YAI: Chapter Three

3. Dreaming Drinks

_{And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off
I am done with my graceless heart
So  tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart
Florence + the Machine:  Shake it Out}

The Iceberg Lounge was always said to be the place in Gotham. It didn't matter how you got so important, just as long as you were. And as long as you had the cash to back you up, you could basically do whatever you want. Just make sure that the press has their back turned before you do something really crazy. And even then, if you were in the Lounge then you probably had the dough to shut them up (or the courage not to care.)

Yep. The Iceberg Lounge is the place in Gotham.

Walking inside, Emily and I had to crane our necks in a completely non-subtle manner to take in the impossibly high ceilings. The room echoed with upper-crust chatter and a string quarter. The walls were white, making the restaurant look vast and epic, and the floors were very pale blue in bold jagged tiles that fit together like a frosty puzzle. The décor was very art deco, giving off this beautifully retro feel with its shape and design. With the below freezing temperature, it felt like the whole place really was the inside of an iceberg. The two of us were on the brink of goosebumps! In the distance, we could hear some splashing and cheering on, but it was too crowded around the glass rink where the action was going on.

Emily groaned, trying to crane her neck for a better sight. She looked stunning that night, dressed to the nines in that dress with the draping sleeves. She had told me the name of the design before, calling it a 'batwing' dress, and I had loved it ever since. "What do you think everybody's looking at?" I asked her, watching as she tried to look over people's heads.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know… A water feature?" Her guess was rough, but somewhat accurate. Cobblepot seemed like the type who would put a giant fountain in the middle of the room.

Her face looked slightly contorted for a moment and my heart sank. "You okay?"

She turned to me. The expression turned into a giddy smile. "I'm brilliant! Can you believe we're actually in here?!"

I squealed, not caring if anyone heard me. I found her hand and gave it a squeeze, beaming from ear to ear. "I know, right?!"

In giggles, the two of us looked around for a possible sign to show us what to do next. We could try and find the bar or see the huge ring in the centre to find out what was going on or find a table and get some dinner or--

"Jess!" I was broken from my sleuthing as Emily pointed out a distant sign with the nod of her head. It was in elegant cursive and in a faux silver Victorian frame, barely readable, but I could recognise the most important letters. VIP. I looked down to the matching passes in my hand, holding them tightly. Still gripping to her palm, both of us damp with nervous sweat, we pushed through the crowd and towards the sign.

There was a young man, just a little older than us, dressed up like a butler. His bowtie was a dark blue and his arrogant smirk was stiffly placed. As we approached him, he looked us over with a bemused expression. He didn't recognise us from the tabloids, therefore we weren't worthy. "Can I help you?"

I beamed at him in my own smug manner. Fight fire with fire. Revealing the passes, I nodded to the glass stairwell behind him and the blue velvet rope that stopped us from walking right past him. "We'd like to go upstairs."

He took the cards gingerly, inspecting both of them closely before exchanging a plastic smile. "Very well. Go on ahead."

I didn't let go of Emily's hand the entire time we walked up that flight. It curled around the side of the club like a spinal cord, Emily's black heels tapping on the glass with each delicate step. We were both buzzing with excitement, and I giggled as Emily leaned into my ear and whispered "Like a boss!!" at our smooth entrance. But when we reached the VIP floor, our jaws just dropped.

Some of the big-name Gothamites were here. I suddenly felt ridiculously under-dressed and normal. I could see Vicki Vale talking in the corner of the bar with a couple of her friends, dressed in a skirt even shorter than mine. But it wasn't just the people that intimidated me. It was the whole design. A slightly darker colour-scheme of blue, like the tie of the guy before, and there was a slowly dimming light that switched from pale yellow to white above the tables. There were a few groups of people by the edge of the balcony, looking down on the people below and the mysterious show in the centre, but it was nowhere near as crowded as the sardine packet below.

Wordlessly, Emily and I approached the balcony's edge.

Below us was the illuminated iceberg of the Iceberg Lounge. In the very centre of the room was a miniature arctic circle, with large floating mountains of white amongst perfectly clear waters. Beneath the surface of the water was fading lighting, much like the ceiling above us, which switched from blue to white to aquamarine. It seemed to glow within the ice itself. And if that wasn't enough, there were several penguins that climbed over the ice.

Huh. Subtle.

