Owner	Pose
Kate Kane	'Oh, Katie,' Catherine had said, her eyes big and hopeful. 'I know we've asked -so much- from you when you're -so busy- working on your... freelance... guitaring,' ('You can just say 'performer,' Kate had interjected, but her step-mother had pushed right on) 'but we honestly wouldn't be asking if we had anyone else to turn to! Your father and I are going on a trip, you see - it's to Spain, my family has some lovely property there off the coast of Catalonia from before the Spanish Civil War, it's quite cozy - and we need -some- sort of Kane to represent our interests at the gala!' 'And I'm -some- sort of Kane,' Kate had interjected, which was enough for Catherine to pause and shoot her a very 'I see what you did there young lady' look before pushing on. 'Yes. You're -our- sort of Kane, Katie. So won't you please? Your father is counting on you!' Kate sighed. 'And maybe you could wear that nice dress I--' So that's why Katherine Rebecca Kane is here today at Gotham Hall, the main banquet hall currently hosting a gala to raise money for another Gotham revitalization project, this time aimed at the Narrows. It's a cause she's supportive of, considering the hell the Narrows experiences regularly -- but whether that money will actually go towards anything useful beyond a giant check that looks good as a front page photo is the thing she feels doubtful about. In that much, she's glad she's the one here. It's much easier to annoying, pushy and contrarian when that's what people expect of you and your reputation; it's also much easier to keep track of the money when she has a good excuse to be concerned about it. Catherine, as well-meaning as Kate must begrudgingly admit she is, would simply shrug it all off; go along to get along. And the colonel... ... well, he has other things keeping him occupied. So. Here Kate is, the proverbial black sheep of the Kanes, gladhanding with a group of old Gotham business magnates (and in many cases, their public relations people), being her most charming, glib and incisively witty self in between retreating to the life raft that is the free bar. Today is a veritable who's who of Gotham's finest; even some of the Gotham's founding families - Kate included - can be found mingling here and there. Top donors are expected to receive any number of gifts from the organizers -- a number of which have been prepared from some of the collections of Gotham's most prestigious families. A Cezanne painting, with certificates of authenticity, was the Kane's contribution to the prize list. Right now, the painting is far from Kate's mind: as others indulge in talk or dance, she's taking one of her semi-regular escapes to the bar. For once, she listens to her step-mother, wearing a rare dress instead of her typical suits. As one might expect, though, said dress flaunts most sense of propriety for such events: a sleeveless, backless affair with a deep, wine red body and a plunging neckline only salvaged by the sheer black lace that offers semi-transparent cover from her chest up to her neck, the most scandalous thing about it is mostly just the fact that it puts the pale redhead's tattoos on display -- most especially, that large nautical star emblazoned across her back. She doesn't seem to mind, overmuch. Shame's never been much for Kate Kane. She just drains her glass of whiskey, armoring herself in alcohol as she prepares herself to wade into the fray once more.
Felicia Hardy	Once upon a time Felicia Hardy made a committment. That committment involved her staying out of the city of Gotham. It just wasn't worth the trouble. With the confluence of a whole lot of costumed psychopaths along with a brooding batch of Bats, trying to commit a few civilized -- though admittedly high profile -- burglaries in the city just did not seem to be worth the hassle. And while the city itself might have a classic sort of charm with the preponderance of Gothic architecture, it also comes off as a rather grim, grimey sort of place. Certainly not the sort of place for a fun-loving young woman like Felicia HArdy. But things change. And sometimes you go where the opportunities present themselves. Besides, the fact of the matter is that Felicia Hardy doesn't exactly shy away from a challenge or three. Generally, she finds that it makes her life a little more exciting, a little more enjoyable. All the more reason to seek them out. Which is why she finds herself in Gotham City yet again. This time she's not on the job. At least not officially. She has spent more then her fair share mingling at high society events such as these. In part because they are frequently for very good causes and the platinum blonde has no reluctance to offer her significant financial resources to a good cause. But it is also a good place to go shopping for her next job, her next exciting adventure. Her next penthouse or mansion of the fabulously wealthy to pillage, to pick over and pick up a few pretty prizes. Some she might keep, some she might sell, the proceeds going right back to charities like this one. The real point of it all is the excitement. While she might not be a stranger to these kinds of affairs, Felicia usually attends them in New York City. So if nothing else she is a new face and while a few might recognize her from some of her modelling jobs, she doesn't tend to be so involved in that particular field to be a major player. But that platinum blonde hair draws more then a little attention. As does the rest of her. Of course Felicia is in a black dress, the shimmering black fabric run through with silver highlights that glint and catch the light, drawing the eye. It is draped over each of her shoulders, plunging down in a deep 'V' before being cinched around her waist. Then the fabric plunges down along one leg all the way down to her ankle, though the other leg is almost completely revealed byu the long slit that goes all the way up to almost the top of her thigh. She allows herself to be pulled into discussions now and then, pausing to chat pleasantly before moving on. Her only genuine smile might be when she peruses the various donations on display -- some of them quite genersou indeed and after lingering for quite awhile looking over each of them in turn, the white haired thief -- turned ardent charity enthusiast, at least for the night -- finally turns towards the bar and, entirely coincidentally, sidling up next to the woman already parked there as she places her order. "Enjoying the evening?" Felicia asks Kate archly.
