→ sweet dreams are made of this.

[thedominatrix]

Who: Irene Adler and YOU YES YOU
What: Uh- work, shopping, drinking, seeing the sights, picking up chicks, going to dinner, anything you like.
Where: The Vault, various boutiques, restaurants, gay clubs, out on the street, anywhere at all. If you can think of somewhere to be, Irene is quite possibly there.
When: Here all week, baby.
Notes: Just pick where you're setting it and say when/where they are in the header. It needn't be somewhere mentioned here! If you think they could run into each other elsewhere, then go ahead- and if you think it ought to be an arranged meeting rather than a chance one, then that's probably fine too.
Warnings: Sex, drinking, kink, the Vault...and Irene.

Irene's life has changed since coming to Baedal.

Technically, superficially, her life has improved, which she doubts happens to many people once are magically transported against their will to a place where you oughtn't to look too closely at, say, shadows, because there's almost always something that's going to lurk there- but since when was back home safe, exactly?

Here, at least, she can work properly. She likes the Vault, even if she's used to being her own boss. It's enormous and extravagant, dirty and debauched and full of people she likes, whether they're her coworkers or her clients- it feels like a home away from home.

Her job, of course, doesn't stop and start with brandishing a whip. No, she'd get bored too easily that way. It's fun, but it's only what happens on the surface. What she does is single out people who interest her, who can give her something- whether that's money or influence or just fun. She knows how to spot public figures afraid of being noticed, tugging at their suits and sweating- she knows which people don't want her and which want her so much they have to pretend that she's the last thing on their minds. She knows whose CiD she wants to look through while they're distracted (panting, eyes closed, unconscious, sobbing, drugged, drunk- whatever, as long as they trust her and she trusts herself). She enjoys her time at the Vault, and watches a number of acts between working, but never forgets that she's there to do her job.

When she's free in the evenings she can go out, a strange feeling for someone who is so used to being on the run. There is, of course, Mycroft Holmes to contend with, but she really can't imagine him sampling the nightlife. She's careful not to become a regular anywhere just in case, though more often than not she's found in gay clubs. She doesn't often go home alone; in the mornings, she's polite and kind but ensures that the women in her bed aren't in her bed for too long, and doesn't make use of any CiD numbers they might leave.

And then there's money, fashion, food, exploration, a whole new world. Irene loves to travel, and it's not really travelling when you're running. Baedal changes daily and she's barely seen half of the city, or that's what it feels like. She dines out often, alone or with some of the connections (friends?) she's made, and she thanks her stars that her job pays well, because she has a whole new wardrobe to build up.

Irene Adler, therefore, is living again. And if she sometimes finds herself alone, with no distractions, and feels claustrophobic, knowing that she is in the middle of the city and there is no world outside of it, knowing that she can't hop on a plane with a faked passport and be someone else somewhere else, knowing that she is trapped-

-then that is a very minor detail.

Comments

[thedominatrix]

Luckily, Irene is no Sherlock, and perfectly comfortable with physical contact- in fact, she's an incredibly tactile person. She glances down and smiles at Martha.

The completely maddening unexpectedness becomes the mundane...that sounds a lot like her life in general, really.

"Oh, yes. I've noticed that before. Life's always mad, I think- but switching from one sort of mad-" running from the police, false names, disguises, guns and codes and detectives and millions of pounds lost in seconds "-to another-" eldritch horrors, the Fog, a police state, captivity "-is rather jarring."

[captaincocksure]

"Ms. Adler. Thank you." Jim doesn't know how not to react, even when he thinks he's doing a pretty good job of not reacting.

He raises his eyebrows, still smiling as he releases her hand. "Ah. Was yours a household that subscribed to that whole 'children should be seen, not heard' thing? My stepdad tried it." His voice drops a little, mock conspiratorially. "It didn't stick."

[fuckyouboots]

In the meantime, Cindy unzips the dress right there in the middle of the store and picks up another one in her favorite color of red, a strapless number with black lace trim. She has no qualms about stripping down in public. Whoever doesn't like it can just not look.

"Let her," she replies, tugging the dress above her breasts. "It'll build character."

[seeyaduke]

"Oh, I like it too," Ana admitted with a silky grin. She also was quite fond of this women, and she decided that they were either going to be friends or enemies. In her line of work, probably both.

"It's a cage, of course, but at least there's plenty of room to run about and get into all sorts of trouble."

