2858/Two Birds, One Stone

Two Birds, One Stone
Date of Scene:	10 August 2020
Location:	Paradise Limelight
Synopsis:	Happy time to chat.
Cast of Characters:	Meggan Puceanu, Dick Grayson

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Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Paradise Limelight brings something of a thrill-ride to a once derelict neighbourhood. Sure, the stars hung out here in their heyday and time forgot Gotham. Then the venture capitalists or the hipsters found their corner, it seems. Hidden in a spot that probably housed a mansion or an outlot once upon a time, the club seethes with cool. Beyond cool, a futuristic vibe doesn't hurt to offset the fact karaoke probably terrifies a good many patrons. Up in the cylindrical bar, the lurid violet hues set off the frosty glass panels that seem to float and glow in a nearly space-age thrill. Chrome helps, too, in capturing a slick ambiance that deserves to have murderous androids lurking around every corner.

Alas, not too likely in Gotham, but you never know. Instead, there's a blonde with a northwestern English accent impugned by Gaelic of the Irish variety and tints of Welsh. The catalogue of drinks is impressive, and she stops to consider the bottles of glowing blue and green offerings -- Midori and Curacao involved, assuredly -- to see which one belongs. Fortunately for her, there's a small tablet with the recipe charts whipped up in the weirdest forms, linked to a database to outfox the wiliest alcoholic. Well, short of Constantine, anyway.

Dick Grayson has posed:
Dick from time to time is one to adventure to the more obscure parts of Gotham, mostly because it gets him away from the college bars and the high life that annoy him for different reasons. In that case, Paradise Limelight is a different change of pace, though it is his first time here. His night job does not allow him to venture forth as often as he would like.

The princeling of Gotham is dressed decently enough for the club, though subdued to avoid causing too much attention as Dick simply just wants to explore Gotham and get a drink. For this reason he walks on over to the bar near Meggan and asks, "Sorry if I'm being a bother, but what would you recommend? Also have we met before?" Dick may not have spoken with Meggan at the gala, but she does seem familiar.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
The obscure parts of Gotham are obscure for a reason: what fun is there to be had on the backend of nowhere? City lights, city life, that's where it's at. Right? That's the story being sold in the sleek steel and smoky glass dreams on the shores of Bleake Island, drifting further in. Paying cover to get past isn't much of an issue for certain billionaire scions, the titters and curious looks a little more subdued here because too many people are too cool for that sort of thing. Selfies on Instarkgram, sure, posting videos of their singing in private rooms, of course. But not quite up to openly gawking at the famous or the privileged.

As for Meggan? Gawking isn't really in the job description, or those double-taking an actual activist of her calibre working. But work is work. Filthy lucre means pouring out the concoctions of midori, vodka, elderflower, and a sprinkling of glistening boba beads in bright cyan hues to tumble to the bottom. Each of them pops with blue curacao when pressed to the tongue, the infusions dancing with an herbal kiss. Two bottles, one small vial, and a curious bowl filled by those beads that glow to the underlighting all greet Dick as the blonde lifts her gaze from her work to mark him. Not in evidence: pointy ears, though her heavy golden hair might make that difficult to spot anyway. A curve of a smile lifts. "That depends, is it because you were protesting or shaking your head at a Twitter post?" Arching an eyebrow, her expression changes with a golden smile tumbling in place. "I had a few questions unmet at the Lincoln March re-election campaign. So many faces, though Johnny Storm was kind enough to introduce me to a few people. I think the poisoned pen of the gossips thought you and Ms. Fairchild..." She doesn't continue, even as a smile lifts.

Dick Grayson has posed:
Dick thinks for a few moments, "No, I don't think so anyway." He thinks, but then Meggan provides the answer, "Oh, you were at the March fundraiser! That's why." When Caitlin is brought up he shakes his head and smiles, "Nah, Caitlin and I are simply friends. But I can see why others would say that." Dick does not notice Meggan's ears presently, though he does continue, "ANy questions you have that I could answer? Off the record, of course. The seal of the bartender confessional ought to be observed." He grins at the joke.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Winking her emerald green eyes, Meggan clicks her tongue to her palate and the sound is nearly swallowed in the glistening, reckless backbeats of K-pop infused by a synth roll that's slick and seductive in time. "I was. As it is, I need to verify a few questions from the mayor himself before publishing anything about those experiences. Frighteningly overdue but the election's not happened yet, far as I know." The smartly prepared cylinder of a glass she tops off with a bright blue straw that seems to almost glow in the dark, and slides that over to a waitress to carry off. Another order pops up on the tablet and she puts away the other bottles to make a quick variation on a martini, this one pouring Frangelico and Bailey's into a martini glass. Espresso awaits with a machine that honestly looks like a Roomba crossed with a chandelier. "No judgment here, merely setting that we've been in print as much as anything. Nothing here, of course, to go onto the record. I swore to observe the practices. What's your poison, then, since we can hardly have questions without liquor to go with it."