Kate Kane	If someone could embody the Gothic atmosphere of Gotham City, it would be Katherine Rebecca Kane. From the way the dark red of her dress makes bare skin that looks like it's never seen the sun stand out that much more starkly, to how the scarlet red of her short hair spills with effortlessly enigmatic style over one of her eyes as she turns to look Felicia's way; to the way the kohl lining her eyes makes those vibrant greens stand out all the more as they flutter in a bemused blink. Or the way a faint smile touches the right corner of dark, red lips as she digests that question. Kate Kane is undeniably a product of Gotham City. ''Enjoying the evening?'' But Felicia -- Felicia is undeniably something new. For a handful of seconds after that initial blink, Kate doesn't say anything. Felicia is a decidedly new face -- and an unexpected one. For a moment, she just takes in the sight of the other woman dressed in black, taking in the striking mane of white hair, the shimmer of that dress, the rich, amused sound of that voice. The second passes by, and Kate ducks her head, a magnetic kind of smile more fully blooming on dark lips until pearly white teeth flash. "Good drinks and a good cause," she finally answers with an amused tinge to her tone, "what's not to enjoy?" She shifts, pale leg emerging briefly from the slit of her dress as she turns to lean her back against the bar countertop. "I'm not as great as the whole song and dance as some of my friends here, though. Sometimes you just need a time out, you know? I've only got so much stamina." She looks sidelong towards the platinum blonde beside her, scarlet hair spilling to the side as she tilts her head. "I haven't seen you at one of these before. And believe me, I'd know; I'm a notorious gladhander." Her smile broadens, just a little. "Kate. Kate Kane."
Felicia Hardy	While Felicia might be new to the Gotham scene, one thing is pretty much clear; when it comes to the trustfund brigade and old money, there isn't really that much of a difference between Gotham City and New York City when you get right down to it. At least that's the platinum blonde's takeaway from the evening. But if Felicia is a new face, Kate doesn't quite fit in with this crowd either, outwardly, though the name at least is familiar to Felicia it would appear, a light of recognition settling in her eyes as she dips her head, lips curved in a faintly sardonic smile. "Of course," she says at once. "You're the one who donated the Cezanne painting. Quite the generous gift," she comments archly. And possibly one of the intriguing little items that Felicia has had her eye on. While she tends to favor jewelery, she's not opposed to the odd art heist. She even keeps some of it. "Felicia Hardy," she offers in return, making her own introductions. She has no answering donation here, nor does she expect any real name recognition so goes a little further. "I'm only visiting Gotham. I'm usually up more New York way. But since I was in the city I managed to get myself an invitation," she offers up. Then the white-haired woman raises her glass towards the redhead, a mischevious little smile playing over her painted lips. "Good drinks and a good cause. Seems like reason enough to do a little celebrating," she purrs lightly, taking a sip from her glass. "I suspect I know what you mean though. There is only so much pleasant mingling one can stand sometimes. How fortunate that the bar is close at hand," Felicia notes slyly, one finger idly running around the rim of her glass.
