bitch

Dinah's shoulders rolled back, not wanting to stand down in such an overwhelming presence. Her eyes flitted to the man wincing from her hold and back to Mooney. She let out a breath when she said she would make an exception. The last thing she needed was to get on the wrong side of people. Seeing the man be carted away, Dinah's eyes followed and hoped it would just be as simple as tossing him out of the door. As Fish spoke about owing her a drink, Dinah shook her head and smiled politely. "Oh, don't worry. I'm just glad it didn't go any further." Her back straightened however when she asked if she was looking for work. "Yeah, I am. Not as security though." She admitted, wondering if that was the reason for the suggestion. "I'm a freelance singer. I perform across a couple of places in Gotham. I know Hypno has a preference for live music and thought I'd see what the place was like. See if there was an opportunity here." Dinah's fingers weaved together as she waited for Mooney's reaction. "I can put on a show. Not to sound arrogant but I know what to do up there."

The man would be handled. Handled until he wished he were never born, and long before then he would vanish from Fish's mind. Almost as soon as he was taken off, a drink was set in front of her. Her men knew how to keep her happy. "Pity, you have the skills," she drawled, picking up her glass. "And I do so love seeing a woman take down a man's ego." She smirked over the rim of her glass and took a long sip. She considered the proposal, leaning forward on the bar. "I'm always on the lookout for new talent. How about we start with one night, and see how it goes? Maybe I'll make you my regular girl. If you impress me some more."

Since Jeremiah had revealed what had happened to him, Ecco had felt simultaneously better and worse. He had been honest with her, finally, but he had also made it completely clear that he didn't need her anymore. Whatever Jerome had done to him, far from driving him insane, it had freed him of the anxiety she'd watched consume him for the past six years. She had felt out of place. Useless. So, she had decided to return to Fish Mooney. She just wanted to talk to her former boss, but it still felt incredibly disloyal to Jeremiah.

Leon wasn't her favorite bartender -- he had a tendency, like all men did, to be rash. Oh she didn't mind a little bloodshed where it was necessary, but his judgements left much to be desired. Fish's eyes roamed from Leon to Emma and back again. "All this over an old friend, Leon?" Her tone left no question as to her mood. Leon, wisely, said nothing. She snapped and he jumped to making her drink.

Ever since she and Edward had reunited at the train tracks, things had felt more settled. Isabella no longer spent listless hours alone -- now, she spent most of her evenings with Ed. She was choosing a bottle of wine for tonight, trying to remember his favourite, when a woman stepped out from behind the shelf.

Fish arched a brow. Studied the woman for any trace of a lie, but her confusion seemed genuine enough. She just didn't seem the deceitful type. Except maybe to herself. Because Fish did know this woman. She was convinced of it, and her convictions were not easily swayed. "My mistake," she purred, smoothing her hair. Her fingers paused by her blue eye, nails tapping against the skin. "You're pretty distinctive yourself, my dear. Or so I thought." She chuckled lowly. "Distinctive is one way of putting it. It's fine. It wasn't exactly my choice." She said the words pointedly, waited to see if they would elicit a response. "Doctors get carried away with their toys sometimes, don't they?"

"Nothing clears a room quite like a gun show." He drawled, "No, I suppose we can't have that. I've heard rumours about how you get when you're angry... interesting rumours. That thing you do with the butcher sounds especially entertaining... but I'm afraid I simply don't have time to witness your impeccable wrath. Maybe another night, hmn? I have an appointment I simply cannot miss." He said, taking a seat so there was a barstool between them and placing his gun on the bar top while he spoke to her. Jeremiah took out a black business card and placed it beside the gun before sliding it across the bar towards her. "My repair guy... ya'know. For the ceiling." He said pointing upwards. Fish began describing how loyal her bartender was and he placed a his chin in his hand in a near dreamy gesture, with one elbow on the bar. "Oh, I am." He finally replied, when she cited that he was cautious. "Most of your people are busy tonight, they're off picking up a shipment for you. I would have come later when the patrons were gone but like I said- I have an appointment. So I popped in a little earlier and removed all the potential prying eyes. As for the make-up... I didn't deem it necessary. I lied to you the last time we spoke, I want to be honest going forwards. So no masks, and no fake names. You can call me Jeremiah."

"Well, it's hard to argue with your logic," she drawled, rolling her eyes again. "Logic being a very loose term, but that's the usual for Gotham." She exhaled slowly, taking a sip of her drink. When he slipped the card on the table, she glanced at it. "Generous of you, really. But I suggest you heed your own advice and stop testing my temper and my patience," she said, clacking her nails pointedly on the bar. She arched a brow as he rattled off ways he'd planned to get around her defenses, like it was oh so simple, oh so obvious. "Aren't you the clever one," she mused. Her lip was pulled back in a snarl but she didn't bother to hide how impressed she was. It was a good plan. He'd executed it well. "I'll hear you out then. Since we're being honest, Jeremiah, you haven't really left me any choice." She took another sip of her drink, motioned for the bartender to make him one. "What is it you want to talk about? Usually someone with your level of theatrics doesn't have much of a plan in mind-- but something tells me you're different."

