Pamela is made of (hemlockandhoney) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-05-10 23:17:00 |
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Entry tags: | poison ivy, scarecrow |
Who: Brielle, transitioning into Ivy & Crane.
What: An arrangement. Crane is Ivy's bitch, etc.
Where: Arkham, then Crane's apartment.
When: The day after the forum chaos.
Warnings: Ivy.
When the nuclear fallout settled, and when the forum messages stopped coming, Brielle was truly alone. Her intention had been to leave Vegas entirely, but with MK's insistence that such an evacuation would only make things worse, Brielle conceded to sticking around until Wren was found. Until Wren returned and things could go back to normal, then Brielle would leave. Despite every hardship in her life, this hurt differently than any bruise or backhand. Perhaps because she knew, really knew, that she was to blame. She was a horrible person. If she wanted to be completely honest with herself, she hadn't told Wren for several reasons. Yes, it was an awkward subject to approach, and yes, she didn't want Wren to be angry with her or to cast her out. But that wasn't what plagued her with the most guilt. Brielle still cared about Luke. These were the thoughts that circled her, and in the dark, she was forced to face them.
She spent that first night in the park, sleeping in one of the plastic tunnels intended for children. It helped that she didn't have much money. Getting more than twenty blocks was a problem at this point. The next day, she traded her Birkin bag for six hundred dollars at an upscale consignment shop off the Strip. It was easily worth ten times that, but she wasn't attached to its leather enough to haggle. She downgraded to a straw tote that was half her size and boasted a colorful likening of the city skyline on its front in rainbow embroidery. It fit her four outfits easily, along with her toothbrush and other typical trinkets. The pictures should be burned, the ones of Luke at least. She eyed them for a brief moment on the sidewalk, under the sweltering weight of the midday sun.. but she couldn't bear to, and they were stuffed into the bottom of the bag alongside the others. After that, it was on to Passages hotel, which seemed like the best place to stay when one had nowhere to go.
Ivy was open arms when it came to Gotham. She'd never turn down a night spent in her city, but she knew how to appreciate her time away as well. It kept the others off of her trail, at least. Not that she wasn't eager to see some old faces, but it had to be on her terms. Like tonight, while she lurked outside Arkham Asylum, awaiting the inevitability of Mr. Crane.
Dr. Jonathan Crane was a man who enjoyed his job, and as such, he had absolutely no problem staying at the asylum from the morning far into the evening, only returning to his small, neat apartment nearby when the moon had risen high into the air. This evening was like all others, and it was late by the time he exited through the staff entrance near the back of the asylum. He knew the city of Gotham well, and he looked around carefully before leaving the relative safety of the building, briefcase in his right hand, the left fixed in the hard fiberglass cast, an injury that followed him to Gotham though he would have much preferred it to stay in Las Vegas with its proper owner. Alexander was careless, Crane believed, and he did not think ahead far with the paths he decided to move down. That was the only explanation he had to their current state. After all, the worst punishment he had received was imprisonment in his own asylum, and even that had been temporary.
Swift steps carried him down the walk, but he slowed moments later, blue eyes narrowing behind the thin frames of his glasses, caution spiking as that peculiar feeling of not being alone swept over him. Someone was there, watching, and it was the fact that they hid from plain view that had him distrusting. “Whomever is out there,” Crane called out, peeling his glasses off his face and tucking them in the pocket of his suit jacket, “You had best show yourself.”
It was difficult to have nothing but hard feelings for the Asylum when they at least saw fit to populate the grounds with so many trees. It was in one such oak that she perched, legs crossed over the bough. Spring blooming branches shielded her enough that only infrared vision would have captured her image. Ivy was forced to wait on him longer than expected, and when he finally did appear, she was in no rush to escape the languid comfort of her branch. Her eyes followed him, although she did not move. The first sign of life was actually her smile, the suggestive bloom, when she noted his anxiety. No, doctor, you're not alone. His demand dug a laugh loose from her, and it's sound was a swipe of satin sheets through the mind. Show herself, very well. One of the branches folded back, the leaves shivering like burlesque feathers. A cluster of thick leaves obscured her from the shoulders down, as she didn't seem to be dressed. A bare leg dropped off of the branch where she sat, ankle stretching dreamily. "Making a house call, doctor?"
