Chapter Sixty: Facetiming with Barbara

Barbara Kean waited for Penguin to leave for the office before she'd returned. He'd be gone for a while. Edward Nygma was out doing whatever it was, it seemed, and Sylvia Cobblepot was out performing at a venue in the Lo Boyz's territory. As she suspected, Penguin had insisted she bring her own security detail so nearly half the guards at the mansion accompanied her.

And this left the fortress empty, all with the exception of their housemaid, Olga.

Barbara sauntered into the living room, smiling when Olga brushed the chandelier for dust.

"Hello, Comrade," She greeted smoothly.

The housemaid paused her cleaning duties before she said notably in fair English, "Comrade is not Russian word."

"Shut up, of course it is," Barbara replied with an almost teasing grin. She took off her coat, and threw it over an armchair.

"You shouldn't be here."

"Relax. I know Penguin's out for a couple of hours…I just want to talk."

"I don't know anything," Olga said dismissively, getting down from the chair and moving about the room.

"Listen," Barbara said sweetly, walking after her. "I grew up in a place like this. Large staff of people always coming and going" (She lightly placed her hand over Olga's) "listening. You can't help but overhear things."

Olga considered her words, glancing down at her hand and said with a knowing smile, "Is handsome ring."

"And very expensive," Barbara said with an intentionally dramatic air, slipping it off her finger and handing it to Olga. "I bet it would look fabulous on you."

Olga took it from her and put it on her own hand, admiring it for its emerald elegance before she looked at Barbara, who paid her close attention; "Mr. Penguin. He treats me nice. And his wife always helps me with dinner."

"I didn't fancy little Lark for a homemaker," Barbara said with a sly smile.

"She help with the cleaning. Makes her own bed. Is small things."

"Of course."

"I have warm feelings for them both. But the other one…" Olga said snidely.

"Nygma…?"

"Yes. I don't see why Mr. Penguin likes him so much. He can do better…figure Miss Sylvia does it enough…"

"Wait," Barbara said quickly. "You mean 'like-likes'?"

Olga nodded.

"And our homemaker wifey is aware of this?"

"She support it…and she likes Nygma too."

"Does Penguin know that?"

"She's not as soft on him as Mr. Penguin, but uh…they're benefit friends."

"They're friends with benefits?"

Again, Olga nodded.

"Wow." Barbara breathed; her eyes widened in interest before she gave a small little chuckle: "We will definitely have to revisit that another time. But what about Nygma? Did he say anything about my missing friend?"

"I don't know," Olga returned sympathetically. "But I hear Mr. Nygma talking about special delivery, but nothing come to the house but bill." She pulled out a drawer underneath the desk at which Ed would likely utilize, and withdrew a piece of paper, handing it to her.

"Stocks and bondage?" Barbara said skeptically, looking at the titled paid money order.

"Barbara?"

She and Olga turned their attention to the doorway. Sylvia came in, wearing what appeared to be a red and black one-piece bathing suit underneath a navy-blue coat. She carried a pair of knee-high leather boots, elbow-length gloves, and a half-mask, walking inside with bare feet, her toenails polished black.

"Well, I feel like I must've missed one hell of a performance," Barbara drawled, gathering the image of Sylvia wearing all of that, as well as seeing her Kabuki consorts striding in not too far behind her, wearing skin-tight leather pants, white tank tops, and black eyeliner.

"You're not wrong," Sylvia returned with a small smile. "Boys, take the day off. Olga, would you…"

"Of course," Olga said almost immediately. She dusted the rest of the desk before heading into the kitchen to clean that room next.

Sylvia placed everything she held on a chair, pulling her hair out of a messy bun; the pearls and encrusted sapphires strung throughout seemed to be latched to that one scrunchie as most of them slackened and fell into her expectant hands.

"How was the performance, Girlfriend?"

"Successful. Why are you here?"

Barbara shrugged, saying, "Maybe I just wanted to have a little facetime with one of my friends."

"Should've called ahead then," Sylvia reminded distractedly. "Fuck…The string is caught on my hair!"

