14429/Mobs and molotovs aftermath

Mobs and molotovs aftermath
Date of Scene:	16 March 2023
Location:	Training Facility - Historic Clocktower
Synopsis:	In the aftermath of the gang war in Gotham, Harper returns to the Clocktower to clean up and relax. She walks in on Bette having had a similar idea. The gold-star seeking students of Kate Kane's training get some things out into the open. A specific elephant in the room is thrust into the spotlight. Complicated family dynamics, competition, shared goals and drives are touched upon. A team up is the result.
Cast of Characters:	Harper Row, Bette Kane

---

Harper Row has posed:
    Bluebird ventures inside the clocktower at just about the time when the adrenaline has completely worn off. The shakes, tremors in her forearms and thighs are threatening to quiver twang like she's a string instrument. The brawl in Gotham, involving such a large grouping of prominent gangs, is probably still being swept up by the authorities. But the Birds and Bats have definitely already departed to lick their individual wounds.

    Harper's coming back to the Clocktower because the practical part of her brain does not want shards of glass and the stink of the fight all over her new-ish apartment. "Hello?" She gives her head a shake and more glittering dust of busted windows and windshields falls like magical dandruff. "Heh...I should go as the Blue pixie..." A snort and she starts pulling off her dark coat filled with gadgets and a few new rips. "Or maybe I might have a concussion. Jebus, I wonder if I can find the tapes...I could edit some cool moves for Kate to see. Total win."

    

Bette Kane has posed:
Harper's notthe only one that didn't want to take the stench of smoke and accellerants home. The sound of running water is audible from the showers, the signature red, orange and yellow suit of Flamebird is draped out on the floor on one of the exercise mats, singes, dings and nicks evident in the lightly armored suit.

A few moments pass, and Bette emerges from the showers in a loose pair of sweats that ride low on her hips and a well worn, women's cut West Point t-shirt, her feet bare as she emerges, still drying her blonde hair. She's muttering to herself the whole time, and probably was for her entire shower. "Stupid gangs. I can't believe that guy tried to throw a molotov at m---Ah!"

Bette jumps a mile as she emerges and sees Harper, who she didn't expect. Though, honestly, she should have expected to see somebody, but, well. It's Bette.

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper's bapping the side of her temples, the dampeners in her partial mask glitching. Some manner of distortion or...no, that's input from outside. No wonder she feels so fuzzy. A little pressure at the right place and her eye-mask slide up and her ears are allowed the raw unfiltered sounds of reality. That's water running, and that's a faint dampness to the air from maybe the locker room?

    Bluebird blinks, taking in the discarded outfit and her head tilts at the colour choices. "Oh." She's turning with an open mouth to stare towards the showers like some dumb tourist. Harper doesn't jump-scare at Bette's appearance, but the little grapple hooks on one boot do ~SSCK~ out to grip at the flooring. Almost in sync with one of her eyebrows arching. "Hey! Oh hey!"

    She laughs, flushing in her cheeks, and her mind just ~races~ in its hamster wheel. "Any...hot water left?"

Bette Kane has posed:
Bette is the tryhard. The one who forced her way into this. The one who made Kate take her under her wing and train her how to do this. She's always had a ... not a problem, but a thing about Harper as long as Kate's been training her. It's jealousy. It's attention being shared. It's something that she wants more of, but her cousin's attention is divided. She tries hard not to resent Harper, the other woman has -earned- her place, but maybe that's the whole of it. Bette doesn't feel she -has-.

"Plenty," Bette replies, smirking slightly. "I'm not Kate. She's the one who hogs all the water."

She finishes drying her hair and slings the towel over her shoulder, padding on bare feet to her suit and crouching. "Ugh, fixing this is going to be a chore," she mutters, looking back at Harper. She's quiet for a moment, looking at the other woman. "Are you okay? Didn't get too busted up out there, did you?"

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper chews on her lip. Watching Bette closely, and it's rude not to blink probably, she's more owlish at the moment. This is hard to pull off when one so desperately wants to come off as nonchalant. With a little arm swinging action, she makes a show of draping her costume's coat over an arm like she was a waitress. A small grinning grunt and she detatches her boot accessory from the floor.

    The girl ventures over towards Bette where she is she checking over her own gear. "Yeah, she does doesn't shhhh-uuuhh..." she trails off and bites her tongue. The pain helps focus her thoughts as she comes over to stand and almost loom over the other woman. "Kate doesn't take that sort of stuff out on you as well does she? I mean...losing equipment or repairs?" Harper blows out her cheeks and tosses her coat over a bench, or at least tries to heave it far enough. Gotta do that to get both hands on her hips and cock 'em good. "Hey, we should get medals...gold stars even. That place was freakin crawwwwwling with gangers. I've got some bruises for sure but nothing a chiropractor can't fix. Oh fffffrig...hey, that smoke you threw down...~I~ saw that. Giiiiirl..." A hand comes up to chef's kiss pantomime. "Kane Style."

