15946/Two blondes walk into a gym...

Two blondes walk into a gym...
Date of Scene:	25 September 2023
Location:	Grant's Gym - Amusement Mile
Synopsis:	Dinah Lance's workout is interrupted when Gwendolyn Poole washes up from torrential downpour outside. This girl knows things. Dinah, however, just rolls with it. That's Gotham, baby.
Cast of Characters:	Dinah Lance, Gwendolyn Poole

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Dinah Lance has posed:
It's another dreary, dark Monday for Gotham City.

Not just dreary and dark because it's Gotham, like, dreary and dark even /for/ Gotham. Rain pounding, wind howling, shrieking down the concrete canyons that are the city streets.

It's almost enough for Dinah Lance to hear over the rhythmic thuds of her strikes impacting a heavy bag in Grant's Gym, and it definitely explains why she's the only one out in this downpour to get a workout in. She's, of course, not dressed up in full on fishnet and leather Black Canary mode, but a dark blue tanktop and cotton gym shorts with trainers and ankle high athletic socks hardly disguise her from anyone who knows her.

Judging by the darker shade of that top between her shoulders and the gleam on her legs, she's been battering this poor bag for a good while. And that pace isn't slowing down any, a flurry of precise punches and elbows, only for her to spring back and deliver a side kick that makes the chain supporting the bag squeal in protest.

Some people might think Dinah Lance is angry at the bag. But anyone who knows her knows that sometimes she's just this intense.

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
Gotham. Gotham freakin' city! Gwen has spent a lot of her time since getting to this world in New York. New York is cool and all (It has Spider-man! And more importantly, Ghost Spider!), but Gotham holds a special place in her heart. She can't even count how many times she watched the old, 80's Batman movie growing up, not to mention the classic tv show. Sure, the later stuff was cool in it's own right, but nothing beats that childhood nostalgia.

Seeing it in person is a bit different, though. The poverty and roughness looks so different on a tv screen or comic page. Here people were hurting. She was doing her best not to let it make her usually chipper mood suffer. She got here before lunch, and enjoyed it at the little corner diner Batman tended to get secrets at when masquerading as Matches Malone. He likely doesn't here, though. She'd quickly learned that a lot of her knowledge didn't carry over. But, either way, the diner was there...and the food was terrible. So, she was hungry and now soaked, as the rain pelted her slender form unforgivingly, like the city was punishing her for being a trauma tourist.

She was about to give up and hop the train home when she spotted the Gym. THE Gym. So, the girl ducks her way inside and peels back the wet hood of her soaked pink and white hoody, and turns to take it all in with wide blue eyes and a lopsided grin. Success! The hoody is zipped-up over a bootleg Batgirl t-shirt (Dress the part in Gotham!), and white skinny jeans with white and pink Converse. Once inside, she makes her way through the mostly empty gym, soon following the thud-thud-thud of fists on canvas. And there she is...Black Canary. Or...POSSIBLY Black Canary, the girl reminds herself. She leans against the side of the empty boxing ring and watches for the moment.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah's focused, intent on her training... but she's also got finely honed street sense, mostly from hunting Gotham's muggers, and the occasional but now far less frequent times someone thinks it's a good idea to try and take down the nice woman who runs the flower shop. At the same time, she doesn't want to scare some random potential gym customer of Ted's off by snapping around like a viper when they come in the door.

She delivers another little flurry of kicks, punches, and then a kneestrike that lifts her off the floor before she rebounds back from the bag and reaches out to stop its swinging with a ragged gasp.

She glances over her shoulder with a lopsided grin, free hand lifting to brush a lock of her bangs from in front of those bright eyes, "Oh! Hey! Uhhh... I don't think Ted's around to sign up anyone new, so..." She tilts her head in mock thought, "I think you might need to be an /unofficial/ gym member and we just won't tell him you got a workout in without paying. I mean, it's not like the weights drive up the electricity bill and /I've/ already got the lights on..." She flashes an impish little grin, fingers lacing together, arms stretching high above her head, back arching in a slow stretch that rocks her onto her tip-toes, "I mean that or you're coming in to escape the monsoon, in which case we've got coffee, tea, and some instant cocoa /somewhere/ around here."

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
Her bright eyes admire that stretch before she catches herself. The pretty teen looks more like a drowned rat then anything else at the moment, her pink and blonde hair plastered to her forehead and cheeks, and her hoody soaked through. She unzips it and peels it off with a laugh.