It was gorgeous to say the least. The most extravagant thing I had ever laid my eyes on and liked. Holding onto the glass ledge of the side, I looked down on 'the little people' and the quacking performers of the Lounge's centre-ring. "This is…!!"

"I know…!!" breathed Emily with a slight giggle to her voice. There was nothing like it. No wonder people were flocking like lemmings to see this place. I watched her expression. She looked like she was glowing. I hadn't seen her this happy in ages. The stress of finding a job and cleaning out the apartment must have really been getting at her. Not to mention Cobblepot breathing down her neck all the time…

I smiled at her, admiring her comfortably. I had been pretty selfish lately. Slacking off on laundry duties, procrastinating the unpacking, letting her deal with our landlord… So tonight, I was going to make it fun for her. The very idea was getting me all bubbly and mischievous. Leaning in close, I kept my eyes on the penguins below and grinned. "So what do you wanna do tonight?"

Emily smiled, looking down at me for one second before nodding her head. "One drink."

I pouted. Right before I could plan to set her up with the cute guy by the bar, too! Opening up my mouth for an unholy whine, I let her have it. "Oooonnnnnne?! But Emily--!"

"One drink!" she hissed at me, still grinning nonetheless. "I've got work tomorrow. Both of us have work tomorrow!"

I groaned. Arkham Asylum. I was terrified. But that terror was like adrenaline in my veins. Like a first date, but on speed. Drumming my palms on the edge of the glass, I turned to her with a wicked smirk. "Why'd you have to remind me of that…?!"

Emily laughed at my childish tone. "Fine. Two drinks…" She eyed me carefully. "And an extra pinacolada for you so that you're too tipsy to badger me any further."

I snickered. The girl knew me well. Years of college and months of partying could let anybody in on my favourite drink. And the hangovers that followed. "Fine…" I agreed eventually. "But it's gonna be two of the strongest, most drunkest of drinks--"

"Jess, 'drunkest' isn't a word."

"Your face isn't a word. BAR PLEASE!"

Emily laughed at my horrible and lazy form of a comeback, slapping me on the arm as she turned around, leaning up on the edge of the glass. Lifting her head and brushing a strand of dark hair from her face, she looked over to the far side of the club. The back wall was a giant fountain, water dripping down the walls behind a layer of glass. Pretty nice touch amongst the dark textured wallpaper and colourful bottles of alcohol. "Alright, let's get over there. God knows I need a drink before I see--"

"Miss Wittingham! Miss Jean!"

Emily stiffened slightly. Disturbed from her relaxed position. I didn't really blame her. Mr. Cobblepot walked over, dressed in a dapper manner with a monocle adjusted in his pale features. Though the guy was a total skeeze, I'll admit only one thing: He had fine taste. Even if that tuxedo couldn't even close around his round belly. He really did look like a modern-day penguin. No wonder he earned that nickname. I'm pretty sure the guy even waddled.

So yes, it was pretty easy to smile when he walked over.

He looked up at the both of us, but it was easy to tell that he was addressing Emily more than myself. "It's a pleasure to see you two here."

Emily managed to be the better girl and put up with him. "Thank you for inviting us, sir. This place is gorgeous!"

He smiled warmly. "Then you'll fit in perfectly, my dear."

Emily's smile was forced. Laughing nervously, she tried to remain polite. Thank God she hadn't picked anything low-cut. "Oh, stop…!" It wasn't flirting. She was being awkwardly serious. At least she carried it off well.

Cobblepot chuckled at her foolishly female guise, taking a slight step closer between the two of us. He nearly cut me right out of the picture in his smooth yet desperate attempt to single out Emily. "So, I take it that you're enjoying yourselves….?"

Yep. I was completely out of shot by this point. And though it was nice to see that Emily was getting some male attention (the fact that she was lacking in man-groupies is shocking, considering how gorgeous she is) was nice, for sure. But not when it was coming from the dwarf of a landlord whose reputation for sleeping around with the waitresses would shock even Charlie Sheen. So I, being the horrible but well-meaning friend that I am, beamed at the black-clad bird in all sincerity.

"We certainly are, Mister Cobblepott." Looking around at the blurred famous faces from papers I never read and news stations I never watched, I nodded over to a particularly tall gentleman. Smiling, I recognised the face as Bruce Wayne (the guy is a stud, by the way, even outside of magazine covers.)  As much as I wanted to scream like a schoolgirl over the wanted bachelor, I played it cool. "We better get going. There's a martini with her name on it and a billionare in need of your attention," I said with a quick nod towards his direction.