"Hold on, hold on…"

Barbara sat on the couch with her, shooing Sylvia's hands away from the stringed faux jewelry so she could help her out. After a moment, Barbara exhaled with exasperation, saying, "Put your head in my lap."

Sylvia blinked: "I'm sorry?"

"I have to reach up to your head, Liv. My arms are getting tired. This will be easier if you just put your head down."

"In your lap?"

"Yes."

"Alrighty-then." Sylvia scooted to the end of the couch and did as the woman suggested. She touched the top of Barbara's mid-thigh boots, adding, "These are nice."

"They're real leather."

"Can't be good for the skin."

"I have very long stockings on." Barbara mused. She twisted her fingers through the strings and heard Sylvia's gasp of pain, however stifled it was. "What amateur did this?"

"Jack."

"Who?"

"One of the twins."

"Huh. This never happened before."

"That's because Oswald normally does it." Sylvia explained.

"How're the Lo Boyz?" Barbara asked. "Did they get in the way?"

"Nope. Contrary to what people believe, they're pretty lax."

Barbara smiled, suppressing a giggle. Sylvia's breath on her exposed thigh tickled; her hands naturally placed underneath her. He could feel her hand just barely grazing the skin of the outermost thigh; whether that was intentional or it was just Sylvia's mannerism of being affectionate or a touchy-feely person as Barbara knew her to be, it wasn't unpleasant.

"Been a while since we got this close," said Barbara nonchalantly. She picked out the last of the jewels, and the strings completely came undone, slinking them out until they were on the cushion.

"I know."

Barbara grinned when Sylvia quickly sat back up, massaging her head.

Sylvia loved Penguin. She liked Ed enough to be his friend with benefits (even, she wondered, if Ed wasn't really tracking that same path), so Barbara briefly pondered the extent of their own friendship. It wasn't a secret that she was irrevocably attracted to Sylvia; what with her bright cerulean eyes, the natural pout of her rosy lips, and her fiery red hair…not to mention the temper Barbara had seen over these past few years. The same type of fire Barbara saw in Tabitha. The same she'd seen in Jim Gordon.

"The last time we had this much fun together, you and I were having lattes and I was asking for an advancement to buy my club," She said sweetly.

Sylvia rubbed her own head for a while longer before she glanced at her once more before standing up and stepping away from her.

"'The Sirens'," She recalled.

"Ah, so you do remember."

"How can I forget? It's a staple in this city now."

"That's flattering, coming from you."

"I don't see why," Sylvia uttered, wincing when she felt the back of her thigh rub against the couch. She glanced down to see why the velvet texture had been unusually so rough, only to realize that she had suffered a very mild burn; it was bright red compared to her normally pale skin—nothing that would remain there for more than a couple of weeks.

Barbara followed her gaze and said knowingly, "Keeping up the act with a little flame, huh?"

"Looks that way, doesn't it?" Sylvia said vaguely. "I'm going to get dressed. I'll be right back."

"I'll be here."

Sylvia briefly left to the bedroom before she came back in jeans, a loose off-the-shoulder dark purple sweater, and bare feet. She still wore the dark, embellished eyeliner in her waterline and on top of her lids; the glittery maroon eyeshadow giving the vibe of a casually-dressed, modern day vampire. Before completely entering the living room, she moved to the kitchen and then returned with two glasses of champagne, one of which Barbara gratefully accepted.

"You make a lot of money at your venue, Fire Dancer?" She asked, lifting and crossing a leg over her other knee.

Sylvia paused before she sat down, saying, "I've not heard that name in a while."

"Jerome had it right."

"Only one of the few things."

"And yet, you found him charming."

"He was charismatic," Sylvia offered helpfully. "And he's also dead. So…"

"Point."

"So, I'll ask again."

"Hmm?"

"Why are you here?"

"I told you."

"Yep, for face-timing. But you knew I wasn't here when you came in, uninvited," Sylvia reminded, smirking. "Everyone who knows my agenda knows I was out of the house, knows that Oswald is out on a press conference, and knows that Ed is not here."