"Thanks. Yeah, it's...crazy out there, isn't it? It usually get this wet in Gotham?," she asks, curious. Her accent is more midwestern by the sound of it. She also kicks her wet kicks off for now, planning to return for them and her hoody later on. "Some cocoa sounds -incredible- right now, honestly. Thanks. Really."

She moves closer, turning in a circle to take the place in as she does so. "Cool place! I always wanted some place like this to work out in. 24 hour fitness just doesn't have the same -vibe-, y'know?" She stops about five or six feet from the taller woman. "I'm Gwen, and -you- are Dinah lance, huh?" She pauses briefly and mentally reprimands herself. "...You run a flower shop, right?," she adds, as a way of not making her look like a psycho.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah frowns ever so slightly... because this girl is /soaked/. Drenched. She looks like she escaped a shipwreck instead of walking down the street. Her tongue clicks off her teeth thoughtfully and she springs into motion, practically bounding to the lockers like a gazelle until she comes out with a big terrycloth towel and gives it a wave, "Here! At least get your hair dried off." She glances towards the door of the gym with a frown, "Not all the time. I mean, usually it means someone's summoning a demon or built a weather machine or something... I mean, not as often as seems to happen up in New York, but we /do/ get the occasional crazy magician down here."

She blinks as her ID is guessed in an instant, offering that towel out, "Oh god... are you a process server? Am I being sued? Listen, that guy /grabbed my butt/ and how was I supposed to know he'd bounce off that table like that and land on a dart someone dropped on the bar room floor?"

She groans and pinches the bridge of her nose, "Listen listen, I just... c'mon... can you pretend you didn't see me?"

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
"Yeeeeah, I have a place in Hell's Kitchen," the girl says with a laugh as she snatches the towel out of the air. "So I know a bit about that kinda craziness." She begins drying her hair as she keeps talking. "Spent the last hour wandering the street, taking it all in. Gotham, I mean. That's why I'm soaked through. My shoes are like walking lakes right now! But Gotham is incredible!"

"I wouldn't last five seconds in a government job, don't worry. I think I saw you in an article or something." Mabye something's been written about her? She hopes so! "...Anyways, you're kinda hard to miss. They sure don't grow flower shop owners like you where I'm from!"

She grins impishly and finishes making her hair less soaked, wiping down the rest of her body through her shirt and jeans as best she can.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah sighs and bobs her head, "Yeah, that writeup about 'Gotham's flower queen who won't poison you and also her plants don't eat people'... I think it was supposed to be a joke someone was pulling on their editor and then they went and published it anyway." She heaves out a resigned sigh, only to hop up and settle herself on the edge of the boxing ring, "Oh god! You've been walking out there this entire time? I'd offer you my canoe but I haven't actually got one."

She smirks and shakes her head slowly, "Yeah, I dunno, hopefully it'll ease up in a few hours. I don't want have to call a cab but I am /so/ not riding my bike home in this."

Eyebrows perk and she grins, "Oh! Hell's Kitchen? I know some people up that way, maybe we'll cross paths on /your/ turf! You can show me where a good pizza place is. Everyone says New York's pizza is great, but so far it's just been... like... pizza?"

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
She laughs at the canoe comment, and then snap-points at the mention of the article she absolutely has not read. "That's the one!"

"Well, I can think of worse company, at least!" She nods to that last bit about pizza, then, grinning. "The pizza is good in New York, for sure. Very foldable and stuff. But it's all about where you get it, y'know? There are more pizza places in New York then there are supervillains!" THAT says something! She walks over to where Dinah is seated, standing in front of her.

Dinah Lance has posed:
There's a soft little whistle from Dinah at the sheer number of pizza places that must mean, head shaking slowly. "Well, okay, now I'm kinda /glad/ I don't make it up there all that often. That many pizza places to try sounds like a recipe for needing to do /way/ too many situps."

She grins and crosses her arms, "So! What can I do for you, Gwen? I mean, aside from the towel and all. Or do you just wanna ride out the storm? I can give you a lift somewhere after so you don't need to walk around in those drenched shoes. You staying at a hotel? I mean, a change of clothes to avoid a cold is something someone responsible would suggest."