Jeremiah lifted his gun into the air and let out a couple of shots at the ceiling. The booming sound cut through the music, interrupting the classy energy of the club. The reaction was instantaneous, most scattered at the sound of it. Headed for the door like a flock of frightened chickens, practically tripping over themselves on the way out. "Alright, everyone out. That includes you braver souls... I need to speak to the boss." He said, slowly lowering his gun towards the bartender and cocking his head. His ginger hair falling out of place and over his paper white skin. When the bartender didn't move after his demand, Jeremiah weighed his options before shrugging his shoulders. "No? ...You'd rather die than get a little fresh air? ...Alright." He said, moving his finger to the trigger. He was about to pull it when Fish Mooney finally approached. "Ah! There you are. Hi, Fish. How about a drink? We didn't get to finish our little chat last time."

It took her only a second to recongize him. "Ahh. The underdressed Mr. Wilde. Didn't expect to see you again so soon -- and under such idiotic circumstances." Her irritation was palpable and she didn't bother to hide it. He was costing her money and putting holes in her ceiling. She arched a brow, arms crossed over her chest. "If you kill my bartender, Xander, I'm going to move from disappointed to angry. And you won't like the consequences of that, I promise you." She snapped, and the bartender, who had been wiping down glasses this whole time, began immediately preparing her signature drink. Once she had the cocktail in hand, she took a sip, peering at Jeremiah over her glass. "He's a loyal man. And no one makes a Manhattan quite like he does." She gave him a fond smile and then waved him off, taking a seat at the bar. "Now what exactly is all this about? I thought you were a cautious man, not a reckless fool. Did you forget your good sense along with your make-up?"

Dinah had always heard rumors about Hypno but, honestly, you only had to throw a stone in Gotham to find talk about something shady. Still, she didn't have vigilante activities on her mind tonight. If anything, she needed something that actually paid the bills. However, it seemed trouble would find her as she could hear the patron and the bartender have an altercation. Hearing the sound of glass shattering as the patron became handy, Dinah instinctively sprung up and twisted his arm behind his back and slammed his head against the bar as she held him in the lock. "Did no one ever teach you to keep your hands to yourself?" She asked, tugging his arm further up his back. Hearing a voice ask what was going on, Dinah released the man. "Sorry, he got a little too hands-on with the staff."

Fish wasn't one to make rash decisions. She stepped forward calmly, an almost bemused expression on her face. "Normally, I don't condone fighting on the premise. Unless I start the fight, of course," she drawled, dragging a long nail along her jaw in thought. She studied the woman, eyes flicking over to the man for just a moment as he stood there, wincing every time he moved his arm. "But I think in this case, I can make an exception." She pointed at the man and snapped her fingers. Two of her men walked up, grabbed him by the arms, and dragged him towards the back door. She waved a hand in the air, and the music began again. Everything taken care of, Fish turned back to the blonde woman. "I believe, darling, that I owe you a drink. I don't suppose you're looking for work?"

Koriand'r made her way around the crowd, wandering aimlessly as she searched for-- well, she was not sure what she was searching for. A friend to speak with, perhaps? Or maybe she was watching for trouble. She approached a server and took the fruitiest drink on the tray. The glass was tall and filled with a pink liquid. Strawberries and raspberries floated among the ice cubes. Koriand'r took a sip and grinned at the sweet taste with the hint of heat that followed. The girl moved to go through the crowd again but she tripped over the unusually long train of someone's gown and spilled her drink all over the person in front of her. "X'Hal's light, I apologize profusely, I am not usually so careless."

Fish held her arms out wide and stared down at the splash down the front of her gown. For a second, the anger was white-hot, flashing through her. She could've reached out and made this girl sorry, made her do anything -- but Fish wasn't an animal. She wasn't a man. She was classy. She was in control, always. "It's a big crowd, honey, accidents happen," she crooned, after only a second. "Besides," she drawled, picking up a napkin from a server who came over to help. "It's not the worst thing someone's ever done to me. I think I'll survive. What's your name?"

Lois glanced over at the woman as she spoke. She took in the woman’s unique appearance with a neutral expression -- she was a journalist, and journalists weren’t meant to react, just observe. Besides, in a town like Gotham, oddities abounded. She shrugged at her question. “Yeah, I guess,” she said, looking around the room. She’d never really been impressed by glitz and glamor, nor was she the type of person to really enjoy dressing up. She had, for tonight, because she was here for the Gotham Gazette and she wanted to show up nicely for the paper. Lois couldn’t help the snort that left her lips as the older woman spoke. “God knows that’s the truth,” she said. “Men in power usually make monumental messes, and then expect the rest of the world to turn a blind eye, while a smarter and more capable woman is tasked with cleaning it up. Not that she can really expect recognition for it, of course. Unless she demands the recognition that is so easily given to incompetent men.”

