12886/Not By Chance

Not By Chance
Date of Scene:	25 September 2022
Location:	Arcade Diner - Park Row
Synopsis:	Harper meets the girl of her dreams--literally. They talk over an afternoon meal in one of the best greasy spoons in Gotham and forge a connection. No electrical engineering pun intended.
Cast of Characters:	Harper Row, Cecily Winters

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Harper Row has posed:
    Here's a slim slice of shelter from Gotham's streets. The diner is serving the pre-dinner crowd, or lunch, because with the overcast day, it's so difficult to tell. And the button-nosed bluepurple-haired girl taking up one of the booths by the window, somehow occupies the entire thing without actually taking up available seating. It's not that she's using her satchel or coat as means for reserving seats, its the attitude she carries like an aura. And she's not completely loitering, she's got a milkshake and a plate of something she's pecking at like a seagul at the fairgrounds. If ketchup is a vegetable, she's almost completing her food pyramid of essential nutrients. Some technical manual is open on the table, which she flips through with her other hand, the fingers of which are bandaged, and perhaps burnt a little. She bears a few ouchies: some bandaids on the face, and forearm of the aforementioned burnt fingies. When a waitress passes, or another patron, she glances at them ~after~ they pass, and her eyes are not full of any open trust.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    It's always an overcast day in Gotham, it feels like. Or rainy. Rainy or overcast. 'Gloom' is a state of existence and Gotham only seems to lose its cloud cover after night has fallen. The diner door opens and a rather well-dressed woman steps in. Not that Gotham has any lack of sharp-dressed individuals, of course, but what stands out about this woman is the fact she doesn't appear entirely human. Sure she's got the smart clothes and even a shoulder holster to go with the messenger bag slung over one arm. But the purple slit eyes and the collection of nine white fluffy fox tails definitely marks her as out of place.

    "Just grabbing a bite," she casually tells the waitress, glancing around the diner for a moment before she's offered a menu--and led towards an empty table that seems to at least be beyond Harper's, given that both women approach her general direction.

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper should have stuck to her routine, that of scoping out fellow patrons when there's far less chance for eyes to meet. Nevermind that she's already furtive to strangers, but with with ordering the plate of starch that she did, and the moo-shake she's awarded herself as comfort food, it's not exactly a great advertisement of someone that makes the best choices for their health. But when that new arrival arrives, there's more than a hint that this individual is different.
    
    Harper's head raises, something tickling at her senses or imaginary radar, and the next thing she knows, she's reaching for her drink to take a pull. And she's ~looking~ first.
    The straw almost goes in her nose, and then her eye, as it curls around the rounded lip of the glass. Her mouth, stupidly open, tries to save face and capture the plastic candy-cane straw as she gazes upon the nine-tailed woman. Is she short-circuiting? Is this a side-effect of her recent electrical mishap trying to connect two disparate systems to share one power supply? Harper doesn't realize just how badly she's staring as the waitress and new patron approaches.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "Is here good?" the waitress asks. It's the table directly behind Harper. A nice window seat to be sure. The woman responds, nodding, "Perfect. Could I get some tea, please?" she asks. Her voice is pleasant enough, though perhaps a bit on the short, polite side. Just as practiced and professional as her attire. Then the kitsune sits. Her seat is the one where she can simply see the back of Harper's head, were she not more intent on scanning the menu. Her tails seem to occupy more of the seat than she does, and she carefully lays her messenger bag on the inside half as not to make it a target for any would-be purse snatchers looking for an easy wallet.

