Cupid's staff at least was on target. They were all effusive, all too happy to welcome on someone new as if they'd always been besties. Kat even got a few of their numbers out of the various exchanges, between pieces and parts and makeup, Cupid's staff were all too thrilled to get her properly outfitted for the night's theme. They seem to even take Cheeks in stride, simply calling him 'her little friend'; Gothamites are apparently used to some very weird encounters.
Kat indeed was adopted as a dominatrix, and luckily given her own staff earpiece (a handy tool, through the regular coordinating chatter she could tell they were looking for someone who fit the OLD description of her current look, gas-mask included). A duffel bag, too, handed to her for her old gear, and she was even given a locker room she could drop it off, though she likely wouldn't be using it. Heading down the first large maintenance elevator she was accompanied by some partygoers who knew the way into this location specifically for the lower floor. "First time?" asked one, joined by a second, both wearing old-timey domino masks and latex black-and-white striped tops reminiscent of a shootout or a western jail break, fishnets and very little else. "We come here every Thursday night... can't be beat. Or well, I guess that's what we come here for, huh?" they both laughed as the doors dinged for the lower floor. "Don't forget the password... tonight I think it's 'Gambler'. Come find us if you want a scene..."
Another lucky break. The decor here was entirely different, plush, quiet, dark red and purple carpet, low lighting, and a neon sign that led onward that depicted two bunnies in flagrante delicto. The pollen, which had thinned to nothing inside the elevator was thicker here than in the upper floors, clearly to encourage those who had made their way down. The effects varied depending on who was breathing it in, of course, but mostly resulted in a warm, pleasant feeling, soothing off the edges of emotions like anxiety, or fear, or sadness. It introduced feelings of happiness, comfort, a distinct notion that everything would work out. Notably, it did not force anything; it simply enhanced feelings that were already there, hopes, dreams, the deeply buried desires that were so often overcome and beaten down or crowded out by life. The pollen made it seem as if anything were possible, as if one's day was suddenly the best, that everyone was a friend.
There were exit doors prior to hitting the dungeon itself, thankfully, sneakily hidden in the velvet curtains that draped the walls. 'Staff only' again on some of them, and 'Private' on others. Muffled sounds of cheering and music behind some of those, clearly private party rooms of a sort. Once entered, the staff rooms were free of the pollenated air and Kat would find those happy, yummy, distracting feelings decidedly wearing off rather quickly as she progressed onwards into the kitchen and bar storage areas, far more sterile, boring and utilitarian, which clearly must have another elevator. On her earpiece, they were still looking for her on the upper floors, until she heard one of them say, "Hart's handling it. Staff can stop looking, search is off."
