[Sodium_noir] Hell - That's Other People, Right?

[Eric]

Sinclair Party
  Women's Restroom - Sandra (Bastet), Christine (inebriated Mage)
  Hallway Outside Women's Restroom - Jack (Smoking), John (Undying)
   
  [Christine]
  "Christine," says Christine but this time, she doesn't offer a beautiful stranger her hand to shake, "and thankyou for interrupting an . . . an awkward conversation back then." Christine breaks off, her gaze searching the other woman's with sudden, sharp anxiety. "There was another woman in here with me - wasn't there?"
   
  [Sandra]
  "You mean Blonde, Leggie, Freaky Pasty White? Temperature dropped about 20 degrees while she was in the room? That particular 'other woman'?" she asks gesturing towards the cloakroom exit with her hand. "No, you weren't hallucinating. And judging from your reaction, it's someone you would have rather never seen again."
   
  [Christine]   While Christine is unspeakably relieved to discover that she can still tell the difference between reality and visions, the news that Camille Carlton really is alive and kicking about Gotham City isn't good. Might she have been mistaken? A frown creases Christine's forehead, her eyes full of worry. Mrs Carlton - former client of Mara's, wife of influential Seattle stockbroker, Jerry Carlton, supposedly murdered by her abusive asshole of a husband two years ago. Christine recalls Camille Carlton's face clearly - it is one that has surfaced in her nightmares more than once - guilt dreams mostly. Christine remembers sounding off unforgiveably at the pathetic and bruised socialite sitting in Mara's office, railing at her for being such a victim . . .  It should have cost Christine her job, especially once the headlines about Mrs Carlton's murder hit the stands.
  

  Christine is certain that the woman she just saw is the same Camille whose body had been found then taken from the morgue. At the time, she - along with everyone else - had assumed that bit of skulduggery had been down to chief suspect, Jerry Carlton pulling strings. No body, no case against him. 
  

  Christine lifts her fingertips to her lips. Camille's fingers had been cold as winter. Christine has felt a touch as icy as that before. Mara. Her vampire ex-lover. Oh, my god. Suddenly, a whole lot of things make more sense. Christine's horror flares into her expressive eyes. Mara. Surely she hadn't known that Camille Carlton was - is - a vampire all along? Surely she can't have - wouldn't have let Christine go on thinking that . . . feeling guilty and . . . 

   
  [Sandra]
  Judging from the woman's demeanor when she asked, this poor girl wasn't drinking to have fun. She was doing her damnedest to keep from feeling bad. That was never a good sign. "Sandra," she says introducing herself. "I'm sorry it's not under better circumstances." 
   
  Sandra kneels on one knee next to the distraught woman. "It's ok," she says in a quiet, comforting tone resting a warm hand on her arm seeing she was doing all she could to hold herself together. "I won't leave you alone. Just take it easy for few."
   
  Sandra looks behind her at the cloakroom exit both to see if the Ice Queen was gone or if anyone else was looking for her. "Speaking of being alone, did you arrive by yourself or are you with someone?"
   
  [Christine]
      Christine drags herself back into the present. She stares blankly at Sandra. 
  

  "What? Er . . . yes. A friend - Jack Emerson. He's . . ."
  

  Christine halts. She'd had to make a hasty exit from the verandah, leaving Jack with that enigmatic Frenchwoman, Simone. Shame floods through her. What must they have thought? But she'd had to get away - it had been that or throw up all over their shoes. Christine's social etiquette may be far from refined but there are some things that not even she can face having to live down. 
  

  "I need to find him . . . and I also want to find someone else here at the party. Urgently!" 
  

  Actually, that's not true. Most of all? Christine just wants to get the hell out of this ghastly place. But before she does, she really has to talk to Mara. 
  

    [Jack]
He got as far as the door of the Ladies Restroom. Jack stared at it, blinking.  It might as well have been the great Wall of China, the Fortress of Masada, and the City of Troy all combined into one.  His concern for Christine had come up against the impenetrable force of the Place Which Shall Not Be Entered (well, not if you were of the male persuasion).  
   
  Jack stared for a few more minutes, then slumped down, defeated, on a nearby, smartly upholstered bench.  He lit up a cigarette, trying to remain unobtrusive.  A few elegant, perfumed women drifted past him into the forbidden sanctum and, tempted as he was to ask for their assistance in finding out the status of his companion, Jack decided it was best to sit and wait for Christine to return.

   
  [Christine]
  Christine stands up hastily - bad move, given her condition. The room swims sickeningly and she is forced to grab wall for a second until her head clears. 
   
    [Sandra]
  Sandra helps Christine to her feet seeing to it that she gets her balance and focus before letting the woman stand. "Come on then. Let's go see if we can find this Jack person," she says. 

   
  [Christine]
  A few deep breaths and she's on the move again. She all but trips over Jack as she exits the cloakroom.
  

  "Hey," she glances around distractedly. 
   
    [Sandra]
  "Ah, you mean this Jack. Hello again," she says seeing a familiar face of the evening. 

   
  [Christine]
  "Where's Simone?" Christine shakes her head. "Never mind. Something I got to do. Then let's split." There's a desperate edge to her voice. "Can't take this place anymore." 
   
  [Sandra]
  "You two going to be ok? Do you need a ride? I'm willing to offer up some transportation if you need it. Neither of you quite look in any kind of condition to drive right now," she says to them.
   
  [Matt, John]
    The two men entered the hallway in a heated discussion.  Both were dressed and carried themselves as if they were people of power and influence, though it was immediately plain that neither was a member of Gotham's upper crust.
   
  The two were intent on each other, occassionally pausing to look at an empty space next to them. They would actually talk to the patch of empty space, and then turn to each other and continue.
   
  Noticing the they weren't alone, they paused where they were and continued.  The language had switched.  The dark skinned one spoke Egyptian and the other spoke Latin.  Both versions were very old.
   
  [Sandra]
  Sandra's eyes and ears both perk up at the sound of her native language being spoken so far away from home and looks to the approaching gentlemen.  The look on her face was very easy to read it caught her so off guard. 
   
  [John]
  Finally, the darker skinned one left.  His companion watched him leave, and then turned to stare in the other direction as a patch of cold air made it's way down the hall and disappear through the wall.
   
  Muttering obscenities under his breath, John reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar.  Biting off the end, he glanced at Jack (OOC: assuming I'm in the right place).  "Got a match?"


   

  ~ Taggity Christine, Jack, and John :-)
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