1200/Scouting the Campus

Scouting the Campus
Date of Scene:	17 April 2020
Location:	Gotham University, Chelsea
Synopsis:	While scouting out Gotham University from the rooftops, Hellcat once more runs across Batman.
Cast of Characters:	Patsy Walker, Bruce Wayne

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Patsy Walker has posed:
One can only spend so much time at the keyboard before the body and mind protest. Having worked on her manuscript to her heart's content, there came a point where Patsy flopped onto her couch in a display of youthful ennui and sighed from the depths of her chest. A puft of air lifted a strand of her red hair from her face while grey eyes scrutinzed the ceiling.

"Borrrring," proclaimed she to the quiet of her apartment.

Curiosity hadn't managed to kill this cat yet. As such, her interests have led her back to Gotham, home of all sorts of fascinating and nefarious characters alike, and specifically to Gotham University's rooftops. Currently crouched atop the Student Union Building, tucked to the shadow of a corner-set radiator outlet, the Hellcat is observing the early evening flow of student traffic. Admittedly, it's all for research, both scholastic and for her manuscript both. Her suit, cheerily sunflower-orange, hides well enough as long as she stays to the shadow of the radiator. Bright, her eyes behind her eared cowl, as she watches with chin in her hands and elbows on her knees, smiling to herself.

Is this what she could experience if she enrolled here...?

Bruce Wayne has posed:
"Catman's not up here."

The voice comes from above Patsy; Batman standing atop the radiator, staring almost straight down at her. It's a rattling old steel unit that seems to creak when the wind hits it just right; how the Dark Knight is on top of it without making a clamour is a baffling mystery. He's wrapped thoroughly in that long cloak again, the tatterd ends of which are fluttering down the radiator's side and wholly flattening his outline. With the weird evening light and the play of shadows from trees and buildings, it looks not so much like there's a man standing on the radiator as the radiator's shadow crawled up the side and extruded the monolithic figure staring down at Patsy.

Deep set under the cowl's eyeridge, whiteless eyes regard her with a sightless and ominscient intensity.

Patsy Walker has posed:
And then there was Batman.

Uttering a wispy 'eeeep!' of pure surprise, the young woman uncoils from her cross-legged observational settling with a kinesthetic prowess decidedly feline. Twisting through her spine as she launches herself diagonally away from the radiator and across the rooftop, the tumble is taken on a roll through her shoulder and along her spine before she comes up into a crouch. A gloved hand menaces with claws and a snarl decidedly sincere before she recognizes the figure atop the radiator.

"Good //god//," breathes Patsy as she plops to one hip, blowing a hard sigh. "You're the sneakiest guy I know, so blue ribbon for that arrival." She brushes red hair behind her shoulder and does her best to meet those whiteless eyes without cringing. They're creepy, truly. "I know he's not up here. There aren't any lions to wrestle," the Hellcat notes with a quick grin, her aplomb recovering quickly.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Batman twists his neck like an owl to watch Patsy moving. It's enough rotation to make one's own spine twinge a bit as she rolls, tumbles, and finally sits back. Only then does Batman shift to face her, the motion disturbingly pneumatic and lacking a resettling of weight.

"Yes," Batman agrees, in that droll monotone. "You're inattentive," he informs her. There's no real insult intended, just an observational factoid. ...though, the indifference with which he utters it might cue some bristling all its own.

"Catman isn't up here," he repeats. "Raises question of why you're up here. College students not typically hotbed of violent crime."

For someone who uses such clipped sentences and speaks in that growling monotone, it's a little unerving how adequately he expresses a demand for explanation with somthing as minute as a thin press of his lips.

Patsy Walker has posed:
Plush lips purse. "Hmph. You're demanding for somebody so short-spoken. It reminds me of my uncle a bit, he was all serious business, all the time." Patsy pauses to rise to her feet and with a primness, brushes off her suit at the hip and along the backside of her thighs.

"In my defense, this //is// a college campus and I wasn't expecting anybody to just show up out of nowhere. I know Gotham's got a reputation for being kind of rough and tumble, but my chances are better here to not have to worry about being jumped, right?" She lifts a hand in a shrug as she steps far enough forward on the building's roof to see down onto the broad bricked promenade below without the lights below catching at her cowl's ears. "Maybe I'm interested in a campus tour on my own time," the Hellcat volunteers, glancing over at the caped crusader.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Batman hunkers down a little still swaddled in that cloak. As the daylight slips away the subtle luminescence of those lenses becomes marginally more perceptible. Patsy's offhand remarks bounce off of the Dark Knight without any acknowledgement; it's her interest in the college below that seems to prompt his attention.

