3342/All she got was a new haircut

All she got was a new haircut
Date of Scene:	12 September 2020
Location:	Level 4 - Recreation - The Roost
Synopsis:	Conner finds Hope playing games in the rec room. After talking about life, the go out to find food.
Cast of Characters:	Conner Kent, Hope Summers

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Conner Kent has posed:
It is again weekend, and again Conner came to the Roost looking for trouble, or fun, or both. Man, his college friends are starting to think he spends all the weekends studying. Last night he went straight to the training area to gauge how well goes his recovery from the Kryptonite poisoning. Then to get some sleep. Currently on his way to the rec-room and looking for Tim.

Important information needed: which movie are they watching tonight?

Hope Summers has posed:
Hope has been spending more and more time at the Roost lately. The freedom of the space and the lack of pressure from anyone else appeal to her. It appeals enough that it looks like she's actually relaxing for once, stretched out on one of the couches with a video game controller in her hands.

All right, maybe it's just //mostly// relaxing, given that it looks like some sort of first-person shooter.

Conner Kent has posed:
First person shooter is heard before it is seen. It usually means Bart is playing. Because Tim almost never plays alone and the Cassie and Rose just didn't play much. So Conner was about to comment about Bart's eye-hand coordination 'training' (as if he needed it) when he spots Hope.

"Oh hey..." he greets, glancing to the screen, then back to the redhead. "You got a new haircut," he notices, vaguely remembering something about the girls going to scout a club/drug den during the week. The young man grins, "looks good, too."

Hope Summers has posed:
Hope glances up from the TV with a smirk. "Yeah, well. It was a good cover. I can't believe the kind of money people pay for that, though. It's hair. You cut it. You tie it back. It's not that complicated." Way to take a compliment, Hope.

"How's going?" she asks, keeping her eyes on the screen now, fingers punching at buttons. It's all second nature to her, simple to tweak, routines to follow.

Conner Kent has posed:
"People will pay always to look good," points out Conner. "It is important for socializing and... stuff." He handwaves, since he is sure Hope knows all about it. Laura, now, maybe she would require a degree of explanation.

How is it going? "Well. I can bench-press sixty tons. That is better than two weeks ago but still not a hundred percent. It is taking forever," he absently rubs his abdomen, where Deathstroke stabbed him. It is no longer painful all the time, but he is still very aware of it.

"So you like this kind of game?" He asks, nodding at the screen shooter. "It is not unrealistic or something compared with the real thing?"

Hope Summers has posed:
"Where do you get sixty tons to bench press?" Hope asks, smile flickering for just a moment. Sure, she knows how the X-Men manage it for those sorts of powers, but hey, always good to know if there are alternatives.

"The other people and stuff are unrealistic," she shrugs, working her way through a building. "But to be fair, combat's usually 'unrealistic' too. People are unpredictable. There'll always be someone doing something stupid. War's not exactly conducted by professionals following a bunch of rules."

Conner Kent has posed:
"The training room has some high-tech devices that can push against me with that kind of strength," offers Conner. Nothing as fancy as an Holodeck, but multi-ton weight machines? They have them.

Then he glances at the screen and hehs, "I think you mean unpredictable, not unrealistic. But unless they have improved a lot in the last year or two, games are not unpredictable. Also, good professionals are often unpredictable and not in stupid ways. I mean..." he pauses. "Wait. You aren't talking about the 'war on crime' are you?"

Hope Summers has posed:
"War on crime?" Hope echoes, arching a brow like he's said the most ridiculous thing she can imagine. "What would that even be? How would that work? I think that's called 'martial law.'" Yeah, she's not that big on the whole 'civilization' thing...

Conner Kent has posed:
"You know, the neverending battle against the bad guys," this is super-hero language, c'mon. Of course Hope is not even from the same timeline. Has anyone told Conner? Nope.

"I guess it is not important," Conner flops down in a nearby couch and stares at the screen for a few seconds. "So, hmm, are you going to spend the afternoon playing? The others should be here soon. At least some of them."

Hope Summers has posed:
"War's not- That's a really bad analogy to use. I feel like it was invented by someone who had definitely never been in a real war." Hope pushes a few more buttons, then pauses the game and tosses the controller off to the side. "I didn't really have any plans," she admits. "I was kind of just blowing off some steam. I already did my training, put some things on the fabricator."