Dick Grayson has posed:
Dick nods and flashes his grin, though his blue eyes return the wink. "Well, then let's go with something that I can enjoy for a bit, let's just start with a highball." He relaxes and takes a seat on the stool, passing forward his card for the tab. "That is fair, who do you write for, again, if I might ask?" His tone is cordial, more curious than anything. Dick is having a good day and it shows in his demeanor and tone, "Though I hope you at least had fun at the gala?"

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
With a quick nod, Meggan turns to review the different bottles of whiskey. Most don't have labels. Going over them requires a furtive knowledge or practice, probably a combination of both. Slender hand lifting, she plucks one that bears none of the hallmarks of Wetworks' bottles -- though several definitely are from there -- and gives it a proper shake. "A man's drink choices can say a great deal about him. Preferring one of the classics, often a sign of respecting tradition and upholding certain values," she says, merry as she goes. The soda follows next from a peculiarly thin bottle, the highball glass procured from a case. "If you want something unique, I'd mix up the whisky with a good Manzanilla sherry, a spritz of lemon juice, and a bit of lemon peel. Rather unusual take for the isles, but it matches the sherry kegs used to mature the whisky in the first place." Rather playfully, she pours the soda out and drops a few ice-shaped balls in for balance. "Fun? Oh, plenty. It's tough not being familiar to all the faces, but that comes with time and experience. For once not being the person drawing all the focus in the room's a blessing." The roll of her shoulder sends violet lowlights dancing over the wealth of her braided hair, the simple dress she wears practically ablaze in a frosting of silver-white light that makes her look a great deal like Galadriel went bartending after a few millennia of boredom in a forest. "I write freelance, and broadcast through various social media networks. But I've worked with plenty. The Times, Vox, the Guardian, ENN. Whisper softly and sometimes they hear, or at least those following me broadcast the message out. I'm Meg, by the way. Or Meggan, or Meggan Puceanu if you really want the mouthful." She grins.

Dick Grayson has posed:
Dick Grayson says, "Can't go wrong with a classic," Dick says with a nod, "Though if you go that route with the sherry, I wouldn't say no." He nods, and rests his elbows on the bar, shifting his weight to them. "And I am glad you had fun, though I do get the joy of anonymity. As you said, people see and talk, and at times it would just be nice to just exist." He grins and blinks at the resume and the Galadriel impression, "That's impressive!" Genuine approval, "Richard Grayson, but you can call me Dick," he punctuates it with a nod, "So Meg, got any particular questions that did not get answered that I can help with?""

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"You humouring me or willing to try? It's a good one, a bit fizzy on the tongue but never a bad thing. Lemon does wonders on a summer night." Absolutely delighted with the prospect, Meggan takes Dick up on the offer. "Be right back in two shakes of a lamb's tail!" Something absolutely not said anywhere in Seoul by anyone cool, probably, but that's their loss.

She drops down behind the long, expansive bar, and for a moment it might look as if that uber-cool space has no tender at all. The thinner population doesn't attest to the actual popularity of the place; most people have their own karaoke rooms. Gold and silver locks shimmering with the weirdly intense lighting, she bobs back up holding a cool bottle of port by the neck. "Go ahead and try that one, and let me whip up the second. I can't mix in the lemon and have it taste right like that. Say if you don't like it, and it's on the house." Finger to her nose, she flashes that radiant smile, picking up his good mood and adding it to her own. "Plenty of journos around, you know? Not many people like you. I get why everyone was drawn in, though it looked like everyone had a good time except the lady who went full out Inquisition. Was starting to worry she'd pull out a red cloak and a cross, then claim we were all in the judicial hearings. Can't imagine that would've made for a dull night."

