babsqueen

[babsqueen]

Babs couldn’t help the soft huff that left her lips. “Yeah, well, there’s doubles and then…” She glanced over at her again. She shrugged, giving a little a toss of her head so that her honey-blonde hair caught the light, falling over her shoulder in an artful tumble of strands. “Besides, I’m one of a kind,” she said, neglecting to mention how strongly her own daughter resembled her. It was like Jim Gordon’s genes hadn’t really even tried with her. Not that Babs was going to complain about that. 

She took up another wine glass, slender fingers grasping the delicate stem as she set it on the bartop, pouring a glass of white wine. Babs put a napkin down in front of the woman and set the glass on it. She didn’t bartend every night -- if she wasn’t in her office, she would wander around the club, making sure everyone was happy and just socializing. It was one of her favorite things about her job, especially because it enabled her to bask in flirtation and adoration from her patrons. Which really only counted after the male curfew and it was just women. Who cared what men thought, anyway?

She was taking a sip of her wine when the woman said what her name was. Babs barely managed to avoid choking, swallowing a little harder than necessary. She tried to remember if Ed had ever told her Isabella’s last name -- the Isabella that had been run over by a train, that is -- but she couldn’t. “Funny, a friend of mine had an ex by that name,” she said. “You kinda remind me of her, too.” The way an eggplant reminded people of an aubergine. “Barbara Kean,” she added, holding out her hand for the woman to shake. “I own the place.”

And that doesn’t seem weird to you? Isabella frowned. Should it have seemed weird? She supposed it should. But when she thought about the fact that she looked exactly like Kristen Kringle, except for her hair colour, she simply felt nothing. It just... was. She shrugged stiffly. "Everyone has a double somewhere, right?" she said brightly. The thought of getting a DNA test was ridiculous, so she didn't even dignify it with a response.

The other woman explained they usually opened later, and Isabella turned to where she gestured at the stage. "Ah," she said, and she was about to apologise and leave, when the woman offered her a drink anyway, and headed to the bar. Isabella didn't often drink, but she followed the other woman there anyway and sat down. It was the polite thing to do. "Thank you," she said. "I'll have whatever you're having, if that's easier for you." She didn't want the other woman to go to the trouble of getting something for her when they weren't even open, and she wasn't fussy about what she drank. Edward had a much more refined taste than she did.

The woman said she'd have to ask her to leave if her name was Kristen, and Isabella laughed dutifully. "No, no, my name is Isabella," she replied. "So don't worry, you've still got a ghost-free bar."

[babsqueen]

Babs flashed Ed her most charming grin in return. “I do,” she agreed. She had never been one to turn down a compliment. Fortunately Ed understood her addiction to praise -- it was one of the many things they had in common, along with a flair for the dramatic and a penchant for the finger things. There wasn’t anything wrong with any of that, was there? It just so happened they also shared some…more violent tendencies. Who didn’t, really? “Thank you,” she said, preening again with another smile. “Oh, I know.” It just so happened that she loved pink, and it certainly didn’t hurt that it suited her so well. She pouted slightly and shrugged. “No, I’m not looking to dethrone him, although he was mad at me recently. I didn’t even do anything!” Her pout deepened. “I just wanted to ask you about Isabella. She was in my club the other day.”

"Sweet or just plain true." Riddler replied after a moment, a devilish smile pulling his lips. "You know what I think Barbara, you just want to hear it again." He did enjoy working with her. Back before he had to cut her off. He knew as well as Babs that their time working together was limited. What, with her close connections with Butch and Tabitha, and all. But boy, was she ever fun! "I do think that's a fetching colour on you. Stick with pinks it brightens your skin." He advised. "To what do I owe the pleasure anyway? I should worn you. Penguin and I are on good terms so if you're looking to dethrone the bird, you should consider going to someone else."

[babsqueen]

Babs just smiled at him sweetly, taking another sip of her drink. She was sure there were plenty of people in Gotham who just shivered in their boots at the idea of the Penguin’s fury, but she wasn’t one of them. When he started throwing one of his tantrums, he reminded her of those videos of hissing, angry little kittens you saw on the Internet. It just wasn’t that intimidating, no matter how much he wanted to be. Oh, sure -- he wasn’t just a pissy little kitten, he could be a spider, too. Spinning webs and laying plans, until he sprang his trap. But Babs was pretty good at squirming out of close quarters, and besides, she was pretty sure Oswald liked her about as much as he liked any woman who wasn’t his mother. 

“Mhm,” she said, drawing a finger around the rim of her glass and smiling at him again. “You know how much your friendship means to me, Ozzy.” She put her head over her heart as though to illustrate the point. She widened her eyes ever so slightly, as if to say that she was politely shocked that he was raising his voice to her. “Oh, that?” she said. She waved her hand, brushing away Oswald’s anger like it was a cloud of troublesome gnats. “I think butcher is a little dramatic, but…” She laughed softly, grinning at him. “Can’t really expect anything less from you, huh?”

Babs stood up and stepped behind her desk, unlocking a drawer. “Look,” she said. “Maybe your guy wasn’t the paragon of business that you think he was, okay? Before you come barging in her like a toddler who spilled his juicebox, you might wanna consider I did you a favor.”

barbara’s demeanour was often a welcome relief from the seriousness of mundane life — deals to be made, people to kill punish, deals to be made; but not today.  he chooses to ignore the entirely incorrect (and borderline offensive) comparison to herself as the unfortunate little pig on the victim’s end of the wolf’s breath; the comparison of himself to the wolf just might be forgiven. still, a long breath enters his nose: a sigh in advance, not quite yet heaving lungs & outwardly expressing exasperation. 