The soft laughter, the rustle of leaves, it was these that drew his attention to the oak tree that took root nearby, gaze rising to the branches and landing, moments later, on the woman who occupied one as though it were her very home. Of course it was her, who else would it be? And how many others would seek him out for a casual conversation instead of the death that so many seemed to think he deserved. “I don’t make house calls,” Crane said instead, taking a casual stance below her branch, several feet away, gaze sliding over the bare leg, the stretch, the visual treat she gave. He would be lying if he said that it had no effect on him, though it was hard to tell with how stoic and controlled he strived to be. “But I do go home on occasion. Flirting with the trees, are we, Ivy?”
"Would you rather I flirt with you?" She asked such things so easily, eyes soft and thoughtful - as if that was even a possibility. The branch she was on tilted toward the ground quite suddenly, and down it's ruddy bark she slid until bare feet met with the cool ground. If there was any worry about her state of dress, all that skin show and tell while she was in the air was only a false alarm. Her strapless gown was actually quite long, when it wasn't busy being hiked up to the high point of her thighs. As she stood, its hem slithered to the ground, although it's modesty was lost with a thick slit up each leg. "So lets go," she proposed. Meaning his home, of course. "You look like you could use the protection." Not that Ivy was a reliable prospect when it came to bodyguards - she stuck her neck out for no one, but she also didn't make suggestions without meaning them. She reached for him without invitation, tapping his cast in gesture. "Was it a little bird?" She had to ask, there were stitches on her arm from one such menace.
As Ivy slithered down from the tree branch she had perched on, Crane watched every single move, the slink and turn, the ivory skin that teased him, though it was soon concealed as her dress shifted down to cover what had been offered moments earlier. “I would never propose to tell you who and who not to flirt with,” he answered evenly, though as she pushed forward, Crane had to admit that he was surprised. “Shouldn’t I be seeking protection from you?” he asked, a faint tinge of amusement to his voice as her fingers tapped against the hard shell of his cast. He lifted his chin, just a slight shift, before pulling away, putting inches of distance between them. “It may have been. No one is ready to confess.”
"It's from Vegas then," she concluded. Ivy didn't waste time in convincing Crane that he had nothing to fear from her, she wasn't a liar. "Good, the other side is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about." She did not wait at his side, but rather strolled forward a few paces down the walk before pausing. "Unless you would rather discuss matters in my office." Her shamrock eyes lifted in regard of the oak tree that she'd just abandoned, her office.
Someone on his side, for once? Unusual, and he wondered what she thought to gain from such an agreement. Nonetheless, Crane followed after her as she moved down the sidewalk, pausing when she did as she glanced back towards the oak tree. He gave it a long look, then smirked, eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m quite allergic to falling out of trees. Perhaps when I’ve healed, we can visit in your office. For now, my apartment will suffice.” And he took that opportunity to step past her, leading the way to the shabby apartment complex that wasn’t so far from Arkham Asylum, a brisk walk in the dangerous nighttime air of Gotham.
Crane could save himself a lot of trouble if he stopped thinking of it as Ivy being on his side. She was always on her own side, she was merely extending an invitation to him for a brief visit on said side. Ivy was admittedly a little disappointed that he didn't want to play in her tree, there were so many ways to hurt him up there. But she did need his assistance, so maybe it was best to reserve the torture for after he declined. "Lead the way," she murmured while falling a couple of paces behind him. Only a fool would trust Crane.
And lead the way the good doctor did. The walk wasn’t long with as long as quick as his steps were, and the building was hardly anything to write home about. Shabby brick with a crumbling facade, Crane opened the front door for her that led into an equally dilapidated lobby. Rusted mailboxes and a floor littered with trash and some things that seemed better not to investigate further, he said nothing as he took the stairs to the second level. Up here, it was no better, and the slam of a door further down the hallway spoke of the fact that people here were suspicious, wary. It hardly seemed to be a home for the doctor, but he paid no mind to his surroundings as he unlocked the door to apartment 2c.