Bette Kane has posed:
"Oh, she does take that shit out on me," Bett replies sardonicly, standing up from her crouch. "'Bette, there's a hole in your suit, take five laps.' 'Bette, you placed your foot a quarter inch off your mark, fifty push-ups.' Ugh." She snorts a little. "I know why she does it, and I really do appreciate her caring enough about me to want me to be as good as she is, and I want to, but the woman needs to learn how to -relax- for five minutes. Or, you know, just say 'You did good, Bette'."

That last bit sounded pretty bitter. She almost continues it into a full tirade, but Harper derails it with compliments. The blonde blushes and looks away. "I .... thanks. It was what Kate would have done."

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper gives her crop of hair an absent finger combing as she listens. There's a tightness at the corners of her eyes at particularly stinging sounding situations, a faint hiss of an intake of breath as she empathizes. She's opening her mouth to add something, or add some side commentary or commiserate, but she flubs it and mostly does minor facial flinches before giving it another go.

    Harper takes a deep breath and looks away in a completely different direction. "I wonder if my brother feels the same way when I get on his case. The doofus..." She clucks her tongue, the lack of piercing there, or the other places a matter of course during Bird stuff, feels odd at the moment. Thoughts hiccup into her head, and she turns back, offering an awkward fist-bap to Bette's shoulder. "You did good Bette." she says in tone that's faux-Kate, light on the gravitas, heavy on intended comradery. "Permission to enjoy a cool drink that...that lazy punk Harper is gonna get ya. There's a girl that could stand to get some of your conditioning."

    Harper starts wrenching at her wrist-guards so she can shed some weight and gain some flexibility. "Help you with your suit if you want, and you can tell me how good it felt to deal out those flamebird knucklesandwiches with extra hot sauce."

Bette Kane has posed:
Bette rocks just a little at the fistbump, quiet, almost pensive. She smiles wanly at Harper's Kate impression, adding "Not bitchy enough." She sighs a little and just nods. "Sure, that'd be great. Twice the hands make half the work, they say."

She crosses one arm across her chest, grabbing the opposite shoulder. It's a defensive posture. An emotional defensive posture. "You know," Bette starts quietly. "I'm pretty sure you're her favorite." There it is. The elephant in the room. Laid out. "I ....ugh. I didn't want to have this conversation, like, ever," she says, moving towards one of the windows. "I...just forget it. Forget I said anything."

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper thumbs up one clasp, and then the other. Almost as satisfying as those briefcases in movies when an actor click-clacks them open. A smug kind of smile is on her lips, because she's feeling like she's close to getting into a conversation zone. Y'know, like the cool folk. Harper turns her wrist over to get at the last catch with her teeth. The lower half of her inclined face obscurred as her eyes lift to gauge Bette.

    Her brows start to furrow, not expecting what she sees. Certainly not expecting that kind of disclosure. She doesn't follow after Bette immediately, and her tongue probes at the metallic tasting latch at her wrist. Harper exhales a breath and starts forward, head tilting. "You're family. She's your family." Blinking rapidly, Harper gives her head a shake. "No way, hey, waitasecond..." Thinkthinkthink. Harper ventures up a few paces behind. "I am not."

Bette Kane has posed:
Bette stares out the window, half watching Harper in the reflection. She takes her in as she starts unstrapping more gear, her own face expressionless as she tries to Deal With Her Shit in her head. It's not working. She sighs and turns, leaning against the window. Her damp hair is gonna leave a streak and probably piss Babs off. Oh well.

"You're right. I am family. That means she loves me. That doesn't mean she can't like you better. I know," she says, levering up and starting to pace around. "I know she loves me. If she didn't, I wouldn't be staying at her place. She wouldn't be training me, but." She groans, trying to find the words.

"It feels like you're the one she chose, and I'm the hanger on. If that's what she thinks, I don't know. Kate doesn't -talk- to people about this stuff. Either way, it's how I -feel-, and I don't like it." Is she fighting some tears? Probably. It's been a busy night.

Harper Row has posed:
    The imperative to shed the extra gear of her alter ego is a thing. Bette's right there, laying out some words with much more weight than what she's discarding to the floor. And the vulnerability on display, doubled in that reflection, makes Harper feel like a chump, armoured up as she is. She almost hops around after the other woman apologetically, boots and plates gone, and just the mask remaining to pull completely off her head, tugging before her blue hair flops free and partially hangs over her face.

    The emotions look raw, and Harper can't help but respond. She's hesitant, because there's a feeling like she's dealing with royalty in a way, when a Kane is in question. "Your cousin is like..." Harper gesticulates with her hands, trying to frame a picture or build a statue. Stammering, she blows errand hairs out of her face that get in the way. "Listen, I don't know what it's like to wear your boots. It's gotta be different...hard." she gropes for something reassuring to say and her hand reaches out to touch the shoulder. No fist-dapping, shoulder-slappin, just a warm hand to make contact. Whether it's accepted, avoided or slapped, it's up to Bette. "Frig...I'm envious. I heard your were under her wing as well and goddamn. I watched you during part of that big fight, cause...I had to see for myself what you could do." she says with a rusty aftertaste. "Ain't nobody can sneak for a peak into that woman's head and know for sure. I've felt a bonkers need to compete, big time, huge mighty need. The pressure you feel must be fuckin enormous."

