meow.

Is that VALENTINA ZENERE I just saw? Never mind it’s just FELICIA HARDY also known as BLACK CAT. SHE is 22 and a ANTI-HERO with a SECRET identity. SHE is currently working as a/an SOCIALITE. (Rosalie, 18+, she/her, gmt)

The woman was confident. Donna would give her that. Her energy drew the clubgoers in and it was electrifying. So, Donna let the energy infect her just a bit as she smiled out over the crowd from the booth.

“Who said I was talentless?” she asked with a raised eyebrow after taking the selfie. “Talents come in all forms.” Sure, she didn’t have a musical bone in her body, but Donna knew she had talents in other areas. Many of which included the arts of warfare, but her photography was gaining traction and… she could dance.

Felicia released the other woman after the flash of the camera and was about to turn back to her deck before she glanced over. "Yeah, but some are better than others." Felicia called out over the music as she pressed a few more buttons and played with some dials, two songs blending into the other. "So are you totally obsessed with me or do you always take pictures in the club?"

Felicia looked over to the person who seemed to have dropped some sort of pickup line to her. She adjusted the cat ear headphones as she stood behind the booth, not quite hearing what the person had said besides that glint in his eyes that she often wore when she wanted to get her own way. "I can't hear you. It is a club." She said over the music as she put the headphones around her neck as she looked over at him and gave him a look to ask him to repeat himself.

Felicia was one to attract attention. She was used to it and she sure had no issue using it to her advantage as well. That was what she was doing right now, watching a game of blackjack as she wrapped her manicured nails on the side of the table. Her eyes glanced around the table, casing for her next target. Her eyes settled as she noticed a player across from her, eyes glowing red almost. She did not shy away, her own icy eyes meeting his as her lips curved slowly into a smirk.

Donna was taking pictures for a new club in Harlem that were going to be used on their website to help promote the opening. She could definitely see Kori dragging her to a place like this. Dancing was something she loved, but she wasn’t a fan of the dense crowds for hours upon hours like at the nightclub scene. The dark light gave her a chance to work on her technique though and they offered a good price and free entry in the future. So, maybe she would get to go here with Kori for a girl’s night after all.

Throughout the night various people caught the lens of her camera, but Donna would admit that the DJ was mesmerizing. The blonde kept the crowd going nonstop. She angled her camera in that direction and took a few pictures before she realized that she’d been noticed. With a smile, she approached the booth and came up beside the woman. “You are quite talented,” she shouted over the music, letting it sway her slightly to its rhythm. “Do you mind if I take pictures up here?”

\

Felicia would pretend that she didn’t spot the raven haired beauty watching her behind the turntables but she wasn’t so bashful. If anything, she was far beyond it. If her manner of dress didn’t say that, the way her cobalt eyes stayed locked with the warm woman’s across the room. Felicia had discovered she had this odd talent of making you feel like you were the only person in the room. That she was the only person in the room, even with all the bodies around them. It was just confidence. Confidence fooled pretty much everyone

As the woman approached and climbed up to the booth, Felicia looked over at her. “No room for the talentless up here.” She called out, adjusting the cat-eared headphones (part of her gimmick) so she could hear the other woman. She put the tip of her vape pen to her mouth as she spoke, letting out a fruit scented cloud of vapour around the pair. “You want a picture?” Felicia angled the camera to face them like a selfie. “To remember the best night of your life baby!” She hollered as she stuck her tongue out defiantly next to the woman’s face.

Felicia lounged on her couch, her eyes casting around her penthouse apartment. It looked barely lived in and that was because it wasn't. It resembled a hotel suite. It was like something you would see in a tv show about rich spoiled teenagers with very dramatic lives. Very Upper East Side. Felicia was from Flushing originally and people from Flushing were never without their taste for the finer things in life.

Hearing her door ring, Felicia huffed and sat up from her couch, tightening the silk robe around her, stepping over her cat (a little on the nose, right?) She folded her arms as she looked at the screen that displayed whoever was on the other side of the door. "Whatever it is can you leave it at the door please?" She said through the intercom.

