2017.01.01 - Happy New Year in Superia
On point as always, Alfred shows new guests into the Great Hall. The glitterati of Gotham City circulate about the room, tended to by some extra staff hired for the night to provide an endless stream of champagne and hors d'oeuvres. There's even an open bar set up on one side of the room out of the way so people can patronize it without clogging the flow of traffic.
One of the guests arriving is Clark Kent, seasoned reporter for the Daily Planet. While he's better known for covering events across the water in Metropolis, he'd opted for Bruce Wayne's New Year's Eve party instead of Lex Luthor's. (Go figure.) He makes his way in with a small smile, looking around, and after being ushered inside says warmly to the butler, "Thanks, Alfred. Always a pleasure to see you."
Bruce Wayne mingles, moving through the crowd with a charming smile on his handsome face and a glass of bubbly in his hand. Coming across Clark Kent, Gotham's First Son offers a hand. "Happy New Year!"
Not used to a fancy party or wearing a suit, Healer--er, Mark Matthews--is making an uncomfortable effort to mingle. Or at least to bump into as few people as possible. Should he even be here, with the top people of Gotham? All he does is web design, not anything fancy, glamourous or worth an invitation.
Turning to Bruce, Clark offers a firm (but carefully restrained) handshake and replies, "And happy new year to you, too, Bruce! Thanks for the invite. I was afraid to go to the office party this year, if I'm honest. Cat Grant's going to be there, and..." He makes a mild panic-face. For all she's admirable and awesome, Cat can be... overwhelming. He notices Mark amidst the crowd, since he notices almost everyone, but he doesn't recognize the younger man.
Bruce Wayne nods and shares a conspiratorial grin with Clark for a moment. He's all too used to overwhelming women in his life. "Great to have you here. Strictly off the record though, right?" he teases. "Oh, pardon me," he says, slipping away from the reporter and approaching Mark.
"Mark Matthews, right?" Bruce asks, offering a hand. "You just pitched a redesign of the Wayne Enterprises website? Glad you could make it."
Mark freezes at the offered hand with a grimace, then cautiously grasps Bruce's hand as if it was going to explode if he did it wrong. "Y-yes Mister Wayne. That's right. I'm glad you remembered me, it shows just how great you are that you'd remember someone as insignificant as me." Oh god did he just embarrass himself? He can't help but be nervous.
"Insignificant? Nonsense," Bruce assures Mark. "Have you met Lucius? He's around here somewhere. I think the two of you would have a lot to talk about." Bruce cranes his neck, looking around the crowded room for the man in question.
Clark approaches the pair after picking up a drink for himself, smiling again. "Wait, I do know you--you're Mark Matthews, right? Didn't you do some web design work for the Planet a while back?" He looks to Bruce, winking, and says, "If I'm remembering correctly, Mark here's quite a whiz at making websites stable, efficient, and stylish."
Mark looks between bruce and Clark, wide-eyed and confused. "How...well..um...yeah, I did...yes. I didn't think I did that...that good. It is just too many people try to load up on graphics and make the sites look like they are from the 'radical' days of the internet, or focus on making things TOO neat and tight."
Bruce Wayne smiles that 1,000 watt smile again. "Well there's a ringing endorsement if I ever heard one." He makes a sweeping gesture with his left hand, the champagne in the glass threatening to spill out onto the floor. "If I'm happy with the work you do for Wayne Enterprises, I might want you to take a look at the Wayne Foundation's site."
Dick Grayson arrives from: Wayne Manor - Entry Hall.
"Speaking as someone who writes for the paper and blogs for the site," Clark says with a chuckle, "I can say that you do great work, Mister Matthews." He pops a morsel from the buffet into his mouth, then looks to Bruce in amusement. "You always do put on a great spread, but would it kill you to include something simple for an old farm boy? Maybe some cocktail weenies or pigs in a blanket?" He's mostly kidding, of course. Clark Kent has dined at countless gourmet venues around the world, and he's no stranger to haute cuisine.
