The Egyptian: Eddie and Selina
[Selina liked gaudy, and this place was still going to take some getting used to. In a city cloaked in greys and blues, her new home was anything but. It made her feel like she was in that other Gotham, the one that no longer even felt like home in her memories. It made her think of her childhood, of a man she still didn't think of as her father, of the Russian Family orphanage he'd handed her to like she was nothing, of all the years there.
To say she didn't like this place? That would be an understatement. But there was something about it that felt right, and that bothered her more than all the myriad of ways in which it felt so, so wrong.
The machines dinged, and the woman running the joint stepped out from some quiet and shadowy corner. She wore a black suit that glittered in the right light, snowy white beneath, cut daringly low, and heels that looked as dangerous as they did expensive. Hair loose, and mossy green eyes attentive, she made her way to the bar. She'd been told, you see, that a certain rogue had wandered in.
Her smile, when she saw him, was red and lush and genuine, and she slid onto the the barstool beside him, back to the bar and her attention on the secrets and connections being traded over felt green tables.]
Feel more like home, Edward? [She looked over at him. He'd barely been gone a month, and it felt like eternity. And Gotham, Gotham was reknitting itself in the wake of the baby bird's antics into something that felt older. Just what no one wanted. Well, no one but the mobs.]
Whatever my friend here wants. [Over her shoulder, to the very amenable bartender.]