"Gotham has issues with psychotic criminals," Batman explains, tersely. "Tribalistic. Aggressive personalities. Confrontational. I don't like metahumans in Gotham," he repeats to her.

"Costumed vigilantes create variables. Provoke explosive reactions from unstable elements. Or they're out trying to prove somehing to themselves or to their ... families."

The eyes narrow slightly at her.

"If you're here to make a reputation, I am going to be..." His lips compress into razor thin lines. "Upset."

Patsy Walker has posed:
Word choice and tone make Patsy cross her arms in kneejerk defensiveness. She appears to be taking his words as seriously as the Batman delivers them; reputation as well as brief acquaintanceship at the Gotham Zoo has the Hellcat very much convinced he's someone to be trusted as such.

"I'm really am here to see what the campus looks like without giving aw -- " The red-head stops herself and blushes a little as she deliberately rewords, "Without being a variable in the system just yet. As a //student//," she emphasizes. "I deal with enough crap back in New York City, so I don't need another city's-worth of maniacs sticking their noses in my business."

Says the out-of-townie vigilante nosing around Gotham University's grounds.

"I'm cool enough in the other city anyways," adds the Hellcat with a little smirk to herself.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Batman just stares at Hellcat until that little smirk starts to fade. "Then come tour as a /student/," Batman says, and that inflection rises just enough to almost perfectly mimic her tone and inflection. If he's uncomfortable in his position on the exhaust system, it doesn't show at all. For all Hellcat knows, he could stay in that hunkered crouch indefinitely, forcing her to crane her neck and look up at him.

"Notoriety is inconvenient but not fatal," he says with a tone of faint reprimand. "Masks are for dodging criminals. Not public attention. You draw more attention to yourself if you're seen here. Cape spotters. Social media. Then, criminals looking for you. Either from Gotham or from New York. Someone decides to test your resolve, starts altercation on campus."

"Then if you're not here to join in, I get stuck dealing with it."

Patsy Walker has posed:
"Look, if you're going to get all mincy and rules-lawyering about the whole mask bit, I'm going to point out two things."

Patsy removes a hand from her crossed arms to lift a pointer finger. "First of all, notoriety can absolutely be fatal. Stalkers are very real things with very real scary agendas." Her middle finger lifts, forming a vee of digits. "Secondly, nobody except you has spotted me around here. Even if you're sneakier, I //am// sneaky."

The hand gets put away now. "But hey, I also get it. You're the big kahuna around here. Hell, you've got a reputation in New York, for heaven's sakes, and I've never seen you around there. I'm not here to stir up trouble."

Bruce Wayne has posed:
"As far as you know," Batman corrects. He stares at Patsy. "I'm the only one who noticed you, as far as you know. Because I told you I did," he says.

"I somehow am not concerned about your safety dealing with a stalker." He straightens slowly, still twisted and wrapped in the cloak. "If a stalker proves problematic, CampSec has emergency phones at conveniently located junctures."

Batman walks to the other edge of the radiator and drops smoothly off before ghosting towards the opposite edge of the rooftop from Hellcat's position.

"I don't joke about my rules," Batman says over his shoulder, and turns partially to look at Patsy. "You come to Gotham as a vigilante, you're on your own. Stick to small time crooks. And don't get in my way," he says. His voice is cool, emotionless, and utterly lacking in malice-- but it's impossible to take it as anything but a warning. "Make more work for me and we'll be talking again. Soon."

Patsy Walker has posed:
The toss of Patsy's head at his correction is accompanied by a pull of her lips to one side, unconscious assent that he's not wrong. She watches him travel with a vague awe; the whole bit where he appears to be on roller skates beneath the fall of the obfuscating clock is impressive at heart.

Not only does the Hellcat in her bright costume mark an X over her heart, but she accompanies it with an uplifted gesture of promise. "Scout's honor, I'm not looking to make more work for you. I know it's crazy enough around here sometimes: I read the newspaper unlike a lot of people my age."

A sudden loud bout of laughter below has Patsy looking away from the cloaked figure with a twist of cautious amusement on her face. In this moment, her sincerity about canvasing the campus and its students shows. It's almost wistful, but not quite.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
And in that intervening glance, Batman is gone. There's only Patsy left alone in the deepening shadows on the roof, and the sun's disappearing rays leave the lingering heat from the machinery the only source of warmth as rapidly cooling night winds tug fitfully at her hair.

It is the only company she has as the grim spectre of Gotham's justice vanishes off on his own mysterious errands.