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
"I'm crashing at this super sketchy hostel near the Narrows. I think the dude who runs it is gonna try and sell me or something," she says casually before shrugging. "A ride would be awesome, but...for now I'm happy just relaxing! Plus, you promised cocoa!," the girl says with a teasing grin. "And how can I turn down the prettiest flower lady in Gotham when she offers me cocoa, hmm?"

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah frowns just a touch, those bright blue eyes going a little icy, a bit distant... a little 'That possibility isn't as ridiculous as it should be'. She nods slowly, "Well, you didn't pay too much did you? Because I think I know the place you're talking about and I'm sure I can find you a better place to crash for a few days. I know some people."

Long legs swing and lever her off the edge of the ring, springing onto her feet and sauntering towards the juice bar with a look over her shoulder, "Okay, one cocoa coming up! ...It's probably going to be marshmallow-less... I mean, it /is/ a gym, the guys aren't real big on stocking marshmallows." But Dinah clearly knows her way around, kettle turned on, a couple of paper cups laid out, the canister of cocoa powder produced and several generous spoonfuls deposited into each cup while she waits for the kettle to boil.

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
"I would say I can take care of myself, but now I'm curious about a better place, I gotta admit," the girl says with a smile. She turns to follow Dinah as she makes the cocoa, leaning against a pillar to watch her work. "No marshmallows? Well, I can suffer, I guess," she says with a playful tone, brushing some pink hair back behind her pierced ear.

"I have a bit of money stashed away and stuff, but not enough to blow it on ritzy digs."

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah grins and rolls her eyes playfully, "Not even any whipped cream! I mean, it /is/ gym cocoa, you need to temper your expectations compared to home cocoa, right? Or fancy coffee shop cocoa. The world of hot chocolatey beverages is vast and complicated."

She shakes her head quickly, "Oh, no no, not ritzy digs! I mean, if nothing else you can crash here, Ted's not in town and won't be back for awhile as far as I know, so I can cut you a pretty good deal on rent. Hell, if anything I should pay you since you'll basically be guarding the joint when I'm working."

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
She considers that a bit. "Eh, I have a bit too much stuff to crash here," she says, eventually. "Y'know...all my guns and swords and grenades," she says in a playful tone. She is, of course, being absolutely serious. "But moving to Gotham might not be a terrible idea. Even Hell's Kitchen rent is startting to really get up there."

She brushes her fingers back through her less-damp but very unkempt hair, now. "But it'll need to be pet friendly. I sometimes take of this...dog," she says. "But a friend and I kinda take turns watching out for him."

Dinah Lance has posed:
One eyebrow lifts slowly, "Well, I wasn't thinking of moving /in/ and... wait, like, you have a bunch of swords and guns and grenades when you /travel/?" Her eyes narrow slightly, glinting, taking in the perky young blonde a little more fully, a little more intently.

She grins crookedly and nods, "Well, Gotham's pretty relaxed on the whole pets and renting thing. I mean, I know of at /least/ one person who kept two hyenas, so... one dog /sometimes/? I reckon we can make that work." She pauses for a moment, "How... big of a dog? It's not like... the size of a house, right?"

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
"Well, I mean...right now I only have a glock and a knife," she says casually. "But I got all kindsa stuff back home," she admits openly. She hasn't really gotten down the 'secret identity' thing yet. As if to prove it, she lifts her shirt a bit. Flat tummy and a concealed holster, with a glock tucked safely into it. She drops her Batgirl shirt back into place.

"Naaaah, Jeff is normal dog sized. But he's a shark."

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah sighs softly, after a brief moment of tension... until she realizes that glock's in a concealed holster and not just hanging by Gwen's waistband. "Of course he is."

She sounds downright resigned to it, less 'I am skeptical Jeff is a shark' and more 'Of course the poor rain-drenched girl I just met has a pet shark named Jeff, because that's what your life is, Dinah.'

But that momentary resignation is counterbalanced by the kettle whistling, and her being able to pour, stir, and whip up two fine cups of hot cocoa, offering one up with a crooked smile.

"Well, don't go flashing your gun around, the local costumed vigilante takes a dim view on guns... even when they're being handled by people he /knows/."

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
"I mean, I'd love to meet the Bat Fam," she says. "But not in-costume, y'know? I'm good, but not -that- good. But I'd much rather meet someone like Black Canary. She is -so- hot," she adds with a grin. She goes to take the offered cup and blows on it a bit to cool it down.