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper breaks off watching Cecily seat herself when she's in danger of doing major chiropractic damage, and turns back to face forward, her tongue craddles the straw finally. She blinks, and she finds herself tonguing the damn think that a Doctor is putting in a tongue depressor and asking her to say ~Ahhh~. "Smooth." she breathes, eyelids closing as she tries to find her inner cool. A hand comes up to rub at her face, obscuring her eyes, and takes a pull on the straw, but the taste is almost too sweet, ruffled as she is. She tries to swallow it down without getting an ice cream headache and keeps facing forward, but ears feel hotter than they should.
    "Nope. Don't do it. What is wrong with you." Muttered under breath, Harper has a little convo with herself, and the devil on one shoulder wearing all the designer leather jabs her with a pitchfork. There's no one on the other shoulder to backhand her with a harp, and so she just can resist turning halfway. Her frowns furrowed, and she tries to play it off as pretty easy-going, but she sneaks a glance at the table behind her just to verify exactly what she saw.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    And what's behind Harper is indeed the fox woman. White ears dipped in ink tilted slightly forward, a mass of fluffy tails that seem to frame her form, and long delicate fingers wrapped in shooter's gloves that turn the pages of the menu back and forth, back and forth. The black tips of her tails twitch and sway back and forth slightly, and then slowly her eyes lift. A piercing gaze, vibrant violets with beast-like slits in the middle.

    A blink at Harper, and then her gaze drifts upwards. The waitress is returning with the cup of tea. Or rather, a cup of hot water and a small teapot with an assortment of pre-packaged teabags. "Thank you," the fox says kindly. "I still need a couple more minutes," her voice is a little warmer, but still a bit on the brief side. Perhaps, it would seem, she is simply used to people staring at her. The joy of living with what may amount to clear mutant-adjacent characteristics.

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper exhales the breath she's holding. It could be her. I might be. But that's pretty crazy. Harper notes the confidence and cool manner, and reaches up to adjust the faux-hawk where it drapes over the side. While she's there, she gives a small scritch, and then rolls one of her shoulders where there's a piercing echo of some past ache. That gives her pause, and her brows furrow again. Harper turns around again to face forward. Her food is cold and looks unappealing in its congealed state. The opened electrical manual is pawed over briefly, turning pages with no real target in mind to settle upon.

    Harper turns around in her seat, to face Cecily more fully. "Look..." she shakes her head, her tone somewhere between an apology and defensiveness at being caught doing something wrong. "I..." she had fully intended to start into it, but looking at Cecily keeps throwing her a curve. "Didn't mean to stare or anything. What I'm trying to say is, hey, we all deserve some privacy." She nods to herself and purses her lips before giving the bottom one a good chew. "So...no worries, yeah? No offense, I...It's just you seem so f-" she blathers and words wither before she rolls her eyes at herself winces. It's like some bad show on the television and the script is just, oof.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    When Harper next looks, the kitsune is busying herself with the practiced motions of tearing at the foil tea pouch she's chosen. Looks to be simple green tea. The waitress seems to have brought her some sliced lemons and a couple little plastic dippers of honey, too. Rrriiip~ Tug~ Plunk. She drops the teabag into the mug and reaches for another pouch, clearly intent on putting it in the small kettle. Harper's voice causes her ears to lift and twitch, but there's no other indication she acknowledges the girl.

    That is, until the last word that's cut off. She lifts her gaze, again meeting those blue eyes. "Familiar?" she hazards a guess at the incomplete word. Her head tilts slowly to the side, but her focus remains on Harper. "I'm afraid I'm not a local, so if there are other foxes in Gotham, I couldn't tell you one way or another. I do end up here fairly regularly, though," she states, simple facts, expression neutral and everything about her seems cool and businesslike.

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper clacks her teeth together and does a little light grinding that would annoy the hell out of a dentist. Meeting Cecily's eyes, the urge to look away is the furthest thing from her mind. Which is quiet unusual unless it's staring down some thug. And she's not even going to try and dwell on how awkward it was to be acknowledged initially during her absolute mess of an initial word-tripping garbage. That's for later.