Inside, things were much different than they were in the hallway. The unit was clean, the floors swept, and though nothing could be done for the shabby walls and cabinets that were falling apart, it was well kept. “Make yourself at home, if you would like,” Crane said, glancing back towards her as he closed the door behind her, doing the number of locks that secured them within, though little would keep the outside world out if they truly wanted to breach the barrier. He sat his briefcase down on the torn and stained couch, working his tie off carefully with one hand, his gaze never leaving her as he did so.
To Ivy, the lobby seemed to be an equal opportunity for tetanus and staph, but she had no issue with slinking through. Shoes or no shoes, her blood was already pure poison. She did heft the hem of her dress off of the ground however, no need to snag its threads on a dirty needle. Inside Crane's domain wasn't much better, as far as she was concerned. It was difficult to tell by her expression if she even noticed a difference between the world outside and this cleaner one within. It was all brick and plywood, and therefore disgusting. It made her skin crawl. Make herself at home? She tossed him a smile that was only half amusement from over the carve of her tinted shoulder. "Oh, I don't think you'd like me to do that." His lair would be teeming with a good chunk of the rainforest by the time she was through. She turned her back to one empty portion of wall, watching him as he also observed her. Her attention traced the outline of his hands, watching him tug loose his tie. "Don't stop there." She tongued the edge of her teeth expectantly.
Her request had him raising his brows, giving her a long look that was unreadable in its meaning. “I’m not performing a strip tease for you, Ivy,” Crane said, clearly nonplussed as he unbuttoned his shirt, but only the first two buttons, enough for comfort and little more. The suit jacket, however, was pulled off, laid aside carefully as he took a seat on the couch, getting as comfortable as he could with a casted arm.
“Your games mean little to me, appealing as you are. So perhaps we ought to get down to business. You were waiting for me outside of Arkham.” A pause, pointed and sharp. “Why?”
She had a way of laughing through closed teeth, tongue against the roof of her mouth, turning the sound throaty. Ivy settled with a sigh, remaining at her post even as he took a seat. She preferred him there, lower. Forced to admire her even as she moved. Her fingertips drummed the wall on either side of her, and she rested her head back, watching him through a fall of panther lashes. "You're no fun." But very well, down to business. "How much influence do you have over your little boy on the other side?"
“I never claimed to be fun, I fear. And you should know better to come here expecting any sort of excitement and fun from me.” He was a sensible man, mostly, not prone to joking around or taking much enjoyment out of most facets of life. His work was his fun, a definition he doubted he shared with many. He watched as she settled against the wall, seeing the superiority in her decision and not faulting her at all for it. She was on his turf, after all, and it was best to be cautious. “As for influence. It’s probably a scary amount, to be quite honest with you. He’s been a very good student of mine.” Crane paused, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Why do you ask? What kind of plans do you have up your sleeve, Ivy?”
"No plans, only a suggestion." She wouldn't call it a favor for the sake of owing him something in the future. Although, sparing his life on a continued basis should have been enough, by her estimations. "Brielle thinks that she is leaving Las Vegas, I need to ensure that doesn't happen." One foot went on pointed toes, bending at the knee so that the whole of her leg spilled through the dress' slit. "Have your little boy threaten her with something, give her a place to stay." Ivy moved away from the wall with a small push, bypassing where he sat so that she could peek out one of the windows, as if she expected an ambush of the Bat kind. Having two of Gotham's most wanted in the same place at the same time was as good an occurrence as any. Nothing outside stirred her suspicion, and Ivy eventually pivoted so that she could circle around the back of the couch where he sat. She settled elbows there, just behind his head. "Crane," a drop of free fingers against his shoulder. "Can I ask you something?"