Mark beams with pride, the sighs, shoulders visibly less tense. "Heh, thanks. That sounds great." He follows Clark's lead with the food, grabbing whatever looks appetizing.
Dick Grayson enters, dressed in his own tux, the youth looking somewhat uncomrfortable in the close-collared suit. Still, he has a smile for everyone as he makes his way across the hall. He picks a ginger ale from a passing tray, and joins up with Bruce and his guests where they are talking. "Sorry I'm late," he says in a low voice to Bruce. "Ice on the freeway."
"Cocktail weenies? Pigs in a blanket? I can ask Alfred if we have some stashed in the fridge somewhere," Bruce offers to Clark.
Seeing Mark relax a bit, Bruce smiles and looks over the crowd. People were mingling throughout the room with the liveried staff moving smoothly around. Once Dick arrives, he beams a smile at the youth. "It's all right," he assures Dick after the apology.
Clark laughs lightly and waves it off, saying, "Oh, I'm just teasing, Bruce! As long as there's some of Alfred's apple pie around here, somewhere, then I'm completely satisfied." Noticing Dick's arrival, he shakes his head a bit and says, still grinning, "Look at you! Gosh, Dick, you look taller every time I see you. And you're driving now?" He raises a hand to his forehead, miming a mind blown gesture.
Mark mills about awhile, trying to enjoy himself. He's...not a crowd-lover, that's for sure. Crowds tend to be annoying and loud, and worse, if anything goes wrong, they become a panicky mess or angry mob. But he does his best to disappear while still being seen.
Dick Grayson quirks a smile at Clark. "I graduate high-school this year, Mr Kent," he says. "I've been driving for a few years now." He sips his ginger ale.
Fashionably late, Zachary Zatara arrives in an impeccable tux that is probably the same style as his "working clothes" that he wears onstage. He likes these sorts of parties; he's not BFFs enough with Bruce to feel obligated to bring a gift, but he's more than a blip in the social radar. Even if he could have just used magic to teleport himself into the place, complete with a dramatic puff of smoke, he held back. This is New Year's Eve, and it's supposed to be Bruce's party, even if he probably will avoid all praise and attention.
Besides, that feels dangerously close to work, and Zach's decidedly off tonight. He's already put in his time for December's maniacal season.
It's the limousine, this time. Zach steps out, runs his hands down the breast of his jacket, and smiles back at the driver before strolling into the place with his million-watt smile. It's the same one from the posters, the same one in the photos and appearances, though it does turn a bit more genuine when he is greeted by Alfred and greets him back.
"Happy New Year! A little early, but..." Zach gestures around, chuckling. "Just in case you're busy at the time. Thank you." He takes his flute of champagne -- and it surely is genuine champagne and not only sparkling wine -- and enters into the crowd, to mill about. But like any Zatara, there's an element of social butterfly and one of invisibility if he should want to go unnoticed and uninterrupted for a time.
"Well hello and welcome, Mr. Zatara," Bruce greets, offering his free hand with a brilliant smile. "Glad you could make it. Thought you might be in New York or Metropolis tonight."
The champagne was assuredly real and the rest of the food and drink offered were top notch. No expense was being spared for this evening. "Have you met my ward, Dick Grayson?" Bruce introduces the young man in question to Zachary.
Clark raises his glass of bubbly at Zach's arrival, grinning, and says, "Well, hey! This party just keeps getting more star-studded. Nice to see you again, Zach. Oh, by the way, Perry White asked me to personally apologize for Lois's tweet about the 'drooling fan-boy/girls.' She deleted it, but she's not very good at saying 'sorry.'" Clark has met the young Zatara, of course. He even did a favorable write-up of one of his shows not that long ago, comparing him to the legendary Giovanni Zatara in stage talent. Looking back to Dick, Clark just gets a look on his face that seems to say Golly! "Graduating? Wow."