    Harper nods, to confirm the word and rakes her fingers through her hair again. "No, none that I know of. We get a lot of others, heh. Birds...bats...sure. But foxes aren't that common at all." Harper offers a wry grin and clears her throat and starts to turn around again. "Enjoy your tea, ma'am. No, you wouldn't be local. It wasn't in Gotham where I thought I met you before anyways." She clucks her tongue and then sucks some air between her teeth. And, she raises her hand and offers a little salute or wave goodbye and turns around again. Her eyes slowly close again and she scratches her nails along the open page of the manual.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "I'm aware," Cecily states, giving a wry smile to the girl. "Birds and bats and things," she elaborates. Her head tilts back to the other side, though, and she idly tugs on the tea bag in her mug. It's a good moment for a lull, though, as the waitress does return to check on the status of the fox's order. "Full veggie omelette, please," she states, closing the menu and handing it up to the woman. "Loaded hash browns on the side. I skipped breakfast today," she says with a bit of a sigh. And then she's off again to put the order in.

    "So where did you think you saw me?" Cecily asks towards the back of Harper's head. Should the girl look back, she'll find the woman's fingers clasped together, elbows on the table as she leans forward some. Her glasses fog a little from the rising steam out of her mug but that doesn't matter since she's gazing at the bluebird over the rim of those glasses.

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper is still composing herself, listening in on what the many-tailed woman is interested in, and tonguing some echoes of the vanilla milkshake from her tastebuds. Her eyebrows arch at some of what Cecily says, and Harper doesn't try to jump to conclusions, but does become a bit more thoughtful. There's hints of knowledge there, and before the Bluebird can contemplate further, she's being addressed, and she feel strongly encouraged to respond.

    Harper turns in her seat, throwing an arm up to rest against the seat backing. She leans forward a little as well, and seeing Cecily focusing on her, she needs a brief moment to organize her thoughts so she's less annoying to listen to. She starts to open her mouth, and then lowers her voice. She offers a grin, eyes squinting and wrinkling her button nose. "It's silly. You'll think it's crazy." She shakes her head and reaches up to flick the shaved short part of her temple. "Nah, it wasn't in Gotham, or anywhere." She takes a breath and lets it out, along with her explanation. "I was asleep, unconscious, out of it." She gestures with her hand, like her hand was surfing lightly over choppy waves. "I was having a dream, and it was vivid. I mean, dreams, more than once maybe. Yeah, more than one, and I can't credit where they're coming from. I mean, you just showed up, sometimes in completely different ones, and changed them, or altered them. Very vivid." Harper clears her throat. The word vivid was a quick word-substitute, but serves.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    The strange confession brings a lift to Cecily's brows and her ears perk up too. She sits up straight, unfolding her hands, only to take up a spoon and slowly begin to stir her tea. The other hand occupies itself with adding some lemon and some honey. "I've heard worse pick-up lines," she muses aloud, but smirks at the other woman. "Though this one does seem to be quite unique. And you're not exactly throwing yourself at me, prostrate on the floor... usually pick-up lines come with an air of confidence as well..." she slowly circles the mug with her spoon, letting the sweet and sour get mixed together with the green.
    "Still, could be worse things than an adorable girl paying me such compliments like she saw me in her dreams..." there's a pleasant laugh and she leans back some. "How about you hop over here so you're not craning your neck, mmm? Grab your things, and your food. Let them at least give your table to someone else. I don't bite..." she grins, showing that she's got some vulpine-like teeth to match her eyes and fluff, "...hard."

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper's eyes are arrested by Cecily's ears. She looks like she's got questions, but it's something to tuck for later. "Oh, but I wasn't..." she shakes her head but doesn't finish, the sound of the tea being stirred, or rather the slow movement, the next thing to entrance her.

    "Adorable?" Harper considers the offer, and there's a short pause while her usual defensive and closed-off barriers are circumvented by that strange feeling of familiarity. It feels odd, and that may register on the young woman's face. A conflict of basing behaviour upon intangible dream, that runs against the grain of her usual ways. "Okaaaay. I mean, you're right. We're talking, and it's more fair for others." Harper turns to flip her book shut, slide it in her satchel, look her arm through the strap and then get her hands on plate and chilly glass. Out of the booth and coming around to Cecily's, she offers a shy grin and slide in opposite her. The teeth are easier to notice when she's seated, and somewhat level again. "Oh." Her next words are ~wow~ but that's mouthed rather than any serious air but behind it. Her complexion colours with some warmth and she crosses her ankles beneath the table. "I don't usually mess with someone's private time like this, honest. Eating a meal is kind of sacred. You don't have to answer to anyone, it's just you and what your body needs. Take care of the temple."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "Adorable," Cecily confirms, then takes her time to bring her mug to her lips. It's cooled off enough by now for her to sip, giving Harper ample time to shift her things over and around to the other seat. She can see the little 'wow' even unspoken, and it just fuels her grin. Playful. Predatory, perhaps. But not unkind. "It's fine," she states at the girl's concerns, lowering her mug to the table, curling her fingers around it. Both hands hold it, warming them from the mug between.

