The figure that turned towards Vicki was at least vaguely familiar, even with the minimal, and admittedly halfassed, dime-store domino mask covering a tiny fraction of his features. His head cocked to one side to more shamelessly look her up and down, but when his lips parted for his wry response, any mystery about his identity was swiftly dashed, "Really, Vale? This is the sort of investigative tactic that keeps you up the respectability food chain from me?" Nothing could disguise that impishly deadpan tone; Victor Sage, of the Gotham Enquirer.
Before she even had opportunity to retort his hand moved, deftly plucking the invitation she brandished from her grasp. He held it up for a skeptical look, tsking softly. "And you call this a forgery? What did you use, Microsoft Paint? You want to get in with this thing, you're going to need that cleavage line going all the way down to your belly button." He paused, risking one more brief, appraising glance at her assets. "And, y'know. Cleavage."