“Kindness on his part would likely go over better than further threats. But he’ll see what he can do. He doesn’t have a tendency to fail, so you can have some confidence in that.” He listened to her shift, move towards the window, and Crane turned to watch her move. There was an enticing show of skin as the slit of her dress bared more than it concealed, and he tilted his head to the side at the sight, taking in, memorizing, cataloging away for later thought. “I’ll make sure that she doesn’t get a chance to leave town. He’s plenty of room, so a place for her to stay won’t burden him in the slightest.” Crane turned back forward as she approached, her fingers lighting on his shoulder moments later. He could smell her, the floral scent that no one would ever categorize as ‘soft’, but there was little about her that was soft and sweet, not when one knew more than a little about her, that was. “You can ask,” Jonathan said after a moment, his words even. “But I cannot guarantee an answer.”
Lifting his hand, he let his fingers touch hers, just a moment, before he drew his hand away, letting it rest again upon an angular and pointed knee.
Ivy didn't really care if this would burden Alex or not, it wasn't a negotiation. She only half listened to Crane's explanation while migrating, and she was entirely silent for a long minute after. She was an exotic land, smelling heavily of fresh rain and wet grass, passionfruit pulp and flowers in the dirt. Ivy was extremely still when his fingers rose to grace hers. If there was a flicker of anything in her expression, even surprise, he couldn't see it. She waited a beat after he drew away before her hand moved down the front of his body with a slow walk of fingers, trailing after the direction of the touch that abandoned her. "Have you seen any of the Bat's birds? I'm looking for one in particular, I owe him something.." She paused to undo another of his shirt buttons.
The doctor let out a long breath as her fingers took a journey down his chest, undoing yet another button on his shirt as he opened his eyes to look down at her questing hand. He didn’t lift his own to stop her, to pause her progress, though his eyebrows did raise in question. “No, I’ve not seen any of them. Unless they’re the ones that come in the night to ambush the boy on the other side,” Crane said, and he tilted his head back to look towards her then, free of his glasses and light brown hair unkempt and laying against the dull green colour of his couch. “Who are you looking for?”
"Hm," she made a thoughtful little sound. Her eyes, shards of electric lime, passed over the lacking state of his apartment as she considered the information. Why was she not surprised that he bordered on useless? When he shifted to observe her, Ivy eventually dropped her attention onto him. She slid her hand into the gap of his shirt front to till his bare skin with a gentle scrape of her nails. This man who would poison the masses as an experiment, who would unleash fear toxin in a crowded room just to document the chaos.. she wondered what it would take for him to blush. Not much, she imagined, and passed over one of his nipples to see. "Don't worry about it," was all she offered him.
If Ivy thought that he would so easily be pushed to flushing, she was sorely mistaken. Her fingers provoked a reaction, a shiver racing through him as he closed his eyes for a moment, as though relishing in the sensation of her nails and fingers brushing against him. “Don’t worry about it?” Crane echoed dragging his good hand up towards her, the pads of his fingers coming to light upon her wrist, his touch barely there. She was up to something more, something she wasn’t telling him, and it was that information that he wanted to find. “You say volumes about what you’re hiding with that sort of response.”
A twitch of her eyebrow betrayed amusement as she gazed upon him. Did Crane really think that if she was hiding something, she could be pushed to sharing her plans? Tougher bats have tried. Ivy found herself eyeing his mouth with some consideration. A tongue between her teeth, plotting, plotting. But no. Withdrawing her hand from his shirt, she patted some fingers against his cheek in idle dismissal. She already had what she'd came for, the Alex arrangement. Everything else was a game, and all games came to an end. Ivy moved for the door in a swish of dark silk, "I expect progress by tomorrow, Crane."
If he was disappointed by her sudden departure, he made no sign of it as he turned to watch her retreat, the fabric of her dress clinging to her every curve. “You will not be disappointed, Ivy, I can guarantee that,” he said smoothly, doing up the buttons of his shirt, fixing what she had mussed during those few small moments. The corner of his mouth was lifted in a faint, dark smile. Oh yes, there would be results. Brielle would be with Alex before the week was over, that he could guarantee.