All the while as she speaks, she mixes up the Manzanilla sherry and the whisky in equal portions. It's a very good Macallan, dosed with a liberal hand, one borne of being a child of the literal waters that very much flow in to the distillation. Benefits to being an elemental; always knowing the precise proportions needed. "Oh, Dick, if you only knew. Endless questions. It's a new city to me, this, but I call it home now. It's growing on me. What I see and hear probably differs a good bit from others, at least most. But you've lived here a long while? What do you think are the most pressing matters Gotham faces?"

Dick Grayson has posed:
"Seldom do inquisitions result in boring nights, but you can never rely on them, they're always unexpected," Dick jokes as he nods, "But yeah, definitely willing to try it out. What's the worst that can happen?" He tries the first drink and gives a nod of approval, "Definitely a good one," and he flashes back a grin of his own to match. "Yeah, was not expecting /that/ level of intensity at a gala, but politics is strange like that.

"New to the city? Well, I'm almost as native to it as many, ever since I was a kid," Dick is not going to go into that now, at least not the dark part no sense ruining a good mood. "I think the biggest issues facing Gotham is a need for healthcare, especially mental healthcare, dealing with a shortage on affordable housing, and making the most of the area we have without it resulting in a sprawl that will only cause problems later." He may not be an urban planner, but these are things he's picked up over the years, especially considering the family he is part of. "I do have to ask, where were you from before here?" Dick gives his trademark smile, "Because I can't quite figure out the accent, but it is amazing!"

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"If Monty Python has anything to say, they are rather full of surprises." Meggan needs a small knife, though if Dick or anyone else is threatened by a paring blade, she cannot help them. The fresh lemon plucked from a chafing tray rests in her palm, and she applies the knife to the rind. Adding a crystalline addition of fresh lemon peel means making a few thin cuts that leave the fragrant zest and bright citrus spark floating on the air. "Now that's the secret you might want to keep up your sleeve. Give this a try." Nudging the second highball over to Dick, she turns to put the bottles away. Tidy that way; no need for clutter. Another two orders need her attention and she doesn't comment on the choices of frou-frou margaritas with too many strawberries and sugar for they're own good.

"That gala was something special. Beautifully done as far as political things go, though it helps to be good looking and supported by powerful people," she enthuses. Then she's silent for him to speak, attentive to the point pouring the margaritas causes a little of the frosty medley to slip onto the stone counter. Oops. Nothing a cloth won't wipe away. "Is this kind of sprawl normal? It certainly seems like American cities spread out much more than I'm used to, and not a scrap of greenspace anywhere downtown but for a few bits. Hard to believe you're on the water and lacking for trees." Her head tilts and she's beaming back at him, smiling all the more. Empathy has its benefits; a good time is truly a good one if the other people are happy. "I'm from the UK. Up past Liverpool on the west side."

Dick Grayson has posed:
Dick nods, "Indeed, the comfy chair is such a horrendous torture device," he says in mock seriousness as he works on his drink, observing the second being made. He samples it as the other orders are attended to and gives a wide smile, "Well, then, I think this shall replace my usual go-to." Unfortunately, he does not not the recipe, so he's probably stuck coming here to get it. The Gothamite does not comment on the overly-doctored drink orders.

What he does comment on is the gala, "Yeah, it is a game of see and be seen, I guess old habits die hard?" He shrugs and drinks from the second glass, much preferring it to the standard highball. "Sprawl happens because people want land and nothing else near them, but it is the way it is. Also cheap gas and roads make it doable, along with permissive planning." He shrugs, "But get some density in housing and it can go a long way. It would be nice to have a few more parks and greenery, a little more life here in the concrete wasteland." Dick gestures about, trying to indicate the city as a whole, "Yeah, some trees would be nice, if we could get some more planted and growing in a timely fashion."

When Meggan notes her origins, Dick nods, "Aha, I knew it was somewhere in the United Kingdom. I knew it wasn't London or the West Country." A nod, "But what brings you to Gotham? Certainly isn't the weather, that's just a straight swap with back home."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"There might be lumberjack songs," intones the Brit as gravely as she can. Turns out, not particularly well, mostly spoiled by a throaty laugh. "Comfy chairs may be in short supply out here, but we have the stylish stool." A tap of the bar and she gestures to those high stools where short people have to worry about their legs dangling like children. "That's a twist on a highball. Another involves coffee, and it has a kick like you might not believe. It's a favourite, especially come winter or when you need to make it through the night."