    "I often have to eat on the run, so taking some time to sit down and rest and eat and maybe socialize a bit is... welcome," she states, nodding her head politely. "And it's not often I have a cute girl seemingly flustered by the mere sight of me..." she laughs. "I'm Cecily, by the way."

Harper Row has posed:
    There a spark of spine straightening of Harper, to try and deny the fact she's flustered, and has been about socially graceful as a newborn gazelle. "Harper." she murmers, and sheer willpower keeps her from preening at herself. She drops her gaze and sets down her plate, rotating it clockwise a little, as if such a small alteration matters. She also take a cue from you, and take a sip of her own drink, mercifully capturing the straw between her lips more effectively this time. The small flood of cool vanilla is welcome right now, and helps her feel like she can break the ice with a small smile. "I see you're not taking any chances either." Harper waggles her eyebrows and directs her gaze towards the shoulder holster. "Precautions are good, Cecily." Saying her name feels odd in her mouth, but she chalks it up to having just had a mouthful of chilly thick shake. "But, hey, that's very nice of you to say. About me, y'know. Especially since you're so..." Word searching again. "I can understand where you've heard every line, had people throw themselves at your feet. I get it. I'm surprised there's no paparazzi outside the window with their faces pressed up against the glass, yeah? But, I'm glad you took a break and stopped in. Tell you what, let me cover your meal? A thanks for inviting me over while you rest your heels."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    There's a soft laugh, "You can call me Miss Winters if you like," she adds, though there's the barest inkling of it being closer to an order over a request. She follows those eyes to her holster, then back up to meet Harper's. "I'm a security consultant. In my line of work, I'm always on duty," she states, staring down into her mug for a moment then back up. "So... so what?" she asks, curious, seeing if she can help Harper chase the thought to its conclusion. Then she shakes her head. "I'm not Batman or Superman. There's more interesting persons out there for the cameras to chase after. And nobody's going to chase down an office girl even if she's got fluffy tails..."

    The way she chuckles and trails off makes it seem like she's glad for it. "I'm not one that enjoys the spotlight, honestly, and as for my meal... I was going to pay for yours, actually. Provided you decide to eat it," she gestures with her fingers uncurling from her mug towards the cooling, picked-at meal on the plate. Her own arrives in short order, speaking of. A small mountain of eggs and veggies and a plate of hash browns that looks more like someone upturned a bowl of thick chili on it.

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper winces, having forgotten about her meal entirely. "Yes Ma'am." she says with a little impish tone. She raises her eyes to see how it landed, and there's an urge, and she acts upon it. "Miss Winters." And a small nod of her head. Her fingers are brushed against one another before she starts selecting her french fries to make a dent in the amount still left over. As she eats, she conspicuously takes smaller, more frequent bites, rather than stuffing them in like was a dare. She murmers a small chuckle over the topic of more worthy spotlight subjects, and gives a little shake of her head and holds a finger to raise a point of objection. The Waitress arrives and Harper looks out the window, pretending to see something interesting on the gloomy streets until she departs.