As Cobblepot turned around slightly, seeing the brunette millionaire for himself. With a slight scowl, he sighed to himself but covered it up with a slight tug of his waistcoat and looked back up to us with a polite smile. "Of course… My apologies, ladies. I'll let you enjoy your evening. Do promise to see me before the end of the evening--"

"We'll certainly try!" I replied, promising nothing. Ah, the benefits of psychological training involve many things. One of them includes learning how to socialise and steer a conversation a certain way without pissing off any club-owners-turned-crime-lords.

As I found Emily's arm, linking her quickly with a giggle that only sorority sisters could pull off, she laughed back quickly and beamed at Cobblebutt. "Thank you again for inviting us here…!" And, before his flabby little flipper could pull us back, we quickly darted through the crowds and headed for the bar. We got a good five metres away from him before Emily let out a gasp of breath. Her shoulders sinking as she loosened up, she frowned slightly. "That was a close one. I do not want to spend our night being drooled on by that guy…. Even if he did invite us out to this place."

I gave her a look of sincere warning. "Emily. Rule number one in life? Just because a guy buys you dinner or invites you to his private club… does not mean you're automatically obligated to sleep with him…!" Grabbing a pair empty red barstools, the two of us settled down. But before I could break out into a serious rant on the moral code of woman-hood and dating, I grinned and gave her a sly wink. "Unless he's cute, of course…"

Emily snickered, leaning in closer with an equally mischievous smile. "What if he's writing you a song…?"

I grinned. An obvious reference to my musically talented boyfriend. I've told Emily many stories of my rendezvous' with Max. I even re-enact some of it if we've hit the local liquor cabinet or found ourselves completely high on ice-cream, sweets and porn (the porn-high mostly my side of the evening.) "Then you might as well be buried in a Y-shaped coffin. Once the lyrics are done, you're essentially fucked."

She raised an eyebrow, sly as ever and pleased to find a loophole in my moral guidelines. "And yet I hear no 'music of the night' from next door…! How very peculiar…"

I quietened down for a minute. My virginity always struck a note in me and I didn't like talking about it much. At least in public, anyway. I was still smiling at her though, reminded once more of the witty girl I befriended in those very first days of college. "Touché, douche-bag, touché…"

Turning away, still watching me closely from the corner of her eye, Emily got the barman's attention with a slight wave of the hand. He was dressed in a fine tux as well, another blue bowtie around his neck and nametag tucked to his black jacket. 'Simon'. Emily beamed at him, resting her elbows on the countertop and leaning in. The dip of her shirt lowered only slightly as she did, giving a hint of extra cleavage as she smiled. "Hey, Simon!" she said in a pleasant tone. "One appletini and a pina colada. Thanks!"

He smirked at her, eyeing the opening of her top for one brief moment before flashing all his teeth. "Sure thing, Miss." A little cleavage never hurt anybody and it certainly encouraged moral. Those drinks would be over in a matter of minutes.

Watching him as he walked away, she turned to me with a sentimental smile. "So how are things between you and Max, anyway?"

I felt a bit bad for talking about him so much. But I couldn't help it. He was my first boyfriend in a really, really long time and things were going surprisingly well. I smiled in an almost melancholy manner, fingertips tracing circles into the counter as I found myself in thought.

I liked his ginger hair and how I could tease him about it to no end. I liked how he'd kiss me afterwards in an attempt to keep me from harassing him. I liked how whenever I came over to his apartment, he was ankle-deep in concert posters and sheet music. I liked watching him struggle to find the perfect note or pitch, sitting on one side of his bed while I watched him cross-legged from the other with a cup of tea warming my hands. I liked his expression when I interrupted him halfway though a song, the sheet music crushed underneath us as we became intertwined. I liked how he makes these moans when you touch him just right with those freshly-warmed hands, as if he's humming something deep inside his chest. I liked how he made me moan when he touched me just the same, using those practised fingertips to their advantage. I liked being held in somebody's arms for the first time in a forever. I liked how his voice sounded against my skin. How it felt against my skin…

I liked Max.

It's kind of a pity that I don't like him anymore.

"He's… good…" I finally answered, my tiny smile surprisingly genuine. Even by my standards. "He's promised to pick me up from Arkham tomorrow after my first shift. So if I come back to the apartment late, then we've more than likely made a stop at his place along the way."