"And yeah, my work means I need to keep well-armed. You never know when someone I pissed off'll come gunning, y'know?"

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah hides any expression she has by taking a convenient sip of hot cocoa, head just bobbing wordlessly. She clears her throat softly as she chimes out, "Oh, yeah, definitely... so you're like... what, the bubblegum bounty hunter? Taking down criminals and worried they'll come back when they get out of the ol' revolving door prison system? ...God, you're kinda young for that, aren't you?"

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
"I'm 20!," she responds indnigatly. "And nah, I'm Gwenpool, the mercenary! Worked for all kinds folks. Stopped working for villains after MODOK became -totally- obsessed with me, though." She sticks her tongue out and shakes her head,before finding a weight bench to park her butt on.

Gwenpool might not be an unknown name, actually. Known as a beacon of absolute chaos who also happens to be surprisingly dangerous in a fight. A Gotham article about one of her fights in NYC once called her a 'pantsless arctic ninja'. She loved that, really.

She eyes Dinah over the rim of her mug, taking small sips here and there. "Buuuuut I'm between gigs right now. Killed a few of the Marcone's that were nesting in Harlem, and I had to duck my head for awhile, y'know? Those guys can't take anything chill..."

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah offers a shuddering little wince of sympathy at the mention of MODOK, "I know I shouldn't, but like... that guy looks so /weird/... uggggh!" She tilts her head thoughtfully, teeth worrying her lower lip, "But the name sounds familiar, I think I read about you in a League doss- uhhh... on the... internet! Yes. On a website. On the internet. On my computer."

She snorts softly and sips at her cocoa, head nodding solemnly, "Yeah, I get that. I have a few friends that get that kinda reaction from crime families all the time. They really just /do not/ let those grudges go, do they?"

She heaves out a soft sigh, "Well, if you're a merc laying low, you can't get much lower than Gotham. I'll see if I can't rustle up a spot for you to hang your hat and your katanas and your laser guns and..." She offers a crooked little grin. That's Dinah! Roll with those punches.

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
"You can say Justice League. It's alright," Gwen responds as if it is the most casual call-out in the world. She takes another pull of her cocoa before glancing down into the steaming mug. "And that'd be great. A place to hang for awhile, I mean! Does it have a clock? Like...a -big- clock? I do love BIG CLOCKS that I can live inside of." She lifts her mug again, peering at the other blonde over the rim.

She's quiet now as she sips, waiting for whatever fallout or denial that is about to occur.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah heaves out a loud sigh and rolls her head back, eyes closing, "I'm so gonna get a talking to about 'operational security' again... god those lectures are so boring and long and /boring/ and /long/..." She heaves out a sigh again and then blinks rapidly, head snapping forward, eyes narrowing. "I... hey! That... is not a Justice League thing! You... do you know Huntress? Did she put you up to this to trick me so she can laugh at me again?" She glowers and sighs, "I knew it, I /knew/ she was going to get me back for karaoke..."

She sighs and grins, "Well, I'll have to make a call, I don't... uhhh... /own/ that real estate, but I think the owner was talking about having some little apartments put in for people in need, and I imagine you count."

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
"I mean, I know OF Huntress, but nah. Never meant her. I'm a Mutant," she says. "Homo Sapiens Supe...superhero. Whatever it's called. X-Gene, y'know? My power means I get these kinda...imprints off people," she says. It's been how she's explained it so far in this world. "I just -know- things. It's not like telepathy, though. I don't read minds. I just KNOW Dinah Lance is Black Canary, and that the Birds of Prey use this awesome clocktower for a hideout. Also, I definatly wanna hang there. Are you guys Batgirl era, or Oracle era?," she asks, dinishing her mug.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah takes another drink of cocoa, and for a moment, she reflects woefully that it would go so much better with... whiskey? Yes. Whiskey. This is the kind of weird conversation best enhanced with a bit of that. But alas. She bobs her head slowly, at least feigning understanding if nothing else. "Well, that's not so bad... I don't really hang out around any literal mind readers, always struck me as kinda weird. Also probably hell on surprise parties."

She hand waggles a little and sighs, "I mean, kinda both? Batgirl still goes out and kicks butt and takes names, but she's also like... honestly probably more effective directing the rest of us and doing her crazy computer voodoo. That lady can /program a DVR/. Doesn't even have to google it!"