Fish turned around slowly. "Finally. Someone who understands, and speaks some sense of her own," she said, spreading her arms wide. A sharp smile -- dangerous, but not directed at this woman, spread across her face. "I've never seen a man in any kind of power without a stronger woman behind him doing all the hard work," she said, raising her glass in a mock toast. "All to be completely forgotten in the history books. Now me, I prefer not to be a footnote," she declared, holding her glass out to connect with the other woman's. "Fish Mooney. Pleasure to meet you, miss...?"

Silver took a sip of her martini (extra dirty as usual) and eyed the woman. She did not fit the mold of the people that she usually talked too--this was the dangers of letting the rabble mingle amongst the privileged. "I would hope so," Silver drawled and took another sip. She looked around the party that she had done most of the planning for and sighed a bit. She could have done better if only she wasn't so bored of her life. "Yes, well, Gotham has always been a bit of a fixer-upper, regardless of who is in charge." Silver replied. She wasn't about to get on the man-hater feminist train. She wanted men to like her so she could have everything she wanted.

Fish glanced at the other woman and rolled her mismatched eyes. "Don't give me that look princess, I don't have time for it," she said, waving her hand and refusing to turn to face her. She kept her head high, even as she took a sip of her drink. "That's putting it mildly. But James ushered in a new level of incompetence if you ask me."

Ecco heard a voice she never thought she would hear again, and she went absolutely still. Anywhere else -- in any other city -- this would be impossible. But she had learned a long time ago that nothing was impossible in Gotham. She felt Fish Mooney's piercing gaze on her, even without turning around. After a moment, she replied. "I suppose I should have suspected death wouldn't stop you. Stranger things have happened in this city." If Jerome Valeska could be resurrected, of course Fish could. She wasn't afraid of the other woman's anger that she had left the underworld to find new employment. If her old boss truly wanted her dead, she would have killed her, not approached her here.

That flash across her former enforcer's face -- it angered her. That surprise, that shock. It reminded her of just how much she had changed. The way her body had been twisted, deformed. Oh, she made it look good, that wasn't the point. The point was she hadn't chosen it in the first place.

Fish Mooney. She'd been a notorious name since Dick was just a kid, just a Robin. She died but now she's back, which was a typical norm for Gotham quite honestly. He didn't expect anything differently at this point in the game. Nonetheless, he wasn't Nightwing in this moment who cracked jokes and wasn't taken aback by Gotham's antics. He was Dick Grayson, ward of Bruce Wayne, police officer. A proper normal guy. Ish. "I don't think it's Gotham without some hell in it." For better or worse, actually very worse. Dick was pretty sure the city had like seven curses on it at least, if not more. "He sure didn't help though." OKAY SO--- it was true. Gotham had had literal villain mayors but this man had no agenda he was just so bad at his job it made it easy for the villains. Which was kinda worse.

She turned at the voice, a sharp smile on her lips. "Finally a man who speaks some sense," she teased, eyes glancing up and down over him. "Well, a boy anyway. So young and so jaded -- usually it takes a few more years for that to take root," she noted. She took a sip of her drink, arching a brow. "No he did not," she agreed, tapping a single long nail against her chin while she studied him. "But I thought Gotham's finest were supposed to be loyal to the mayor, hmm? Or are you not a police officer, just like to hold yourself like one?"

There was an oddness to her that he couldn't place... but Clark didn't like to judge people. Besides, Gotham was a little edgier then Metropolis. Maybe it was the staggering crime rate or the gothic architecture, but this city had the most unusual of folks. Which was why someone with her punk style really did seem like a regular Gothamite to him. "I didn't mean it as an insult, ma'am. I assure you that." Clark promised her earnestly and then nodded her head when she said she wouldn't mind her manners about the mayor. "That's alright, your point of view is still valid." Clark told her. Smiling with she took his hand and told him her name. Fish? It was unusual but he didn't want to make her uncomfortable, so he didn't comment. He'd been working on his handshake for years now. Firm but gentle. He used to be so scared of crushing other people's hands by mistake.

"It was only a joke, handsome. You promise to keep that smile on your face, you can call me whatever you like," she said, with a low chuckle. Flirtation was second nature to her, a charm that came too easy and was far too useful in making men overlook her far more dangerous attributes. He was a little white-bread for her taste, but... She'd made exceptions before, when necessary. But that was before she had this newfound power. "If by valid you mean the truth, then I suppose you're right," she said, arching a brow. "You have a nice handshake, Mr. Kent. Very impressive." She laughed again, shifted her drink back into her dominant hand to take a sip.