    "I wouldn't subject you that kind of vulturish stalking, though to be honest, your tails are more attractive than capes. Interesting, I mean." She chokes down a particularly salty cronchy fry and looks down at her fingers, particularly the worse-off ones and pulls them back from the table, further from your heaping plate of food. They get tugged into her lap in an awkard bundle, and she tries to cover by slouching in her seat like she needs to stretch. "Security? Like, private security? For a big Corporation I bet? That sounds like long hours, Miss Winters. I wish I could recommend some good places, safe places, to unwind from a demanding job, I'm still trying to figure that out myself."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    Another laugh, pleasant, if short. The ma'am seems to have amused her somewhat. She shakes her head though, and glances up at the waitress. "Thank you," she states, bowing her head politely. "I'll take care of her bill, too, by the by," she gestures towards Harper as she slips one hand free from the mug. Then she proceeds to study her small mountain of food, as if formulating a plan of attack that both efficiently eliminates the order while also keeping her from getting messy.

    As she contemplates, she hears Harper speak up again, and looks to the girl. "Oh? You like them? They can be a hassle sometimes, but I haven't gotten them caught in a door in some time now..." she muses, then shakes her head. "No, I make my own hours. Sometimes take bodyguard gigs and other things. I do some organizing for Stark Industries but that's a bit limited at the moment..." Her other hand slips from her mug and she takes up her fork, snagging a slice of egg and vegetables. "Otherwise, consider me to simply be freelance most days. How about you? Electrical studies? You look like you've hurt yourself," she tsks, tone a mix of chastising but caring. She was observant enough to see the book and the bandages even as she first walked by earlier.

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper clasps her hands together and shifts in her seat. "I was a bit careless. I think." she murmers that last in the tone of someone throwing shade at themself. "Yeah, I work for the city. I've got a gig making sure all the lights stay on. And in this town, as you've probably seen, that's kinda important. The full title is City Electrical Engineer. It's one of the few things that called to me strongly. Or at least I thought it did. I thought I couldn't make any mistakes, but I've got the proof I ain't invulnerable or infalliable." Harper reluctantly raises her hands from beneath the counter and turns them over. "And when something calls to me or makes an impression, I guess I'm kind of worse than an addict." A muscle in her cheek twitches. A tenous thread to something in the past.

    She raises her gaze and it's drawn once more to the attributes that set you apart from most in Gotham. "I do like them." she refers to your tails, and her earlier awkwardness softens a little as her blue eyes focus on them with a wondrous quality. "I've...heard of Stark Industries. That didn't get short-circuited at least. Big, broad things are easy. And Stark is big, so you must be pretty special, smart and talented to have a position handling them." She purses her lips and scratches at the nape her neck. "I know of a range you could squeeze off some rounds at, if that's a thing that would help release a bit of stress sometime. Least I can do for you taking care of my meal. I mean, next time you're in town. I don't mean to rush you." Harpers uncrosses her ankles and lets some circulation back into her legs in a different position.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "Like me?" Cecily asks, interjecting when the girl speaks of being called to, or making an impression. "Because you've been hard pressed to keep your eyes off of me all evening," she states simply, confidently. That wry little smirk overtakes her otherwise more neutral expression for a few moments. "And mistakes happen. It's the ones we can get up from and learn from that are the important ones," she says before taking a bite of her meal. She's not going to let it get cold, after all. A good little diner is better than the most upscale restaurant in Manhattan, hands down.

    "I don't do anything special," she waves off the claims, shaking her head. "It's just work. Work is work. People are interesting. And. A range? Hmm. How about after dinner you show me?" she asks in a way that also seems to sound simply as if the request were a formality and the rest was an order. "Besides, I don't really know anyone... intimately in Gotham. A lovely girl like yourself, and a city engineer besides, would make for a lovely tour guide..." she just about purrs, fixing her gaze on Harper over the edge of her glasses again.

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper nods immediately, before thinking it through. Acting on instinct and impulse to the question. You press a button, and it allows current to move down the line unless there's something to impede it or nullify it. Her reaction is much the same the longer she converses with Cecily. Harper looks a bit grateful that you try to assuage her anxiety over the recent mishap. A confessional with a sympathetic Priestess. She takes a breath and releases it slowly.