Zach Zatara? As in, the magician? More and more amazing guests are arriving. He distracts himself by stuffing his face with whatever food and non-alcoholic beverages he can find. Of course, he realizes, this isn't very polite. He must look like a pig. "Hmp. S-shrimp, anyone?"
Dick Grayson does a slight double-take as he notices Zachary walking around - and then Zack's up there with Bruce and him, and he gives a smile and nod. "I've caught his show in New York a couple of times," he says. "Good to meet you."
He's met the teen mage a couple of times as Robin, and now he cuts his eyes around the crowd just to make sure Zack is not here on 'business'. Nothing that looks like a demon or anything, at least...
He'll have to pay more attention next time! Zach hadn't realized how close he was getting to Bruce and his coterie. Entourage? Something to that effect. First is Clark, who gets a chuckle. The young magician may be practiced in smiles and pleasant pokerfaces, but he seems genuine in his amusement here. "Oh, thank you. We have to keep up appearances, after all. I feel like Ms. Lane and I have a little too much in common, like we'd either be best friends or strangling each other after five minutes." He lifts his flute and sips the champagne, glancing around and spotting the one guest stuffing his face with hors d'oeuvres. A brow lifts, but he doesn't comment on it, turning back once Bruce speaks too.
"Thank you. Oh no, no. I usually do the Metropolis Dome these days, and I make sure to be done before New Year's. I can't abide being chained to some performance on a night like this." Zach lowers the glass and swishes the fizzy liquid around in it. Reaching his hand out, he takes Bruce's. It's a firm shake he gives, though not overcompensating or limp, and just a squeeze and a single pump. That's it. "It's a pleasure to be invited."
Once introduced to Dick, the circumspect attention does stand out to Zach. The brow once again lifts, but he quietly clears his throat. "A pleasure." He's sure the young man is familiar, somehow, but he brushes it aside for the moment. This is not going to be a work day!
"How is Lois? I can't remember the last time I saw her," Bruce remarks to Clark, his expression thoughtful as he combs his memory trying to jog loose his last interaction with the woman. He shrugs it off though as being inconsequential.
"Shrimp? Why don't mind if I do," the billionaire playboy quips, plucking an hors d'oeuvre off the tray of a passing waiter. Was it shrimp? He doesn't even bother to look before popping it into his mouth.
Nodding at Dick's words, Bruce agrees, "He does a great show. Best I've ever seen." If Dick's quick survey of the room was noticed by Bruce, he gives no sign of it.
"I don't blame you for wanting the holidays off, Mr. Zatara," Bruce comments. "While I don't have a huge family to be spending time with at this time of year," he says, glossing over the fact of his lost family, "I still enjoy celebrating with those I do have in my life."
"Lois is Lois," Clark answers with a sigh, then a sheepish grin. "She's probably chained to her laptop right now, cramming in last-minute work before midnight." He samples the shrimp--or is it some kind of tofu?--too, munching on it, and then looks over to Dick again, giving him a knowing wink. He doesn't see any trouble to worry about so far. "The Metro-Dome is definitely a great venue," he agrees with Zachary. To Bruce again, "Oh, family's what we make it, Bruce. You've got lots of people here who didn't come just for the photo-ops and hors d'oeuvres."
Dick Grayson certainly cannot resist Shrimp ala Alfred, and snags a couple to pop in his mouth as he listens to Clark. Swallowing, the teen shoots a kind smile to Bruce at the mention of family. The teen shifts where he's standing, casually noting who is in the crowd. After all, you never know when The Penguin might try to crash the party. Again.
Glancing back to the Amazing Mouth-Stuffing Man in the crowd whom he didn't know, Zach notes his appearance for later encounter. Just in case. And then he turns back to wave off shrimp whatever-that-is. Celebrity, vegetarian, et cetera. "Oh, well, you should see my cousin and my uncle. I'm sure I'm not better than them, even if I might be better than my contemporaries."
The young magician breaks into a grin, sipping at his champagne again. "But don't let me drag down the conversation with work and appearances. I'll mingle. Good to see you again, and great party." He gives a sort of salute with a raise of his glass to the others and then moves back off into the crowd, at least tentatively.