Bette Kane has posed:
Honestly, this had gone way different in Bette's head. She expected a lot of snark, maybe some sass, and then she'd just leave angry, probably get in a fight with Kate about it and, then what? Quit? Beg Batman or Barbara for what scraps they could throw her? No, it'd be way more likelythat she'd just quit. Walk away.

That is clearly not what is happening here.

She doesn't avoid Harper's touch. She is, after all, not Kate. She's Bette who is a little more well adjusted. A little. She stops moving and listens. "It...It's a lot. I've heard rumors about Batman and how hard he is, but I think Kate's worse. She's not cruel, just hard. Harder than graduating from West Point." Which she did. "I just," Bette says, reaching up to rest one of her hands on Harper's. "I don't like feeling like this. The only person I want to compete with in this stuff is -me-. I want to be better, faster, stronger for -me-." She pauses and forces a little levity with a weak laugh. "The tennis court is a different animal."

She closes her eyes, trying to steady her breathing, but that forces a solitary tear from each eye. "I don't want to compete with you, Harper. I'd rather be on the same team. Maybe be your friend. Lord knows that you can ever have many doing this thing. I hate that I feel this way."

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper definitely could summon the snark when Batman's name comes up. The cauldron in her mental space that swirls with admiration and frustration into a weird brew. She offers something between a sneer and a wince before she feels Bette's hand on her own. This woman is so unlike what she was expecting. The sharing of her thoughts and feelings appears less filtered and honest and it's very disarming. The blue-haired punk sass or attempts to dredge up a smart-ass comment gets stung when she sees the tears.

    "Frig Bette." Harper hurries to get a bit closer, awkwardly taking two small steps forward, and one back. "Yeah, yeah...absolutely. Gawddammit..." She breathes out a hot breath and goes to clasp an arm around the other woman. "You just keep speaking truths." Harper squeezes, the aches of the day, deflecting bats and fists off arms and legs pushed aside. "Sign me up, okay? Team mates, friends, co-conspirators to earn nods from you-know-who." She takes in a deep breath, as if to steady her own breathing. "I'm definitely on your side."

Bette Kane has posed:
This is, honestly, cathartic. It's not the violent snapping, the sheering off to an end. This is a weight being moved. Not removed, but, perhaps, being -shared-. She manages not not shed anymore tears, reaching up with her free hand to scrub them from her face. "I'm sorry. I'm not usually like this. I'm not Kate, and I don't try to be, but I'm usually better about handling my feelings."

She does come close to breaking when Harper hugs her. ...How long has it been since she's had one? Kate sure as hell doesn't hug, though she could probably use one. A real one. Her breath shudders for an instant, but she keeps it under control. She visibly hesitates a second before she turns and changes Harper's half hug into a full bore, feelings are strong in this moment one. She laughs, it's a little choked.

"We should team up on Kate and drive her absolutely nuts. She deserves it."

Harper Row has posed:
    Harper's mouth offers a lopsided grin. It's been a night, and she's apologetic. Her mind is obsessing over an idea in her head that she might have triggered this. Bette was powering down, cleaning up, and Harper injected a spike of something by her presence just blundering in. How to put that into words as well as Bette does with what's on her mind. Harper taps into some of the understanding maybe of a kind of parallel sense of competition. One thing for sure is that she had built up her own straw-woman of this Kane in her mind ahead of time.

    One moment she's half-hugging, and then it's full on. Of comparable heights, Harper's chin goes over Bette's shoulder, the beautiful blonde hair, quite un-comparable in her mind. Bette is cleaner, glowing and exceptional. Harper moves her arms around, and she's very glad she's free of her own gear. She rubs her palms slowly. "Great, you're a genius ~and~ kick ass." she murmers. A squeezing and an exhalation of breath. "Hell ya." Her teeth flash as she grins.

Bette Kane has posed:
Bette is very glad that this meeting, a bit overdue for sure, did not go the way she had constructed it in her mind. She's the tryhard. The only one of this extended family of vigilantes that inserted herself into it by choice. (Maybe she should talk to Tim about it.) The pressure to not only succeed out there on the streets of Gotham, but to excel enough for kernels of praise from her mentor, is crushing. It's enough to drive anyone mad.

Luckily, it seems like it's not a burden she has to bear alone anymore.

The embrace lingers for a moment before she breaks it. "I think I need more hugs. ... Not as many as Kate does, but it's been a while. Thank you," she says. The catharsis coupled with the sackbeatings that went on in Chinatown makes her feel suddenly exhausted. Bone weary, and it shows. She smiles, reaching out to take one of Harper's hands in both of hers. "Thank you for being nothing like what I had pictured in my head."

Releasing Harper's hand, she smiles. Genuine and warm, if tired. "What this means is we should hang out. As, you know, us, not Bluebird and Flamebird. Go do something that people do. ... Whatever that is. We can figure it out." She gestures towards the showers. "But I've kept you too long. Go get cleaned up, I'll start a pot of coffee and we can clean our gear up after."