[whattigerscanchange]

There's a moment when Odessa flashes back to someone in her life that she would not hesitate to refer to as The Woman. The Woman who made her see beyond a drive for power. The Woman who made her care for someone else without expecting anything in return. The Woman who... made her question everything, not the least of which being her sexuality.

This Woman isn't her, but Odessa's decided already that Miss Adler is a lovely approximation.

Everything is a straight-forward enough demand for information, and not unexpected. Everything is so much more dangerous in this realm, but that's what makes it exciting. She follows the movement of Irene's hand with her eye, the ghost of a smile curving her lips at the contact. "Not to this," Odessa admits, "but the setting's new."

As to what she can take, the perverse desire exists to murmur something sharp like, I've a prosthetic eye and a face full of scars. How much do you think I can take? But that... That's not something to be flaunted as a challenge, a gauntlet to be thrown. "I believe in this case I take what you feel I deserve, Miss Adler."

[thedominatrix]

"You're joking," Irene drawls, a lopsided grin on her face and her voice thick with sarcasm- not intending to mock him, though. "I'd never have noticed. My family told me to be good and stay safe- I think they thought one would lead to the other- but I've never managed either, really."

[thedominatrix]

Irene takes lazy note of the other woman's body- well, she's there- without any kind of shock. She herself definitely approves of public nudity- especially when it throws other people.

"Red's more your colour, now I see it," she remarks, smiling.

[fuckyouboots]

There's a reason why Cindy likes red. It's a power color and who can ignore a woman in head to toe red walking into a room like she owns the place? Cindy doesn't like to be ignored. No, she likes to be noticed when she wants to be noticed, even if that means taking it past the limit, only because it entertains her.

With her back turned towards the woman, Cindy throws a request that sounds a little more like a demand over her shoulder. "Zip me up."

[toldastory]

Switching from one form of mad, UNIT, to the Barge had been culture shock enough. Not dying, being the head of an infirmary that had you deal with things you'd assumed were fictional, being in charge of helping another person's soul had been culture shock to a supreme degree. Sadly, it had nothing on snapping into the culture shock of being here against your will and having to deal with people who wanted to murder you on top of not having the net of the death toll to allow to catch you.

"Yes it is," Martha admitted to the jarring, and she looked down at her lab for a moment. Jarring to be here and not at some place in London; jarring to not be able to leave or travel if she wanted too. Jarring to be in a police state.

"But we do the best we can, I suppose. Find friends, and the like." Perhaps like now.

[captaincocksure]

"Funny. I was never much of one for either of those, myself. Life's more interesting that way."

There still seems to be a bit of a wait for tables. After a quick glance at the seating area past the hostess' station, Jim turns his attention back to Irene. "I'm also not that great at doing things on my own," he says. "Forgive me if this is forward and you're under no obligation to even consider the idea, let alone accept; I'd enjoy some company with dinner, if you're willing."

[thedominatrix]

Irene likes red- but black is more her colour. It fulfils the same purpose, nonetheless; it's a warning colour, a predatory colour.

In response to what she could swear is an order, Irene bites her tongue, grinning hard, her face half turned away from Cindy. Best not to obey outright. Best never to obey outright.

"Ask the shopgirl," she suggests, picking out a floor length black silk dress and stroking the material, "my character's built to excess."

[thedominatrix]

Irene has been waiting for that. Her smile may well communicate as much.

"Well, now," she murmurs, glancing over, as he did, to the seating area. "That's unorthodox." 

But despite that ambiguous response, as a waitress comes forward, all big smiles, asking about seating, Irene instantly replies with, "Table for two, please."

(People are not toys. People are not toys. ...No, she still doesn't believe it.)

[captaincocksure]

That's unorthodox.

His first impulse is to say so am I, but his good grasp of tactics overrides his bravado; he's just taken care to make it clear he wasn't trying to force his company on her, it wouldn't do to push after that. He's the spirit of a mature, honorable officer in the body of an impetuous, still rather young man, and this skirmish goes to the former.

This one.

"Thank you, Irene," he says as the hostess leads them into the dining room, and it's not at all triumphant--it's earnest, honest. He's pleased with the result, but this wasn't a prize to be won, not some conquest.

They reach the table. "Please, may I?" He moves to pull out a chair for her, smiling.

[thedominatrix]

"You've done it now," Irene notes, pouring herself into the offered chair. Again, it's a matter of enjoying someone else doing things for her. (If he hadn't pulled out her chair, however, she would have pulled out his, just to see his reaction).

"Thank you. Are you sure you rebelled against your upbringing that much? Someone taught you to behave."