Kate Kane	'Not quite fitting in' is something Kate's gotten down to an art form. And now here's someone, standing out just as much. Kate can't help but find her attention completely diverted Felicia's way as the other woman speaks. Maybe like just calls to like. Elbows resting on the bartop, slumped leisurely but not ungracefully back against it, pale fingers curled light around a shallow glass of whiskey, Kate very likely would have been more at home in a suit; she still makes that dress feel like a natural fit through the casual confidence she carries herself with as she turns an arched-brow look Felicia's way. "Cezanne's work was ridiculed when he was alive and now some of them are worth millions," she notes dryly, reaching a hand up to pull scarlet bangs away from her smoky gaze. "It's not that uncommon a story, I guess, but I always think about it. I figure he'd probably enjoy one being used for something actually worthwhile, rather than gathering dust, unappreciated." A second passes, and then a brief grin flits across darkly-painted lips. "That, or maybe I just have no idea about the true value of art." With that, she shifts again until her hip is leaning against the bar. Facing Felicia fully, she lifts her glass to tap the rim against the white-haired woman's, a small smile lingering at her lips. "Felicia," she repeats, as if to test the way the name sounds on her lips, swirling the amber contents of her glass as she considers the other woman's words. "I guess I'm just not much of a performer," she lies, quite easily, if the lamentable sigh she performs perfectly after is any indication. There's a glitter of impish amusement in that green gaze of hers as it turns back towards Felicia. "... At least, not without good inspiration. Good drinks, good cause, that's usually reason enough for me to put in the old college try." She drains that drink as if for emphasis; setting down the glass, she follows up that thought with another: "... Good company's a pretty nice bonus, too." She pauses just long enough before she adds, pointedly: "Care to do a little celebrating with me on the dance floor, Felicia? We can talk, get to know each other," she offers a charmingly lopsided smile here, "I can bore you to death with shallow art trivia..."
Felicia Hardy	Fitting in is overrated. Of course, in fairness, Felicia isn't really designed to fit in. Not emotionally or physically. That platinum hair alone would make her stand out, but coupled with her features, that body, well, she is always going to stand out in a crowd and she seems to eagerly embrace that particular fact. Then there is her personality as well. She's never going to be the shy, retreating type. She has a little too much fondness for thrills, a little too much fondness for adventure and excitement for that. She likes to be the center of attention, and she doesn't always care just how she goes about getting there either. A true testement to the notion that there is no such thing as bad publicity. While Felicia might not specialize in art thefts, one doens't operate in that world at all without learning a little bit about it. Some of that is so to know what sort of targets are worthwhile. Some of it is more for cover, to be able to talke about art in a convincing fashion. To blend in when absolutely necessary, or perhaps to ensure that you absolutely stand out. Either way, the plantinum blonde seems to know a little about the subject. "I don't know. Value is all in the eye of the behold, right? For some it might be a magnificient example of the form, priceless beyond compare. For others it's just paint on a canvas. And others only care about the fact that enough people value it to make it worth a significant amount of money. I'm not sure any outlook is more valid then another. Except mine of course. I'm probably right," she asserts, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly in amusement. She steals another sip from her drink, leaving that glass painted ever so faintly with the vibrant red of her lipstick before setting it back on the bar once more, turning more fully to face Kate, casually leaning there herself which does all sorts of interesting things to her dress. "What you see is what you get, hmmm?" she asks archly. "There is a certain amount of charm in that. One always knows where one stands afterall," she points out with a low, rich laugh. The question draws an immediate reply, and the platinum blonde reaches out to take one of Kate's hands in her own, turning towards the dance floor as she does so. "Mmmm, given the company I would absolutely like to take this to the dance floor," Felicia asserts, glancing back over her shoulder, fingers curling around the other woman's as she smiles. "And don't worry about me. I am quite the performer. I shall hang with baited breath on your every word..." she promises lowly.