“ i am agitated, ”  he replies, voice sharp. though he rolls his eyes at the guesses at his unrest, he can’t help but utter: “ the availability of my hair products is none of your concern. ” 

he watches carefully as that nonchalant demeanour persists, the swinging of a leg, the nearly lazy raise of a glass to lips. he can’t tell if that burning anger in his chest is jealousy or exhaustion.  regardless, a friend is a friend ; it would be unfair to judge based on common mannerisms. think about it, oswald — who likes a weasel?   “ in terms of friendship, allyship - i hold you very dearly, you’re aware of this, yes? ” he begins, the pressing together of his lips interrupting his  attempt at a smile. “ but you have caused me a great deal of trouble. that man, last week —  the one you had your butcher of a business partner kill, was incredibly important to business, ” he’s trying to very hard not to  rise his voice, and yet—

“ you may as well have cut my arm off, barbara! it would’ve been worth approximately the same as that clown had to offer! ”

[babsqueen]

Babs raised her eyebrows with mild incredulity. “And that doesn’t seem weird to you?” she said. “If more than one person tells you that you look like a dead woman, I’d say at the very least a DNA test is in order. Didn’t you ever see The Parent Trap?” She snapped her fingers as the other woman mentioned Kristen Kringle. “Yes, that’s her name!” She had vaguely recalled the woman’s name from Jim working at the GCPD -- first because she’d been his coworker, and then when she’d gone missing, until she very much wasn’t missing anymore. They had found her in a feverishly dug grave in the middle of the forest. With some poor bastard dumped in on top of her that Ed had stumbled upon, if she remembered right. 

She shrugged delicately as the woman apologized. “We’re usually open later,” she said. Babs made a vague gesture toward the stage where the repairmen had left their tools; they were undoubtedly on another smoking break, though she hadn’t been paying that much attention to them. Kean genes demanded that she overlook anyone doing menial labor. “Well, you’re here,” she said, glancing over at her again. “Do you want a drink?” She stood up and made her way behind the bar. Regardless of what the woman said, she was going to pour herself a fresh glass of wine. With the new glass in front of her, she leaned her elbows on the bar, glancing at the Kristen clone.

“So what’s your name?” she said, feeling oddly like she should know. She knew Kristen had been Ed’s girlfriend before she gave up the ghost -- or, if she was being accurate, before Ed rather forcefully encouraged her to give up the ghost. Hadn't there been another girlfriend after her? Something with an I. “If it’s actually Kristen, I might have to ask you to leave. I’m not messing with ghosts.” Especially not ones attached to the Riddler. 

Isabella wasn't one for clubs, certainly not after a particular hour, but her colleague had insisted they go out together. You never go out, Isa, she'd said, as they'd been shelving books together during a quiet period. Isabella had considered it, and realised she was right. She never went out. She never went anywhere, in fact. So, she had agreed to meet her colleague here, of all places, just to be a good sport.

The sign said closed, but that didn't stop her from trying the door anyway, which she found open. Perhaps she'd gotten the date wrong? Or the time? She walked in, and saw the place was indeed empty. She was about to apologise to the woman sitting at the table, when she spoke first. She asked if anyone had told her she looked like a dead girl, and Isabella almost baulked. She thought of the train hurtling towards her, the scream of wheels on the track, the bright white light. Something truly awful had happened. And, in an instant, it was gone. Never mind.

"Yes, people do keep saying that," she replied with a gentle laugh. "If I had a dollar for every time someone said I looked like Kristen Kringle, I would be... three dollars up." She smiled. "I was supposed to be meeting a friend here, but I must have got the time wrong. I'm sorry for barging in like this." She felt a wave of embarrassment. "You're obviously not open."

There was that sense, again. That dreadful sense. How unlike her, to get the time wrong. How odd, this woman had also mentioned she looked like a dead girl. But she pushed it away again.

[babsqueen]

@emperorisms -- prompt from here

“There’s no need to huff and puff. I’ll let you come in.” Babs flashed Oswald a sweet smile as she stepped back to let him into her office, before using her palm to swing the door shut. She bumped her hip against the knob to make sure it clicked, then turned to Oswald. “Now what’s up, Pengy?” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “You seem agitated.” She made her way over to her desk and perched on the corner. “What’s the matter? Did they discontinue your favorite hairspray? Did your cravat guy crap out on you?” A grin touched her lips as she delicately swung her foot back and forth, raising an eyebrow. “What? Tell me.”

[babsqueen]

@stepfordisabella -- prompt from here

“Sign says ‘closed’.” Babs didn’t look around as she heard the door to the club open, sorting through the last of the bills at the bar before she went home. Typically they were open later, but repairs needed to be done to the stage, so they were closed early. She was hoping to get Dinah Lance in here. After letting the last envelope fall from her fingers, she glanced up at the woman who entered. Immediately her brow furrowed. “Well, isn’t that just creepy?” she murmured, propping her chin on her hand. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a dead girl?” She paused. “Actually, it would be two of them, I guess, wouldn’t it? Because, what's her name...? And then…anyway.” She waved her hand. “What do you want?”

[babsqueen]

@riddlesman -- prompt from here

“Oh my god, that is so sweet of you to say.” Babs turned her head, preening as she looked up at Ed from underneath her eyelashes. She knew, of course, that she looked gorgeous, but it was always nice to hear. And coming from Ed, she knew it was a genuine compliment. He had such a sense of his own flamboyant style -- and, in any case, he wasn’t the type to be generous with his praise. Which made their friendship rather funny when you thought about it, since she thrived on compliments and adulation. But then again, so did Ed, so perhaps it made sense after all. She held out her hand and wiggled her ring finger. “What do you think? Selina found it for me,” she said, a smirk touching her lips, making it perfectly clear what found meant.