The margaritas dispatched on a tray by another of those bon vivant servers, she wipes up the spilled bit with a tidy cloth embroidered with the club's logo. "Aye, not much different on either side of the Pond," she agrees about such galas, tucking her golden hair behind her ear. Habit; more falls in a spill. "Neighbourhoods like this have a history and a story. They fall into disuse and how can they be repaired if it's cheaper and more appealing to move to the newest subdivision? School is new, pipes are new, road is new. A higher cost to repair these ones or tear out the old pipes make it less politically advantageous or desirable to people chasing a white picket fence and their four bed, three bath mansion. And to chase that dream, they devour the few green spaces left to accommodate them. Paved paradise and put up a parking lot, as Joni Mitchell sang, wasn't it?" She shakes her head a little. "Concrete wastelands breed problems, ones that poison the very people here. They feed into crime and the very poor health you've spoken as a problem. Having more medical practices is a good thing, don't mistake me on that. But where are the causes of that mental health crisis coming from? It isn't only troubled households or problems with poverty. You have to dig deeper than that to find the root, and a lot of it goes into quality of life and how commoditized populations have become."

This, after all, is her expertise. But she ducks away from it with a raw little smile. "That's what I have to ask Mr. March, anyway. Living here, I ought to know those plans. And as 'tis, I'm from the Lake District up against the Irish Sea. Windermere and the others are beautiful, but you've got much better shopping." A wink again, and she pours water with plenty of ice, a sixer to be shuttled off. "Why here? Oh, I'm all about underdogs. New York's too expensive, and I knew someone who settled here for a bit. Another ex-pat, though he's returned to London. Trying to find my footing, find roots. Like I said, it seemed a good spot to try and I rather like the weather! It stays sunny when I need it to." Truth to truth; clouds part for a smile, believe it or not.

Dick Grayson has posed:
"Oh, mental health targets everybody, that's for certain," Dick nods and sips his drink, "And yeah, when people do try to move into places like this they tend to jack up the rent and property prices and drive out most who do live here. It's almost a damned if you do and damned if you don't kind of thing." He frowns, "It'd take work and capital to overhaul it and then try not to squeeze it for every penny once it is done." A sigh, "But March has a plan and I think it will move us in the right direction."

His mood improves a little with the slight topic change to England. "Ha, if you want an underdog, you should go to Bludhaven. It's where I live, at least until I go back to school. It's a nice town with a bad rap." Dick nods again, "Well if you ever want someone to show you around Gotham or Bludhaven, let me know." He gives that grin again.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"It does. More so those already on the edge. The poor, the vulnerable, the homeless. People living in places where the services just aren't there, and they cannot afford the luxury of healthcare. I won't get started on that," Meg assures Dick, shaking her head softly with a knowing roll of her shoulder. "We did a fair lot of harm to the NHS, but what it all seems to boil down to is more complex and much simpler than jobs or housing. It's the very place they live. Is the air clean? The water safe? When you've got foul air to breathe, all kinds of illnesses and chronic conditions go up. When you live in the concrete wastes, you lack for a connection to nature, and that has a price. People find calm and relaxation better than any yoga or kickboxing class when they walk for fifteen minutes in the trees. There are kids now who don't even know what a robin is, can't point out an oak leaf from a line of them, and haven't ever heard grasshoppers. Think about that. You have those growing up ever? I mean, birds and chirping, that's summer in a bottle right there."

She smiles apologetically when he frowns. "Now there's the confessional and here you are, listening to me. Supposed to be the other way around. Bludhaven, I don't know so much about. The outskirts around here? Tell me about it, what's the place here to see? You going to Gotham University then? What's your.. oh, what do you call them? The thing you go to uni for, your main degree."

Dick Grayson has posed:
"I grew up in the circus," Dick says, "Animals were pretty common, as was watching the world go by as we went from place to place." He frowns, "You are not wrong, people need nature, something that reaches deep into us." He sighs, "It's all understandable, though, there is more to Gotham than concrete, there is life here that can be returned, perhaps March can use some of the renovations to add more parks to allow for this?"