Kate Kane	''I'm not sure any outlook is more valid than another,'' Felicia says, and Kate looks - momentarily - curious; fascinated. ''Except for mine of course,'' Felicia follows up, and that fascination falls way to a brief snort of laughter. "Then I guess I'll take your word for it," Kate says around a brilliant little grin. "As long as your word's encouraging all my bad art decisions." She jokes easily, casually. But her attention is completely on Felicia. She leans towards the other woman in a subconscious show of interest; her brows lift, one pale fingerpad planting on the rim of her emptied drink to trace a slow circle around it as her guest from New York speaks. Her green gaze only drifts from the way those vibrantly red lips move as Felicia leans, falling towards the way that black dress drapes on the other woman for a few quiet, lingering moments. There's something about her that leaves a strange impression of trouble to Kate. Which just makes Felicia all the more interesting to her. "I've always gotten a lot of mileage out of just putting everything on the table," says the disreputable Kane heiress; she lifts one pale, tattooed shoulder in the light roll of a shrug. A grin dances at her lips as the other woman laughs, offering up a solemn follow-up: "I promise, Felicia: you'll -always- know exactly where you stand with me. I've heard about subtlety; it's not for me." But that offer is answered by way of a hand slipping into her own; the redhead draws in a slow breath, that confident face holding as her fingers wrap around Felicia's own. She catches that little glance over the shoulder; it's a look that could kill. She's drawn to it all the more as she makes her way to the dance floor with the platinum blonde. "What a vote of confidence," quips Kate, her words underscoring the way she slips one arm around Felicia's waist when they reach the dance floor. Pale fingers twine into Felicia's and squeeze, as she begins to move with slow, graceful steps to the music. She's experienced with the gala scene. She knows exactly the right moves. And she knows, most importantly... to learn the way her partner is moving. How well they mesh. Her hand squeezes at Felicia's waist; she draws in close as she starts that waltz, dark lips hovering next to her partner's ear. "Then I'll be sure to whisper sweet nothings of postmodernism into your ear 'til your knees go weak..." She enjoys this sort of dance. The literal, and the figurative kind.
Felicia Hardy	It is not that Felicia is completely incapable of subtlty. One does not pursue a life of crime, of being one of the most effective cat burglars in the world, if one is completely incapable of discretion. The plantinum blonde does not, for example, going around screaming at the top of her lungs that she's a thief. She does not casually break into most of her targets by smashing windows and knocking things over until she finds what she wants. She can be quick and stealthy and leave nary a trace of her presence, her passing, in her wake. But there is also a slightly perverse part of her that goes out of her way to set off the alarms now and then. Who lingers at a crime scene specifically to get a little notice. Who glories in the thrill of the chase and all the excitement, that surge of adrenaline that it brings. Definitely a creature of extremes at times. That's her. An answering laugh escapes Felicia as she leads the way ot the dance floor. It's not like one of Gotham's notorious clubs -- or even New York's. There is no tight press of bodies, no surging beat that is nearly impossibly to talk over. But that doesn't keep the platinum blonde from holding Kate's hand high. "That seems fair," she replies, finally slipping out onto the floor with the other woman, one hand slippping around her in return. Those lips remain quirked into that shameless little smile. "I solemnly promise to not only encourage all your bad art decisions, but all of your bad decisions and impulses en masse. If you're going to be naughty, or wrong, might as well do it on a truly grand scale," Felicia asserts. The music might be classic, the dance formal and while there might be something about the blonde that suggests she would be more at home under flashing lights and a powerful, primal beat, she slips into the redhead's arms with practiced ease, finger's lightly playing over that exposed back. The murmured words in her ear draw another low, husky laugh from the woman, leaning in herself, that warm breath tickling skin. "I am going to hold you to that," she murmurs, amusement rich in those low words. "Go on, talk arty to me and make me swoon," she teases.
Kate Kane	A creature of extremes. For someone who refuses to live life on anything but her own terms, and yet lives a second life behind a mask because to do otherwise would mean all the structure of her life would just fall apart... Kate Kane knows exactly what that's like. Maybe they're both creatures of extremes. That side of her life is far from her mind right now, at least, as essential as it is. Right now, her focus is on the blonde in her hands who is doing such a damnably fine job of making sure that smile on her lips never goes away. Her focus is on the tantalizing promise Felicia offers her, and how it makes her unable to suppress a brief, rich laugh, eyes shutting as she shakes her head. By the time those green eyes reopen, they're practically glimmering with amusement. "You make a hell of a sales pitch, Ms. Hardy," she answers warmly, and winks. "I think my step-mother would hate you." She lets a second pass, before she confides: "Don't worry; that's a major plus in my book." And here, she shares with Felicia a conspiratorial smile. "Please, -please-, be as shameless as you like." The throbbing vibrations of the club are where Kate Kane was - and still is - most at home -- it makes it easy to tell it's the same for Felicia, too. If anything, that similar affinity just makes it all that much easier for Kate to find a proper rhythm to lead them with. She pivots smoothly across the dance floor, high-heeled shoes gliding in a graceful circle across polished marble. You can only get so close with these formal settings -- but Kate certainly draws closer than she rightly should by the standards of high society's sense of propriety. Felicia all but purrs. Kate feels the warmth of that breath brushing across her pale skin, and she can't suppress the way her dark lips bloom into a grin, eyes hooding as her lips brush brief across Felicia's ear. "Are you sure you can handle it?" she teases right back, and as she does... ... her hand in Felicia's lifts to suddenly and gracefully spin the other woman outward until they are at literal arms' length, connected only by the grip of their fingers. She blows Felicia a kiss-- and then looks to -tug- her back into a spinning dip, drawing them both low until dark, smiling lips hover just above Felicia's. "... My thoughts on Dadaism can be -titillating-."