Clubs were not Tim’s thing. Even when undercover, he preferred to avoid them. But a networking opportunity was a networking opportunity, at the end of the day, and there were cases to solve and contacts to be established.

Alvin Draper, young art thief, was probably someone who enjoyed scenes such as this, though, so here he was. He already wanted to find a hole to crawl into and never be found. At least this place didn’t have too many flashing lights and loud music. It was a little more high-end. It wasn’t too different from being strong-armed by the Drakes into attending galas where he was toted around like some doll to show off. Except this time he wasn’t a doll, and was doing all the charming smiles and asking all the right questions all by himself.

A familiar song and dance, by now. This time will be no different. He brushes past the bouncers easily enough — his fake ID might as well be authentic with the work he’s put into it — and he’s making his way towards the central bar in order to have a decent view of his surroundings.

He knows exactly what kind of people actually frequent this place. But he has to play his cards right, or this’ll all be a bust. Mask or no.

Alvin smoothly slides into a stool close (but not directly next) to one of the younger socialites that frequented this place, and waits. Orders himself a drink, puts forth the purposeful energy of someone new that was going to act like they belonged until they did. That’s what Alvin does, after all. Fake it ‘till you make it, or not at all.

“Perfect night to stay indoors,” a passive comment, not exactly directed to anyone, and a typical conversation starter. No one actually likes to talk about the weather, yet they do it anyways.

Felicia Hardy was what the tabloids called a party animal. She was always in one picture or another, stumbling out of a car or a nightclub, clinging onto friends with similar wealth, or acting like some sort of accessory to a less-than-favorable guy who was probably suspected of some crime. To do what she did, you had to have discipline. No, we aren't talking about partying.

You had to be able to position yourself around people convincingly. You couldn't be smart enough that they cottoned on. You had to play stupid and playing stupid was really hard. You couldn't dumb it down to the point of being unbelievable. Then you would be caught. No, you had to be ditzy enough to seem blase without seeming like a poor attempt at comedy.

You also had to dress the part. This was the easiest because Felicia loved getting dressed up and she was the kind of girl who just knew it in her bones that she looked good. She didn't have the be the prettiest. She just had to have the confidence that she was. It did a lot. Take tonight for instance, the slip of a blue dress that was dangerously sheer and dangerously short with slits on either side that almost reached her hips. The kind of dress that did two things; brought trouble and made people think you perhaps relied on your physical assets because you didn't have much else other than money and looks. She could almost laugh in their fast sometimes as she twirled a lock of hair around her index finger and giggled 'what's that?' to the most simple of things. They didn't know they were going to be in some sort of financial ruin once she was done.

Tonight was one of those nights as she danced against the bar and held her fingers up for three more shots. She heard the voice next to her as she glanced at him through sharp winged eyeliner. A Felicia staple. "It is always summer inside, baby!" She said over the music before her eyes narrowed. "Baby, you are in a club. No one cares about the weather." She looked him up and down before her eyebrow quirked. "First time?"

Felicia Hardy was a party girl. Who would have thought it? She portrayed the perfect cover. She was a socialite with too much money, hanging out with the wrong crowds, and had an old money name. Known for doing nothing. It provided her the perfect cover story. The unbreakable alibi. How could someone as airheaded and always on camera be a thief? Why would someone like Felicia be a thief? Of course, her father was and that was a scandal but that was being judgemental.

Felicia also enjoyed being a DJ. She loved to party and they did call her Party Hardy. She loved being the one responsible for people just losing their minds. It also made a great way for her to stay in the public eye, making her alibi while also casing conversations of potential hits for her costumed alter ego.

Felicia's eyes lifted from the deck to spot a woman with a camera on her. Felicia didn't stop dancing behind the booth. If anything, her cobalt eyes locked onto the woman's, holding her gaze as she kept moving, seeing if she would dare approach the master of the dancefloor tonight.