Then the topic shifts to Dick, "I know a few places around each, used to be a cop in Bludhaven, and a lot of nice secret places that people overlook that deserve far more attention. Same in Gotham, like this place," he gestures again to the room. "But at Gotham U I'll be going for my law degree. It'll be something I can use alongside the privilege I grew up with to maybe make the world a better place." The hours being better also help.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Eyes wide, Meggan plants her elbows on the counter and rests her chin on her folded hands. "Really? I grew up in the wilds. Closest there is in England, any way. Having that perspective of living place to place differs from those who only know the city. It's good to have both, don't you think? Let's hope the mayor and those around him at least know more than the top of Gotham or the seaside. I'd like to think he might listen, though getting through on press credentials. Oof, his assistant thought it was going to be a bloodbath. He isn't that Booster Gold fellow, I'm not out to crash stock in spite."

Not really. No reason presents itself, no reason to concern herself. She is technically still working and the modest interruption of two guests to admire Dick and ask for rum and cokes -- simple and cheap -- has her standing, prepping the drinks with speed and ease, a grin for the pair and a knowing shake of her head urging them on. "Wait, wait. You used to be a copper? No way. What's made you change your pace to go into law? Or is it going with the cop bit? Most of our police force seems to go for the degrees to go up the ranks, but I only know about the American side through TV. Pretty sure it doesn't work that way in real life."

Dick Grayson has posed:
"Yeah, before the accident, mom, dad, and I were the Flying Graysons," he gives a weak smile at that, "But that is the past, and Bruce was kind enough to take me in after that. I owe the man everything." He nods, "But yeah, being on both sides really gives different perspectives." He ponders, "If there's another fundraiser, let me know if you're going, maybe I can swing a favor." No promises, but Meggan seems nice and not someone who is going to ruin Dick's reputation. "And yeah, not sure what was going on with /that/." He rolls his eyes at Booster.

Dick lets the others get served and delivers a wave to sate their curiosity. Though the talk goes into his old gig, "Yeah, hours were bad and were burning me out. I kind of feel bad taking a consultancy at Wayne Enterprises, but I may as well do what I can to make the world a better place." He chuckles, "But nah, I'd be better off fighting in the courts or board rooms making sure that the right decisions are made, which fortunately happens at Wayne Enterprises, but at least with a law degree I can work outside of the family business."

Dick Grayson has posed:
"Yeah, before the accident, mom, dad, and I were the Flying Graysons," he gives a weak smile at that, "But that is the past, and Bruce was kind enough to take me in after that. I owe the man everything." He nods, "But yeah, being on both sides really gives different perspectives." He ponders, "If there's another fundraiser, let me know if you're going, maybe I can swing a favor." No promises, but Meggan seems nice and not someone who is going to ruin Dick's reputation. "And yeah, not sure what was going on with /that/." He rolls his eyes at Booster.

Dick lets the others get served and delivers a wave to sate their curiosity. Though the talk goes into his old gig, "Yeah, hours were bad and were burning me out. I kind of feel bad taking a consultancy at Wayne Enterprises, but I may as well do what I can to make the world a better place." He chuckles, "But nah, I'd be better off fighting in the courts or board rooms making sure that the right decisions are made, which fortunately happens at Wayne Enterprises, but at least with a law degree I can work outside of the family business."

Dick then asks, "So what do you do besides tend bar and write?"

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
A weak smile, a bitter toothache of pain. Meggan needn't be an empath of the height she is to recognize the signs of loss or suffering in another, but she can read it on a few levels. There is a silent kind of code in a bartender's creed, in many ways, and the serving staff know when to read the signs in a steady look, the slow oscillations of the white terrycloth used to polish a rather pristine bar of water marks and any spills. The universal sign for 'tell them to wait' broadcast wide and clear, while the tablet goes ignored. "That so? See, having that personal experience gives an important insight. Especially for someone committed to serving the public." She plants her elbows back down and her chin on the arc of her fingers, beaming again.

The litany of troubles for the Bludhaven Police get a knowing chuckle. "How'd you ever manage both? Having work like that and the expectations of running a rather vast multinational business with a global footprint? I mean, with Mr. Wayne himself in charge, it might ease things some, but still. That's a rather big crumpet on your plate. Must be quite exciting to have a new direction. I sound a fair bit dull besides that, you must know!"

Grinning, she gestures: "Try to save the world. Studying climatology and the science of it, at least. Question truth to power on their habits and such. I promise not to bother you on that."