Felicia Hardy	It's true, her motives for being here are far from the purest around. Sure, she made a suitably large donation to the cause. She might not exactly have the financial resources of the Kane's at her back, but as it happens, crime does pay. Rather well. And she isn't opposed to sharing her ill-gotten wealth with those less fortunate. Certainly not when she has more then enough to keep her in the lavish lifestyle that she has grown accustomed to. She is here because she was in Gotham City and a little bored. And while clubbing or the like is certainly one alternative, given that she is spending a little more time in the city as of late familiarizing herself with the wealthy local marks felt like a better use of her time. In that respect the evening has hardly been a waste. Then are just as many frivolous, boring, tedious rich people in Gotham as in New York City. And they deserve to be divested of some of their valuables. She has a healthy list of potential targets in that respect. She certainly didn't expect to find any of them even vaguely interesting. But here she is now, spinning about the dance floor with a beautiful and intriguing redhead. It's nice to know, even jaded as she might be, there can still be a surprise or two in store for her. It might not be quite her sort of dancing, but there is still a joy in movement, in swaying to the music. To another body pressed close to her own, moving in time to that rhythm, no matter how formal. Not that she hesitates to press the bounds of decorum to their utmost limit, not quite draped on her partner, but coming awfully close. Even before the little revelation about her step-mother. That draws a low, rich laugh from her, one brow arching playfully as that little confidence is shared. "Well, I have to admit I rarely need any encouragement to ask completely shameless," she admits, the corners of her mouth curving upwards a little more. "But I'm not sure if I've ever been on the receiving end of a step-mother's disapproval. That is the sort of thing that a girl should have a chance to experience at least once, so maybe I had better push my luck and she just how disapproving I can make her." Clearly she is a woman who appreciates a challenge, formally issued or simply taken up. Either way seems to suit her. Felicia dances with that graceful, practiced ease and when she's spun out, she twirls away easily, her dress flairing for a moment, rising up her legs dangerously, spinning even in those heels before coming to a sudden stop. When that kiss is blown her way that free hand slips up and makes as if catching it before tucking it down and away into that deep 'V' of her cleavage, winking playfully at Kate. Then she spinning right back in, caught in that dip. One arm slides around the other woman's back while the other climbs her neck, fingers sinking into, burying and curling in the red locks of Kate's hair. "I wouldn't have it any other way," she murmurs with a low, sultry laugh. And she lifts her head just enough so that the faint distrance between them is abruptly bridged, her lips brushing a lingering kiss across Kate's mouth.
Kate Kane	''But I'm not sure I've ever been on the receiving end of a step-mother's disapproval.'' "Trust me," confides Kate, quite matter-of-factly. "There's nothing more satisfying." A second passes. "Well. There's a few things." There's something addicting about finding a good dance partner. It's more than the literal dance itself -- that comes in so many forms all on its own. It's -all- of this. The back and forth. The little flirtations and challenges. Getting into the flow of that natural, easy rapport. Learning all the little ways you click, one step at a time. Kate's very good at the dance; it helps, like now, when she has a partner that inspires her, that makes that confident, magnetic smile of hers come easily, that makes her strive to impress. The entire world just seems to melt away until it's just her new, captivatingly white-haired friend, and nothing else really matters, not the looks they get or the murmurs shared. Just the way Felicia Hardy catches her kiss, and returns effortlessly back into her arms. But there's always that heart-pounding moment of uncertainty. That little bit of trepidation that lingers even for as many times Kate's been at this song and dance. She feels it, the second she dips Felicia low, even as she whispers those teasing words to the other woman -- she feels it as she hovers, her lips inches from Felicia's. Green eyes stare into green eyes for a few long, silent moments as she feels those fingers curl into her short locks of scarlet. One hand looped supportively around Felicia's waist, the other presses against her stomach, riding up toward the beginning of that plunging neckline, where Felicia oh-so-safely stored her little kiss. And for a moment, even now, she isn't sure if she read the steps of the dance right... ... not until Felicia's laughter reaches her ears, and those lips find hers, and that faint uncertainty melts away like mud in the morning rain. True to her promise, Felicia enables a brief moment of scandalous behavior; and true to hers, Kate feeds off it with aplomb, deepening that kiss for a few lingering seconds that will surely amount to a few scandalized proclamations of "that Kane girl is at it again" that Kate scarcely cares to notice. She just enjoys the moment, she enjoys that kiss, she enjoys the feeling of Felicia's dress beneath her fingers as they hook against that neckline. And she makes sure that kiss lasts right up until she draws them both back up, and only breaks it then, her forehead bumping against Felicia's, her smile lingering. "Y'know," she begins, conversationally, her voice dangerously low, "... There's nothing step-mothers disapprove of more than encouraging their step-daughters to bail early on their social obligations..."