    "Work is work." Harper echoes. Her face lights up at the idea of continuing things after the meal is done. "Oh, well, I'd do my best." She fidgets in her chair, the seat having previously been comfortable and now somewhat not. Or it's because she's feeling hot. Reaching for the milkshake, she takes another pull until the sound of air is all that comes. Harper puts her hands back on the table and her thumbs rotate her plate this way and that while she grins. She returns your gaze, and her smile enhances her features. She barely feels the parts that aren't happy with extraneous movement. "I'll really do my best. I'll try to keep the shop talk at only a slight hum." A hum like a purr. Harper bites her lip and then sets it free with a quickly fading impression. "You're very interesting, and I won't let you leave town with a bad impression if I can help it."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "So long as you don't have to be somewhere, or rest..." Cecily observes, taking another bite of her meal. She lets the girl finish talking, taking the opportunity to eat some more. A forkful of eggs and veggies here, a nice helping of loaded hash browns there. The sound of the empty shake makes her ears perk and her eyes lift again, meeting those eyes yet again. "You'll be hard pressed to make this town leave a good impression on me," she teases, sitting up and lifting her tea to her lips. "But I appreciate the effort. You've already brightened my day."

    "But are you really quite alright?" she asks, nodding to the bandages, and simply leans forward, reaching across the table to cradle Harper's chin in her hands. "I suppoose you can't simply take time off of work to recover, but you do look a bit worse for the wear. A night out of comfort food to help you lick your wounds?"

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper is quick to try and cover the possibility to be responsible somewhere. Her whole body language is trying to shrug it off. "Sleep, who needs sleep?" and she's trying to laugh, sounding like a dork to her ears. She watches Cecily dig in, and usually watching someone eat wouldn't be at the top of her list. "I know, the city isn't really as welcoming as Metropolis or, well, a lot of others. Yeah." But she flushes when she hears she's made a bit of a favourable impression.

    She freezes in place when you touch her. And her lips part, shocked at someone getting into her personal space. She feels the warmth and pressure and it's a callback to something that makes her past dreams come forth all the stronger. A hot pulse following a cool shock. Not unlike picking up an electrical charge she's received. "I'm okay." she murmers slowly. She doesn't pull away or do anything to interrupt it, just looks at you with an open expression. "Yeah, I came here for the comfort food. Do you think I should take tomorrow off?" she asks, as if for permission or your opinion. The day must be getting to her, as it feels like she's been tensing or carrying a lot on her shoulders, and it's a bit of a load off to just admit it to someone fresh and new. It's quite strange.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    The vixen seems to take her time indeed. She lets the hand remain on Harper's face, palm warm even through her gloves, fingertips soft. For someone that seemed so initially cool and curt, she's so *warm*. Concern bleeds through her expression as it softens, cradling the girl's cheek in her palm. "Mmm, if you and the city can afford it," Cecily muses. "I'm staying a night here, myself, to finish up some business tomorrow before going back to Manhattan. I'm just a hyperloop trip away but I'd rather crash in a bed than rush to the train..." she tsks softly.

    "Besides, if neither of us are in a rush, I've got someone to spend the evening with, don't I?" she offers, ears curled slightly, much like the small smile on her lips. "You can be my little tour guide, a bit, and I can at least see to your hurts. I know a little about patching up burns and things. And besides, don't worry about talking shop..." she laughs. "I could spend days going on about firearms..." she winks.

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper starts to let her cheek lean into that support, her eyelids lowers just a little. "I'm not in a rush." She wets her lips and blinks slowly, soaking up the concern without knee-jerk tearing herself away. Her energy levels don't feel quite as tip top as before. She reasons out some sort of carb-crash, or her injuries catching up with her. "The city'll be here tomorrow, and I've earned a few days off to patch myself up after one misadventure or another." she says quietly.