[fuckyouboots]

Baedal certainly likes its warned-for and predatory women, doesn't it?

"You say that as if I give a shit. I asked you," she shoots back with an equally as large grin. Best not to give in so easily. Best never to give in so easily.

[captaincocksure]

He smiles at her as he takes his seat, head canting slightly to one side, shoulders raising in a little shrug that says you've caught me.

"Enlistment and a stint at the Academy. They trained me well, I guess. Impressed upon me the need for decent manners lest I cause an interstellar incident. They'd be pleased to know their lessons took."

[selfmadman]

"Copywriter," he corrects, dryly authoritative, as if describing a self-inflicted injury. "A copywriter with very sore feet."

He looks first to the outstretched hand, then at her. Differently than before, intently. He passes a second in indecision, whiskey placid in his glass, an idea trembling in his head.

Almost as if to take her hand he reaches over. His fingers wrap into a fist; he knocks his knuckles three times against the countertop. Measured, sharp. "Know what that is?"

[thedominatrix]

She curls her fingers, lowering her hand slightly and straightening up, watching him knock on the bar with a thoughtful, serious expression.

"Not yet," she says simply, for once prepared to sit back and let someone else drive the conversation, if only out of curiosity as to where it's going.

[thedominatrix]

Irene's perfectly prepared to be revalatory- she is of the opinion that she has less to lose than Steph.

"Well, I could help," she says breezily, waving a hand, making it sound as if it's an offer of no consequence. She takes another drink- "Mm. Bit too much lime. Anyway- I know how these things go. And I'm not bad at..." She pauses for effect, giving Steph a half-smile. "Finding things out, shall we say?"

There; could be a playful offer, or it could be serious. It could even be a threat. At the moment, even Irene doesn't quite know which she's going for- Steph's/Sarah's response will solidify her purposes. It's always best to let someone else commit themselves before you do.

[thedominatrix]

"A Cage of Opportunity," Irene remarks dryly. "Sounds like a reality show." A beat; she glances upwards, considering, her hands on her hips. It's a pose. She's always posed.

"Which is a pleasantly dystopian sort of explanation for it all, isn't it?" She lowers her eyes back to Ana's face. "Though it's not actually a theory I subscribe to."

[controlledvariable]

Steph has barely touched her drink, it's a little too hard to remember things like that when she's focusing on not blowing her cover.

At the threat - and it's definitely a threat in Steph's opinion - she has to bite her tongue to stop from saying or doing anything incriminating. It hurts a little, but that helps her focus anyway and she keeps up the smile despite the momentary panic she's suffering from. This isn't what Steph is good at, and she suddenly feels so stupid for even trying; she should have left as soon as she was spotted.

She should get out now.

"You know what, nevermind," she smiles, keeping up the accent and light tone of voice, "I feel silly enough already, I wouldn't want to drag you into it."

Even as she speaks, as she smiles and tries to look normal, she's subtely checking the exists and sizing Irene up. She's not sure whether Irene will let her go, but Steph is ready to get the hell outta dodge if she has to.

[thedominatrix]

"Good answer," Irene shoots back. There's something pleased but vicious in her voice, with an undertone that suggests she could easily say good girl instead.

She leans in close, mouth at Odessa's ear; "Though I think you might regret it." There's a sudden temptation to nip at her ear lobe, but that's a little familiar. Still, Irene enjoys the moment of proximity and warmth, the smell of her client's skin. It's nice to have a woman avail of her services, and an attractive one at that. "I'll ruin you, dear."

It's a threat and a promise all at once.

[thedominatrix]

"No, you didn't," Irene says, voice low and rich with amusement, holding the dress against herself and swiveling to regard her reflection over Cindy's shoulder, pursing her lips thoughtfully.

"That, dear, was an order, not a request. I know them when I hear them, trust me on this. A request works better with a please."

[thedominatrix]

"Interstellar," Irene repeats, her eyebrows raised up high. Good; she'd made a decent call on deciding he was interesting.

"My my. So when all the other children wanted to be astronauts...you really meant it." Her smile widens. "Of course, I'm basing everything on what I know from my world. Are interstellar incidents common where you're from?"

[whattigerscanchange]

The praise would cause her to glow under normal circumstances, but Irene is decidedly extraordinary. "Thank you, Miss Adler." It suffices for now.

And when her breath washes over her ear, Odessa's eyes slide shut heavily and her body relaxes in tandem with a sharp exhale. She gives the impression of melting, like her knees might buckle, though she does not waver.

I'll ruin you, dear. "You're most welcome to try."