At the realisation of what I said, and the appearance of the blush on my face, Emily's own grin softened. "Wait. Are you two going to finally…?"

I shook my head quickly. "No, no, no, no! Not yet…. Maybe…?" I groaned in exhaustion. Finally admitting something that had been bothering me for a while. "I, uh… I haven't exactly told him."

Emily frowned. "Told him what?"

I forced a smile, letting out a frustrated sigh through my strained teeth as I got it out of my chest. "That he needs to pop the question before he can pop the cherry."

She smirked. "Oh. Right." But at the silence that followed, Emily's smile vanished entirely. "So… Is that a problem?"

I thought back. Giving a long, hard think about it as I backtracked through our 'time together.' But trying to replay the details of our affairs in a logical, moral mindset actually… hurt. I enjoyed the moment far too much to think of their consequences or the true intensity of them.

"Nah. I think it'll be fine!"

Idiot.

Smiling at her, I was desperate to drop the subject. Besides, I didn't like bragging about being in a relationship when she was still single. "So…" I began, just as I always did when I wanted to move along a conversation. "How have you been? I'm sure that Max knows a couple of guys who would love a pretty little thing like yourself…!" I nudged her playfully in the ribs with the bony point of my elbow. "Though they might come without scales."

Emily narrowed her dark eyebrows at me. "Hardy-har-har." She laughed nonetheless, propping up her chin with her neatly folded hands as she rested her elbows on the counter. After some time, she managed to find the appropriate response. "I'm not as boy-crazy as you, Jess. You should know that much by now. I mean, having someone like that in my life would be great, but… I think I have too much on my plate right now for that kind of thing. Besides! Don't underestimate the single-life…! I get my pick of all the guys while you have to try and control that monster of a libido."

I giggled at her. "Fine, fine! I won't set you up with anyone, then!" Keeping an eye on Simon as he began to serve out drinks, I couldn't help but let my eyes linger around to the other sides of the room. Bruce Wayne and Cobblepot were still deep in some kind of conversation. I smirked, checking the multi-millionaire over for myself. Just because I was in a relationship didn't mean I could stop having fun altogether, could it?

Emily had a wandering eye as well, looking him over curiously. Not so much in my perverted sense, but enough to admire his stature against the shady shrub that was the club owner. "What do you suppose he's like?"

I grinned. "He tops. But he's more than willing to switch around with the right girl." It was a very bad habit I had, like a secret guessing-game inside my head to figure out what people are like in bed just by looking at them. The only people safe from this stranger kind of x-ray vision were Emily and my family. "Toys of choice? … Handcuffs."

Emily snorted. "Not what I was asking about, but good to know…" Figuring out what I was doing, she nodded over to Cobblebutt. "And him?"

Oh, she could be sly when she wanted to. I grinned, tilting my head to the side as a glossy smile came to play. Thinking it over, I ended up in a minor fit of giggles. "He wants to top, but with his gut I don't think he'll last five minutes…! Uses petnames - No, bird-names…! And a lot of 'who's your daddy?' will come into play. Plus spanking…" I said, almost idly as I watched his slightly deformed hands gesture to a table. "With flippers like that, there's gonna be a loooott of spanking."

Emily pretended to gag. At least I think she was pretending. "Urgh! Dude, you need help!" She had to look away from the sight of the two of them together, though she didn't hesitate to glance back over her shoulder. This time it was her turn to change the topic before the mental image could really sink in. (I'll admit, the thought of all that blubber in motion made it hard to look Cobblepot in serious light…) "Hey, you know that USB that was in the box?" I nodded. "It turns out it was that project I did on sewer monsters."

My eyes brightened at once. "I loved that one!" I remember having to pick her up from the corner of the street to walk her home. She was scared out of her mind, swearing that she had seen something, and even though I believed her to the ends of the Earth and trusted her sense of judgement completely… I had to laugh it off. It was the only way to calm her down at the time. But once she was settled down, a bit more relaxed and not smelling of human waste, we managed to make some serious notes about her discovery.

Emily smiled. No doubt that we were reminiscing about the exact same night. Or, judging by the face she pulled afterwards, the lame mark that she got despite her hard efforts. "It got me thinking… Maybe it's worth checking out again. I mean, this job at the Herpetological Studies Department is going to be awesome, but… this might be a cool side-project to follow with."

