
So he's slow to react, perhaps not noticing at first, not responding to the first few signs of an emergency. It's perhaps just enough of an opening for her to make her departure before the men start to move, the sounds of alarm and fear start to go up.
Quinn steps forward to speak to his subordinates and gets them seeing to the sick people even as he starts to jog towards the door in 'pursuit'. If he espies her he'll follow, but she has enough chance to get away… unless, of course, she wants him to follow.

Like flies, one Galante, two Galante, three Galante…


Alarm is risen, but more people are pushing past her as she is exiting, the 'sicilian' woman who toasts Junior an easy oversight for now, though 'Quinn' knows better.

'Quinn' is letting her slip through their alarms and their fingers, and like a panther in the shadows she is pushing past that rushing wave and out the door unnoticed as she prefers to be. Quinn is allowed to reach the door in time, she makes sure of it, Selina stands only ten feet away in that vacant lot, the rain cascading down and ruining such a fine silk brockade dress, in her hand the whip clutched behind her in both hands, the tail end of it swinging with droplets dangling from the ends like serrated beads.

"Even now you let your feelings get in the way. As they lay dying and dead, you let me pass. Will she do the same for you? Will you let it happen again?" Selina's head lowers, those long strands of the wig slickened and hanging like dead tentacles around her pale facade, reaching up to rip it off.

"Beware of those of us who wear the masks…" For a moment her voice sounds distant. "And when you gaze long into an abyss…It's not safe here.."

The whip cracks out and yanks her form up and out of the lot onto the roof and out of sight just as a few of those others plunge out in their desparate hunt…

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