Felicia Hardy	Ahhh, the thrill of the chase. For Felicia, so often that comes down to rooftop antics, from provoking the local hero set, or the local authorities, from playing her little games with stolen valuables and the possibility of recovering them, either possibility less enticing then the simple pursuit that is sure to result of all the gamesmanship. She does love it. It is part of what keeps her coming back again and again, that keeps her pressing her luck despite the fact that she has no real practical need for greater wealth. That all her jobs at this point are really just keeping score, adding to her tally. While in one respect the dance floor might not be quite the same, in another it is one more chase, one more game of cat and mouse. One more way to spike that adrenaline, to feel the little shivers, the little goosebumps that rise on the flesh with excitement. The back and forth. The playful teasing. The flirting. And of course that first kiss. "It does sound like it would be quite a bit of fun," Felicia murmurs, voice low even if rich with amusement. "Though I would definitely have to question you if you thought there was nothing better," she teases in turn. It might be the risk, the uncertainty of just what might result from taking such a chance that lends this sort of thing a big part of it's thrill. Everyone suffers those moments of doubt, and surely the platinum blonde thief is no different in that respect. But not a hint of it shows on her expression, in the rich timbre of her voice. Those fingers of hers don't flutter uncertainly in the redhead's hair, only curling decisively. And if she is aware of any disapproval that their dance floor antics might provoke she certainly gives no sign of it. They could be entirely alone for all the self-consciousness Felicia shows as she clings to the other woman, locked in that kiss that threatens to grow increasingly heated. Then they are upright once more, though still pressed far closer together then propriety might suggest, one of Felicia's legs casually hooked around the other woman's. By rights she should probably linger a little longer, should make another sweep of all the little pretties donated for tonight's event. Make a little shopping list for her stay in the city. But that's not going to happen. She has promised to be a bad influence, not just to Kate but to her own professionalism it seems. "Oh really?" Felicia offers up, her voice a low, teasing purr once more. "Well Kate, all I can say then is that social obligations are seriously overrated. Forget them. Spending the rest of the evening with me somewhere a lot more fun then this is totally worth any lecture your step-mother might give you," she promises with a wink. A bad influence to be sure.
Kate Kane	If there's one thing Kate knows, it's that propriety is overrated. But maybe she's just as addicted to the thrill as Felicia is. It certainly seems that way in this moment, as she lingers so close to the blonde after that kiss. Drawn upright, Felicia's leg hooked against hers, Kate's free hand has drifted down to grip firm hold of the other woman's thigh to encourage a hip-to-hip closeness that has no place in a high society event not hosted by the Hellfire Club. She draws in a slow breath, and shuts her eyes, for a moment just enjoying the warmth of another body so close to her. The right corner of her lip quirks upward as she listens, with an open-mind, to Felicia's very reasonable suggestion, that she certainly did not help to prompt. "Huh, you don't say," she muses wonderingly, as if she had never thought about the idea of shirking responsibility that way before until Felicia came into her world. Her fingers climb gradually up Felicia's leg, following the slit of her dress like a guidepost. "Let me think about this for a second..." And, as part of her consideration, Kate tilts her head, capturing Felicia's lips again for a second - very thoughtful - kiss. To judge if it would -really- be worth the lecture, of course. One has to be sure of these things. It's only when she's good and ready and has made her hard-thought decision that she just barely breaks that kiss, lips lingering a fraction of an inch from Felicia's. "Okay," she whispers. "Take me somewhere a lot more fun, Felicia Hardy." And what a fine bad influence she is.