I turned from wingman to concerned roommate. "Are you sure? I mean, if there is something down there then it's probably dangerous. And I don't want you going all 'Mad Scientist' on me, dude. We've already got enough of them in this town."

She looked just as conflicted. But for different reasons. "Of course there's something down there, Jess! I don't care what Cynical Sanderson thinks!" Her voice was slightly wounded at my poorly thought-out choice of words. Though I meant no harm or insult to her strong beliefs, I immediately regretted my words. "And I swear, nothing's going to happen. I just… I just want to see if anything's down there. Just to make sure, you know?"

"There is something down there."

We turned around to see Vicki Vale herself, her strawberry-blonde hair neatly tied in a bun and leaning against the bar as she waited for the next round of drinks. With a slightly sheepish smile at our stun-mullet expressions. "Sorry for eavesdropping. It's a filthy habit that comes with the job."

Emily laughed politely, brushing away a strand of hair in an attempt to make herself look even slightly more presentable. I didn't blame her. I knew that the Iceberg Lounge had plenty of celebrities (I had seen her socialising here earlier in the evening and of course Bruce Wayne was still being the debonair), but I didn't think we'd actually be talking to them. With a modest smile, she managed to form a sentence despite our initial shellshock. "Yeah, I bet. But… What makes you say that?"

Vale's smile vanished almost completely, the only proof of it ever existing was the warmth in her voice. "Jack Ryder once did a special report on life under the Gotham streets. Most of it was about the homeless that live in the abandoned subways, but he took a look in the sewers to follow up on an old urban legend. Like most monster footage, it was incredibly blurred…" she confessed with a bemused chuckle, poking light fun at her fellow low-brow reporter. "And with Jack being Jack, it was hard to believe him… But things were definitely… suspicious, to say the least."

Emily was practically glowing. Not only were we in the company of the super-elite and beautiful, but Vale was actually supporting the ideas that so many had put down. Waiting as patiently as I could, watching as the reporter asked for another drink, I had to admit I was curious. "How so?"

She chuckled slightly as she thought it over. "Let's just say that for once in his life, Jack was dead-quiet when it came to showing what he found."

"Fair enough…!"  Emily did her best to hide the hyper-enthusiastic smile that was beginning to consume her features. Disguising it as a laugh for Vale's snicker, I found her hand beneath the table and gave her a quick squeeze. As if the two of us swapped thoughts, she came to the same exciting agreement as I did. "I-I don't want to sound rude or anything, but did you want to stay around for a drink with us?"

As Simon the barman handed over the shot-glasses worth of liquor, she shook her head. "Sorry, I can't." Her previous group of friends saw and began to couple over, their heels clicking against the shiny floor. "I'm just buying a round for these guys before I go. The Joker's holding onto some hostages at the rundown circus and we need to get GCN down there ay-sap."

One of her friends piped up quickly. "Good luck, honey!!!"

She laughed half-heartedly, waving her fingertips at the clearly tipsy girls. 'Good luck' is the one most pathetic of things you could say to someone when they're about to visit a crime scene. Smiling at us briefly, she grabbed her purse and began to walk off briskly. "Nice meeting you."

I smiled in a polite manner. "You, too…!"

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

If the Joker was doing something malicious, then Batman would probably swoop in the save the day. Meaning that the clown would be bashed to pieces and put in his place. 'His place' being Arkham Asylum.

AKA My new workplace.

Emily saw my face as the drinks came over. As I reached out for my purse to pay, she gave me a quirked grin. "What's eating you now?"

I pouted. "I'm gonna see that freak at work, aren't I?"

"More than likely."

"Fuuuuuuaaaaaank you…!" I said, quickly brightening up as I handed over the payment to Simon. As he walked away, I stirred the straw of my delicious new pinacolada in a melancholy fashion.  "I think I'm gonna need this drink. And several others."

Emily smiled, lifting her nose in the air in a dignified manner as she scolded me in a petty manner. "Ah-ah-ah…! You don't want to work with insane people while you've got a hangover. We'll just get a couple of drinks and we'll be out."

Ah, Emily. The logical one and designated shoulder-to-lean-on-when-you're-barely-sober. Thank goodness our apartment blocks were just across the street. These flats were going to be scuffed like Hell by the time I reached the front door. I smiled at her, raising my glass as she raised her own, the colourful concoction shining in the right light. "A toast…! To the craptastic future…!"

She smirked. "Whatever happens, happens. And good luck for the morons like us who get lost along the way."

Clink!