    Harper offers a small chuckle in return, and then a shy feeling wells up from somewhere, with the thought of relying upon someone else to take care of her. "No rush, I'm all yours. I know you can take care of yourself, but I'd not feel too great if you had to wander down a bad street and get inconvienced by some punks. You've got yourself a bit of a street rat, a little bruised, but serviceable and knowledgeable. Loyal to good folks, like you. Though...I don't know what you can do for these burns and things, but I can't say no to help from yourself."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    There's almost a fondness there, the way Cecily lightly strokes Harper's cheek. The older fox woman nods, smiles, and slowly but surely draws her fingers back. They maintain contact for as long as possible, even lightly brushing over the girl's lips for a brief moment before she's back to sitting up straight in her seat. "Inconvenience is usually the right term, yes," she says with a sigh. "Waste of bullets and laundry soap..." she mutters, looking down at herself. She *is* wearing a white shirt under that vest after all. "Though if I do help you out, you'll have to tell me what happened, mm?" she gives a condition before taking another forkful of food.

    "And I'll give you a good look over. I'm not a triage nurse or anything but I picked up a few things when I was with the NYPD. And working with firearms, well, you learn how to patch up a few burns or three..." she lightly pats her holster. It's almost impossible to imagine this woman as *injured* though, not a scar or blemish on her and not a hair out of place. Even her fluffy tails are immaculate and white, a surprise given that she's from New York and in Gotham.

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper lifts her chin and angles her head to prolong that contact until it must be broken. It's very slight, but could be telling, how she's fixating on a new thing. "Bullets would be a waste, and truth be told, it's more effort, but less troublesome to send them to night-night land rather than a casket. You never know who is perched and watching. And I'll make sure to take that on, rather than you getting...messy. By act or stick consequence." She purses her lips and adopts a sterner expression. "Sometimes I think it would be better to be harsher or apply more finality, but I don't always know their circumstances and how desperate they are. How that desperation makes them do such stupid things."

    Harper reaches up to rub the side of her face where the warmth is departing. "If I start preaching like that again, pinch me. Please. Some of them ~are~ just...monsters it seems. I wish I could do more about it. It distracts me, makes me overreach, over-compensate." She grates her teeth again and winces. "A good look over would be appreciated. You seem to me to be more confident than some paramedics and first responders. You seem more calm and collected than others I know. And they're pretty un-flappable. And that's the only time I'll use that words for some of the Birds."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "Don't worry," Cecily says between swallows. "I do avoid killing if I can help it. Rubber bullets do the trick in most cases..." she pats her bookbag. One may imagine it contains more than, well, books, by the way she's telling it. "I *was* one of the few good cops in the city..." she says, tone almost bitter. But her expression picks up just a little, seeing the way Harper doesn't seem to let go of that warmth. That faint tingle of lingering touch. It makes the vixen smile.

    "Oh believe me, there's some sorts out there I'd rather leave in a bodybag. And some I *have* left that way..." she growls softly through her teeth before occupying herself with more well-laden hash browns. When she finishes, it's just in time to laugh, "Birds? Oh, you're with one of those... hero groups, dear?" she asks, looking the girl over as if for the first time now.

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper nearly bite her tongue. Her brain tries to do a quick rewind of the VHS memory recording in her head, static and warbly distorted voices and all, to replay what she's allowed out of her mouth. "Oh...yeah." Harper blinks rapidly and repositions herself in her seat. Her shoulders come up and tension returns to some of her mannerism. "I've not been a part of the group for as long as some of the others." She winces and keeps her voice more reserved for their table alone. "I can't assist with everything, I've got responsibilities to juggle, but that gives some balance? It's like you said about the spotlight, and I don't want that. That was really smart and wise. I help them out a little if they need someone who ~should~ know a positive lead from a negative. A little expertise from my wheelhouse. God, I don't know why my mouth is running this big a tab. Please don't spread it around. I'd owe you quite a lot if you keep that under your tails." Harper peers earnestly at Cecily. "I can...tru-" She tries and again. "I can trust you, yeah? I have a hard time maybe." Harper's face seemingly goes a bit more haggard and pained.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    Again does Cecily take the opportunity to eat her food while her poor companion struggles with the foot she'd suddenly shoved into her own mouth. There's no judgement, nothing coming from the fox aside from warmth. And very, very quiet chewing sounds. "I don't exactly go around 'heroing' either, but I help where I can," she says simply. "No mask, no flashy name, just a fox with a gun," she muses aloud, "...or several..." she grins. "Do you have a special name or anything?" she asks, genuinely and earnestly curious. "You can trust me. My line of work is full of secrets. My own and those of others."

