2012-08-11 Worst Housewarming Gift EVER

Jim Gordon pulls his trenchcoat around him as it rains and he quickly makes his way inside the run-down Hotel Goldie to find this so-called pop star. He wipes his glasses from the rain and furrows his brow as he walks to Alison's hideout. He glances about at the hotel and anyone nearby, but shows no reaction. After walking to her door, he raps on it.

Inside, Alison is just finishing getting dressed after a shower. She's towelling off her hair still, though she's got a shirt and jeans on. "I'm payed up through the end of the week!" she hollers in response to the knock, over the television - though it's on relatively low.

Jim Gordon raps on the door again, "Police, open up. I'd like to talk to you, ma'am," he says a bit louder and raps on the door some more. But he glances about to make sure nobody is eavesdropping, "It's Commissioner Gordon ma'am. I don't know what you're doing in Gotham, but it's attracting attention. Please open up, ma'am."

"Lord," Alison mutters, rubbing the towel atop her head once more on her way to the door somewhere before the second ma'am and chucking it behind her onto the bed. This is Gotham City, so she DOES look through the peep-hole in her door before she just flings it open -- and even then she keeps the safety chain on when she opens it. Looking out at the Commish, Ali's got an eyebrow raised. "Official business or not, three 'ma'am's is pushing it don't you think?" Bit of a smile, then she inclines her chin. "Can I see your badge, Commissioner Gordon? Girl can't be too careful."

Jim Gordon holds up his bright badget like a law-enforcement beacon, smirking a bit at her comment, "Official business, I've got something to show you," he notes, holding up a manilla envelope he has had in his hand. He lowers the envelope and asks, "May I come in?"

"Just a sec," Alison says quietly, closing the door so that she can take the chain off before re-opening it. She holds it wide open so Jim can get a good look at the room - not great but relatively clean and tidy, especially for a place in this neighborhood. No weapons or drugs or anything laying in plain sight. "So, what brings you by?"

Jim Gordon walks into the room and looks it over once without much reaction, before turning his attention back to her to say, "This has not made the press and I'd like to keep it that way. Last night we discovered an Alison Blaire...shrine of sorts...complete with surveillance photos and other assorted...things," he tells her and takes a photo out of the Hotel, "He pretty much led me right to you, ma'am."

"Charming," Alison mutters - though she's got the good sense to look worried. "I haven't even seen this guy. I've been so busy trying to set some things up, try and get back on my feet..." She shakes her head. "What sort of other 'things'?"

Jim Gordon pulls out photos of the cramped apartment filled with the man's Dazzler collection, "Magazines, CDs, videos, and I believe things he's scavanged out of the garbage. Are you missing any personal items?" he asks, handing over the photos of the man's collection strewn about in the apartment. "We only arrested this guy after a neighbor called to complain about some loud Dazzler music at two in the morning. You're a singer?"

"I am. Work's been... hard to come by lately." Alison sort of tilts her head, looking over the spread of things. "... Ew, I think that's the toothbrush I tossed a couple nights ago!" Quiet horror. "Didn't bring much with me, haven't been keeping my personal affects here when I go out - Gotham doesn't have the cleanest reputation, you know? So... if you've arrested the guy, why come to me? I never knew he was there, and he didn't /attack/ me."

Jim Gordon furrows his brow a bit in concern for the woman, "Have you been getting strange phone calls? I don't think he wanted you to know he was here---outside your Hotel, taking your...toothbrush, collecting your hair, and generally going through your papers in the trash," he explains, "Do you want to press charges? I think we can hold him without bond if you file charges," he states, but doesn't explain the otherwise scenario.

"I picked up a disposable phone a few days ago, but no one has the number yet - well, just a couple of guys I'm trying to get to help with a project. No /weird/ calls," Alison says thoughtfully, rubbing her chin. "Is there any evidence of some kind of plan? The local /commish/ wouldn't be coming to tell me about this stuff if it weren't more serious than it looked - Seriously, what's going on?"