Barbara considered asking Sylvia if she knew anything about Tabitha, and Nygma taking her. But what Olga said, about Sylvia having such a close relationship with him as an amorous friend, retracted that benefit. Sylvia wasn't just a physical person who could have a sexually charged night; there were emotional strings, and giving up a friend as close as she was to Nygma wasn't going to be that easy.

So, she thought better against it.

"I really just wanted to see you. And, actually, ask you something."

Sylvia raised an eyebrow: "And you couldn't do that by phone?"

"Is my presence really that much of an inconvenience?" said Barbara, feigning hurt.

Sylvia looked at her for a moment. She drank from her glass of champagne once before placing it on the coffee table. Following her motion, Barbara did the same.

"It's not like you to visit without calling ahead. You've done it once already this morning. So, is this going to be a new habit of yours, or am I going to, one day, be coming out of the shower and see you sitting on my bed, spread-eagled for me?"

Barbara giggled: "You have a really perverted mind, you know that?"

"I do. Can't help but think you kind of like it."

This comment alone made her heart beat a little faster. Sylvia's words were blunt, spoken without much affliction for however her recipients perceived her tone. Barbara licked her lips quickly, and decided to drink the rest of her champagne.

"How's the club business?"

"Same as yours."

"Successful?"

"Always," Barbara purred. "I have you to thank for that."

"No need to thank me. Just helped out a friend, is all."

"I never got to show my appreciation for your generosity."

"Don't worry about it," Sylvia reassured, waving it away. "It's been a year and some change."

Barbara scooted forward. Such a small action, but it pulled Sylvia's mind to her completely.

"Poor baby," Barbara mewed, raising her hand to cup Sylvia's cheek. "So, distracted…So stressed."

"What are you doing, Babs?"

"Just taking a long, hard look at you."

"Can't you do that without touching my face?"

"Or I can do it while touching your face," Barbara debated playfully. "It goes both ways. We both know you do."

"But why…"

"Shhh…."

Sylvia looked at her, puzzled. Barbara leaned forward.

Maybe it was the champagne. Maybe it was the fact that in this big old house, there were only the two of them, two women, just sitting alone in its vast emptiness. Maybe it was because Barbara had seen Sylvia dressed in a skin-tight black-on-red leotard, or how exhausted she appeared. There was no telling.

Barbara's lips lingered in front of Sylvia's for a second, just waiting to see if the other would meet her halfway. Unknown as to the reason why, she did. And for more than one kiss.

Barbara kissed her softly, sliding her tongue across her bottom lip, adding pressure to the line where they met.

She lifted her hands, caressing Sylvia's face between her palms, pulling her closer. Even as she slipped her tongue inside her mouth, Barbara could feel Sylvia's tongue rubbing against hers, almost defiantly ambitious. That stubbornness was a family trait, evidently. The need for self-assertion, the denial for submission.

How far could she take it?

Barbara lowered one of her hands to Sylvia's thigh, squeezing. It was at this moment that the kissing abruptly stopped, and the redhead's reciprocation stuttered.

"How's that for face time?" Barbara breathed a soft giggle.

Sylvia looked at her uncertainly.

"We can take this a little further, no strings attached." Barbara offered with a sly little smile. The mischief reached her eyes.

It almost looked like she would seriously take her up on the offer, but Sylvia left the couch, shaking her head. She stood in front of the fireplace, peering at the dying embers.

"Playing hard-to-get?" Barbara asked with a knowing smile.

"I'm not playing anything," said Sylvia, shuddering despite the fact she wasn't feeling cold at all. "I think you should leave."

"Did I cross a boundary?"

"Something like that."

"And if I chose not to leave?"

Sylvia smiled inwardly, turning on her heel to see Barbara standing and watching her eagerly. She was pushing her buttons, pulling her strings.

"Why are you here, Babs?"

"Like I said. To bond a little with you."

"Why?"