    Then she lifts her shoulders in a small shrug, "Well, you can *decide* to trust me, in so far as someone simply telling you to trust them..." she chuckles quietly. "I make it my business to protect people. That's all."

Harper Row has posed:
    "Bluebird." Harper leans forward, resting her forearms on the table, fingers tapping. "That's the alias." Harper tries to relax a bit, but she looks anxious after putting herself out there. It's fortunate that Cecily takes it all in stride, and it should make sense to Harper considering things. "I get the feeling that us going to the range would result in me getting an education. I'm not opposed to that in the slightest." She arches her eyebrows and quirks her lips. "I feel like I should, trust you I mean." She reaches up to massage her temples. "I just can't get over what happens when I drift off, I guess it's become an obsession. And then you show up here, and I see you, lovely tails and confidence and grace, and you seem so untainted, as if you stepped out of the dream and were untouchable, like one. You stand out in a city like this." She spills out more, having gone this far, she'll need a gag. "I'm crazy, right? The shock I received, it touched off something from deep down and energized it to life. Maybe I should have taken a real day off since the accident. Next thing I know I'll wake up in Arkham or in a stale hospital room." she jests.

Cecily Winters has posed:
    The moniker earns a continued smile from the vixen, and it seems like Cecily is more than happy to let poor Harper verbally dig herself into a hole. It lets her savor her meal and get an earful of the adorable girl going on with confessions and compliments. Not that the fox is going to file them away to use against the girl later, no. Far from it. She's not that kind of person anyway. Still, the compliments manage to draw a rise of pink to the older woman's cheeks that she manages to hide by bringing her drink up again.

    When she lowers the mug again she seems more composed, "I can't speak on dreams or anything, but I can assure you I'm very, very real." There's a brief, if bitter laugh, though. "Untainted... I do suppose that's a bit of an amusing way to describe me... I do have plenty of blood on my hands, dear, but I do good work. Or do my best. So no, you're not crazy... and if you'd like to stay nearby instead of just dreaming about me, well..." She sits up and flashes a confident smile at Harper, "You've piqued my curiosity, little bird. Do, please, stick around. And if you *would* like an education in firearms, I'm more than happy to provide. It's a rather large portion of my life, after all."

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper nods, "I would. On both counts." She grasps at her plate yet again, to apply some squeezing pressure. Something to occupy her hands. "I don't mean to cause offense and make assumptions. Please forgive me if I did." She raises her glass to drink from, and finds it empty, quickly placing it back to the table, flushed in the face.

    "If you don't mind, I would like to stick around, and if you could afford the time, firearms are something I need to be better at, not just for my own sake." In lieu of being bold enough to touch you in thanks, Harper clasps her empty glass, already bleeding off the cool treat it contained. Her thumbs trace the brim and fingers rub off the condensation. The ~little bird~ comment should raise her hackles, but coming from Cecily it doesn't carry the same sting that an outright tease would. Harper pushes her shoulders back and offers a hopeful smile. Opening a vulnerable channel, for better or worse. The chance to make a friend of this exotic woman, a leap of faith she's going to take. "I don't know if I should hold a gun tonight, with these fingers. But I'd like to stick around all the same."

Cecily Winters has posed:
    "You can sit next to me," comes Cecily's voice once Harper commits to the sticking around. The tone she uses makes it come off more like she's saying that the girl *should* come sit next to her. Then a beat before: "So long as that doesn't make you uncomfortable." She scoots herself over a little further, closer to the window, offering up space on her side of the table--and more than enough space for Harper to run if she truly wants to. She's giving the girl an out, after all.

    "How about this, then," she considers. "We'll wrap up our food here, and then you can show me the range. We can talk a little shop, you can see my shooting technique if you're that curious, as well as learn some basic handling things that shouldn't interfere with your hands..." A moment is taken, her tea lifted, a sip swallowed, before she continues. "...and then we can head back to my hotel. I can see about your bandages and you can tell me all about your... dreams."