Jim Gordon hmms, "There was blood," he adds slowly with another furrow his concerned brow, "Blood in his bathroom and kitchen. Lots of it. We thought it was someone he knew or...your blood," he tells her with a serious note, "Listen, if you don't file charges or identify some of these items in the pictures...he's going to make bail ma'am. I don't mean to scare you but he might come after you. It's obvious he knows you're over here."

"Commissioner Gordon, I appreciate the concern - I really do, but I just got to Gotham less than a week ago. Until two days ago, I didn't even have a decent place to sleep." Alison actually remembers something, and moves to go back to the bathroom so that she can smear some sort of goo on the palm of her right hand and then tape it up with a roll of gauze -- stuff the Thompson Clinic gives out.

"I got in a fight with a pimp and got pushed out of a second story window of an abandoned townhouse three blocks down. I've been /all over/ the damned entertainment news because it was Roman's /brilliant/ idea for me to come out as a mutant and it's pretty much tanked my career. I'm trying to lay low, I really am. I've been trying to scrape up enough money to keep /eating/, I can't remember the last magazine I read was, and I didn't take any CD's with me when I bailed on LA. If you found blood all over his place, you should certainly be able to pin /something/ on him, even if it's dangerous self-harm. He picked my grody toothbrush out of the trash, what would I even press charges /for?/"

Jim Gordon peers at the woman for her obliviousness, "I realize that you have bigger things to deal with, but I'm going to find out who's blood was in that apartment and I'm going to find out why he was amassing an Alison Blaire collection to fill a whole apartment. Now I'd rather do it with your help. But I suppose I could do it without. But lawyers are going to have a field day," he notes and smirks as he puts the pictures back in the folder she's obviously not too concerned about. "He has pictures of you. Of your Hotel. He's been watching your movements. He knows when the trash is picked up over here obviously and put out. He has made videos of this work and CDs of anything he can find about you. Maybe he knows you. Who knows. Are you sure you won't cooperate with this investigation?"

"You haven't even told me who 'he' is, Commissioner," Alison says, spreading her hands. "Right now, depending on whatever a prosecutor pins on him for motive they've got at least Conspiracy. I /did/ go to law school." She sighs then. "I'll help as much as I can." Picking up the spread out photos, Ali plops down on the edge of her bed to really look at them. "People are going to find out one way or the other, aren't they? Can you trust a Gotham jury to not just say 'Oh, what's the problem here? Bad-luck mutie wanted attention and got it and now she's dead, boo hoo'?"

Jim Gordon frowns at this woman's attitude and he looks slightly upset by it, "The police will help you in whatever way they can, miss. Despite our vigilante...population, there is a stalking law on the books. But he called his lawyer the first foot he took into police headquarters. The man's name is Jonas Brown. He doesn't have a criminal history-- Listen, I want you to keep those photos and identify what you can from them. You think about who you've been talking to and what you've seen...I'll come back and we'll talk again. Alright?"

"All right," Alison agrees. "I'll study these, see if anything rings a bell." She doesn't look particularly pleased about it, mind. "You know where to find me," she adds, trying to force a bit of a smile.

Jim Gordon hrms and gives a nod of the voiced obviousness, "Thanks for your help, Miss Blaire," he tells her, "You call the headquarters if you have any questions," he adds as he walks to the door.

"Thanks," Alison waves - getting up to see the commissioner out. Once he leaves, she takes a great heaving sigh and starts picking up her few things left around the room and stuffing them in her duffel bag. "Now I'm going to have to find another place, hopefully they'll give me my deposit back.... oh, who am I kidding?"

Looking at the pictures, she begrudgingly scoops them up and stuffs them back into the envelope they came out of, then in they go the bag too. "Couldn't pick Metropolis, could you Ali?" she berates herself. "Nooo, you had to get a nice /Gotham/ stalker. Another win!" If Jonas sneaked up on her and through her things HERE, well... maybe that nice Doctor at the clinic will have another suggestion.