"Who wouldn't want to be near a woman so high up in the food chain," Barbara whispered, meeting Sylvia at the fireplace. "You're in charge of all of us little people." Her hand caressed Sylvia's chin. "But it's not just that. Who wouldn't want to get closer, hm?"

Sylvia sighed, "Tabitha being with Butch makes you jealous, doesn't it?"

"No," Barbara said, her silky manipulation died in its tracks.

"Then lonely."

"I just wanted—"

"—You just wanted what?" Sylvia questioned, tilting her head to the side. She took Barbara's hands and moved them away from her.

"Honestly," Barbara purred (her smooth, butter-soft voice was back). "I just want to know what you're really all about, Fire Dancer."

"And if I said 'no'?"

"Did you give Nygma this hard of a time when he tried to evolve your friendship?" Barbara asked.

Sylvia stared at her: "How do you know about that?"

"The walls have ears."

"Hm."

Barbara smirked when Sylvia stepped closer to her. They were only an inch away from kissing again.

Most of the time, she could harden her heart. Barbara did it back when she left Gotham and returned to see Jim Gordon kissing Leslie Thompkins. She did it long after the Ogre had captured and manipulated her, and ultimately, freed her from this fixed prison that made her guard her own impulses, hiding them from the rest of society.

And through it all, Sylvia was there. She protected her from Butch and Fish's people when they came after her because of Jim; she was there when Barbara had been sent to Arkham, and all those times that she just needed a friend. Not to mention the fact that Sylvia was the most entertaining person around when people were dying and Bruce Wayne's life was hanging by a thread—and that night included Jerome Valeska, of all people.

It was no doubt in Barbara's mind, no faking or manipulating her own self-gratification, that she wanted Sylvia in the same way that Nygma allegedly had her. She was fiery. She was intelligent. She was comical, and that blunt way she spoke made the hairs on the back of Barbara's neck stand on end.

Penguin's wife? Barbara wasn't interested. She wanted Sylvia Gordon. She wanted the woman who held Gotham's assets and its entire Underworld by the strings while Penguin was in Arkham, alone.

"Is that why you came by?" Sylvia asked. "To 'evolve' our friendship?"

"There are far worse reasons to make an unannounced visit."

"You mean so you could come by, accuse Oswald of holding your ex-girlfriend hostage, and then put a gun in his face?"

Barbara frowned slightly: "You're upset about that now?"

Sylvia pushed her hand away from her face, saying blatantly, "If you thought I wouldn't be, you really don't know me at all."

"Anyone who knows Penguin knows he doesn't like Tabby."

"I'm not talking about the accusation part. I'm talking about how you held him at gunpoint."

"There were other guns pointed at me too, you know."

"And that was self-inflicted."

"Alright," Barbara admitted. "I shouldn't have done that. Okay? I was just worried."

"Hm."

"Tabitha means a lot to me."

"I gathered that too quickly."

"So, you can see why I did what I did?" Barbara asked.

"Hm."

"You, more than anyone else, should be able to understand."

Sylvia considered this and said softly, "I suppose I can."

"Are we okay, Girlfriend?" Barbara asked, brushing the back of her hand gently over Sylvia's face, and her thumb ever so lightly rubbed down her throat.

"We are. But not enough for me to eat your pussy out, if that's what you're hoping for."

Barbara giggled, but the hairs on her arms stood on end, hearing Sylvia's phrasing.

"I'll take it then."

Sylvia smiled when Barbara pecked the corner of her mouth, then deepened it. Olga came into the room just as the kiss naturally broke.

"I'll see you later, baby."

Sylvia watched her leave. Olga looked at her.

"You talked, didn't you?"

Olga shrugged: "I say nothing more than what other people say."

"You'd say less than nothing if you value your place here," Sylvia softly warned. She patted Olga on the arm, adding, "But that is a beautiful ring you're suddenly wearing. I hope the information you gave to her was worth it."

Olga didn't say much of anything, and was certain this was the last time she would ever say anything to anyone else besides her upper management.