"That woman is a workaholic," Bruce informs Clark, though it isn't like the reporter doesn't already know that truth. The man looks over the crowd, "Family is what we make of it?" he echoes a soft question. "I wonder what that says about me," he concludes, not being known for his very close attachments to anyone.
He raises his glass in a wordless salute before Zachary withdraws, his piercing blue eyes following the youth across the room for a few moments. Turning back to Clark, Mark and Dick, Bruce favors them with another dazzling smile.
"About any of us," Clark murmurs, glancing down at his drink. After all, as the Daily Planet's favorite confirmed bachelor, he's not known for having much family, either. (Not many people know, of course, that he flew back to Smallville for lunch with his parents. Or that he spent Christmas there, and they still had to use the lead foil wrapping paper.) He too toasts Zach as he goes, commenting idly, "They really are all very good, the Zataras." He cocks an eyebrow at Dick, since they both seem to keep scanning the crowd, but he doesn't say anything about it.
Still, Mark tries blending in with the crowd despite probably being in better shape than a lot of the party-goers. After awhile of eating, he sighs, belly bloated a bit - but not for long. "Ah....much better."
Dick Grayson probably can't help scanning the crowd - Bruce's lessons about detection and deduction are so ingrained in the Teen Wonder that by now they are second nature. Still, he doesn't neglect the guests around them. "They are," he says to Clark. "I was able to see Zatanna in Vegas last year. Amazing."
"Yes, Zatanna was fantastic," Bruce murmurs, having taken Dick to see her in Vegas. What he neglects to mention is the time back stage they both got with Zatanna due to Bruce's VIP status. His gaze skims over the crowd, taking in the various movers and shakers and, of course, the hangers on who somehow managed to get invited anyway. It was the cream of the crop (mostly) and they all seemed to be having the time of their lives.
"When do you go back to school?" he asks Dick, opting for a change of subject.
Clark listens politely to the exchange between Bruce and Dick, withholding comment for the moment. In fact, just then he's tuning in to local radio broadcasts and such, just checking to make sure no huge disasters are in the offing--and then he's suddenly murmuring something about the bathroom, turning to head off and get Alfred to escort him out. No doubt, he'll be back very shortly. It's just a trip to the men's room, right?
Mark scans the room for anyone he might know, but quickly gives up. The closest to knowing is Kent, Wayne, and Zatara, but they wouldn't want anything to do with him, right? However, it seems to be the best option, so he heads back over to them. He waits patiently for an opening.
Dick Grayson gives a rueful smile. "Too soon!" he quips. "Winter break is over in two days," he says. "Then it's a long haul until Spring." Especially with exams and late late nights as Robin to contend with. "Then I've got to start thinking about colleges."
Zach doesn't find anyone he knows in the crowd, although there are a couple of greetings just because he's so well-dressed and looks like he belongs. Some are sure they've seen him somewhere before, others are sure they know him but don't pursue an extended conversation. Still others watch from afar, having recognized the up-and-comer, with his headlining popularity. He ends up with a fresh flute of champagne, his attention drawn to the window looking upon the city, where fireworks occasionally sparkle from the sky.
At least it's not that Bat Signal or, worse, actual explosions.
Bruce smiles a welcome to Mark when he approaches. "Where do you want to go for Spring Break this year?" he asks Dick, not making any mention of college applications.
"Bruuuuuuce!" a woman exclaims from several feet away before she very nearly pounces on him. "There you are! Where have you been hiiiiding?" she whines, draping herself from his shoulder.
"Just mingling," he replies with a smooth grin while slipping an arm about the woman's waist as if it belongs there.
"I thought I was going to get a tour," she pouts, seemingly oblivious of everyone else around.
"Well, that can be arranged," Bruce answers. He lifts his glass in a wordless toast to Clark, Mark and Dick and leads the clearly inebriated woman away.
Bruce Wayne exits toward: Wayne Manor - Entry Hall.