Dick Grayson has posed:
Dick has been in enough bars to know the bar wipe signal, and gives a thankful nod. He then chuckles, "Well, I don't know if the plan was ever for me to run the company, but hopefully that decision is a long way off. I kind of wanted to go on my own, be my own man and make my own way." All true, "But I am happy to refocus towards home, even if it means three more years of school."

"Oh, are you studying at Gotham U, too? Nice!" His tone warms again, "Hey, that is a worthy goal everyone should aim for. And honestly, keep the powerful humble and grounded. Always feel free to question, even if it is uncomfortable. Heck, you are at least not hovering over my shoulder watching my every move like some page six columnists. You want to do good honest journalism and I will respect the heck out of that," flashing a grin.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"Doing something in it counts." Meg sways a fingertip. "You just imagine how complicated that all is, to an outsider, it looks plenty fancy." She makes a few checks of the soda dispenser, flipping the lights over to a strangely cheery shade of sapphire, and examines the bottles to straighten them up a little bit. "Not my business to know, though. Privy to the counter's secrets, but not to pry at them." She happily dodges thta topic and tiptoes away from it, leaving Dick some modicum of privacy such as there is.

"I'm studying, though it is so much more than I expected. I know what the problems are, but the science behind them's plenty chewy when..." A wave of her hand. "Didn't have the best schooling growing up. Plenty of smart folks around there and all." Her cheeks turn lightly pink, gaze dropped to the floor for a moment. "Strange being there, that's all."

Dick Grayson has posed:
Dick smiles, "Mainly it comes down to a time and a place. I mean," he shakes his head and sips, "Things are complex, but I figure I may as well use my platform for good?" The Wayneling shrugs and gives another nod, "Thanks. Then again, you've done more than most have in that regard."

When Meggan talks about her studies he listens, "Oh, that makes sense. Lot of moving parts of the why. But you have one thing that a lot of people don't, you actually care." Dick says kindly, "Your potential is there. If you need help on anything, go to the library, they can help with a whole bunch of stuff with tutors and whatnot, or even if you just have a specific sticky issue. I know I used them from time to time." He gives a warm, reassuring smile, "You got this."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"I do care, and that isn't always good. I get a lot of flack for it," laughs the blonde, not held down for long. Not in her nature, anyway, for the sunshine always tries to burn through. "Death threats, told to do plenty of improbable things. I let that slide by most of the time. Though the librarians need more work than just telling me how to get by! The system here is awfully different and it might settle sooner or later." She shrugs her shoulders a little, a smile on her lips still. "I can give them a chat though. Mostly it's getting my bearings. Not tackling huge sea monsters trying to unseat the city and all that."

She has to be kidding.

It -is- Gotham.

She probably isn't.

Dick Grayson has posed:
"If you've made enemies, good, means you've stood up for something," Dick says, "I've ticked off more than enough that I have enough people that I don't speak with anymore." The mention of death threats though, cause Dick to frown, "Damn. I did not know, sorry. IF there's anything I can do, please let me know." He is genuinely concerned. He barely knows Meggan, but dangit it isn't right. "I mean it," he finishes his drink and starts on the original one. "I'll be on campus if you need anything, well, not living on campus, but I'll be there enough." The talk about sea monsters causes him to blink, "That I did not expect. Though, yeah, that would be interesting." He is definitely uncertain about that, not sure if true or not because well, Gotham.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Meggan waves her hand again. "I won't say it's nothing but I report them when they come up. No one has been foolish enough to try anything so far in Gotham." The word choice says it all, same with the reasonably unruffled tone of voice. "You've 999 here, just different digits. Seems to me no one takes kindly to ruffians and the sorts that prey on people online. Most of those nutters benefit from anonymity, not like they'd ever stand up to someone questioning them, I expect. So there it is."

Dick earns a smile all the same, shoulders lifting with a graceful ease. "I will remember that. I'll be on campus though finding me online is obviously pretty easy. Lady of the Lake and all that. Though I suppose I need myself a lake."

Dick Grayson has posed:
"Good, at least on nobody coming close to carrying it out, but yeah 911 is pretty handy over here. But people become badasses on the internet when they think they can get away with it." Dick nods and pulls out his phone and immediately clicks follow, "Well, I'm FlyingGrayson on Twitter, though you probably just got that message." He grins, "But if you get a lake you can start distributing swords determining who is in charge, so that'd be pretty neat!" A laugh, back to the Python jokes.