Conner Kent has posed:
"And you have?" Conner is curious. Of course Hope has shown a lot of skill handling firearms a few times, but she seems too young to be a soldier. Rose has that kind of skill, but Conner is not sure if she has been in a 'real war' either.

Or what is a real war, for that matter. Do alien invasions lasting about a week count?

He stands up, offering Hope his hand. "Okay. Want to go grab some lunch out there? My threat. I am sure if we look hard enough we can find some place in Gotham that is not gloomy and depressing."

Hope Summers has posed:
"More than some war against crime," Hope snorts, shaking a hand through her hair. She pauses at the offer, sitting up again. "I don't think it's gloomy and depressing here," she says, reaching out to take the offered hand. "I mean, sure, it's not all sunshine and rainbows, but...Honestly? Metropolis is weird. Whenever I'm walking around there I feel like there must be something I'm missing."

Conner Kent has posed:
Conner pulls Hope up, smiling. "Metro is all light and shine. Cool to visit, not sure I could live there again," he admits, with a shrug. "They call it the City of Tomorrow. And maybe it is. I like to live in the present, though. New York is a good middle-ground."

Gotham is not depressing? Only in comparison with ruins infested by cockroach-men. And if you go to the Narrows or the under city, they have ruins, and they probably have cockroach-men!

"You are a little odd," decides Conner. "Almost like a Gothamite. But I like you anyway."

Hope Summers has posed:
"Gee, thanks," Hope smirks, rolling her eyes. "New York's a good middle ground," she agrees. "But it's also crowded. And still kind of hard to trust people. I mean, sure, Gotham's not shiny and bright, but at least you can be sure that the people are probably looking for a way to get one over on you. You don't have to wonder if they're //really// being nice to you or if they're just pretending to be nice, you know?" Hope may have a few issues.

Conner Kent has posed:
"New Yorkers being nice?" Asks Conner, smirking back. "Are we talking about the same New York?" That is not the kind of subject he would have mentioned about New York! But he shrugs, "yes, no. Some folks just pretend to be nice. Some of those want something from you; the others just want to be left alone. Some people are really nice. And that is how the world rolls."

Hope Summers has posed:
"Well. Compared to other places." Hope's smile flickers across her features. "So what is it you're doing the rest of the week?" she asks, reaching for a pair of sneakers next to the couch to pull them on. "School? Studying what?"

Conner Kent has posed:
"College, at the ESU," confirms Conner, waiting for Hope to get her sneakers. "I have not decided the major yet, but probably will be journalism. What about you? Aiming to have a normal life or just vigilante 24/7 like a bat?"

He knows Hope is a mutant, but she can pass as human. To say the truth he knows very little of the mutant sub-culture. Mental note to ask about it.

Hope Summers has posed:
"Vigilante 24/7 //is// normal life for me," Hope points out, rueful. "Besides, the guy's trained like...eight sidekicks. I'm pretty sure he doesn't vigilante 24/7. I don't know what he does yet, but I'm gonna find out." Because Hope is not the best at boundaries. She pulls on her sneakers then stands up again, brushing herself off. "So what're you thinking?"

Conner Kent has posed:
"Is that what you want?" Shoots back Conner. Asking about Hope's life choices. But that was not the plan. "I was thinking we can find a nice restaurant. Get some food, then maybe find a museum, or go to the park. Get to know you better, you know?" He grins. "Then we can get back for dinner, I bet some of the others will be around by then."

Hope Summers has posed:
"I like doing it," Hope shrugs. "Making things better. Helping people. Overcoming challenges. Going places, seeing things. I don't know what else I'd do that I could possibly really like."

At the list of activities, she quirks a brow. "I...was more wondering about what kind of food you were thinking. Not that we can't get everything here. I try not to think too hard about how the robot's able to make so many things. It gets weird fast."

Conner Kent has posed:
"I like doing new things," admits Conner. "Going places, seeing things. Which we won't do if we stay in here. Good food or not. The robot... uh, Tim is good building things." That is all the explanation needed. Oh, and the robot probably works for Batman, anyway. Because, Gotham.

"Kind of food, no idea," he pulls out his cellphone and begins typing. "Lets see what we can find in the net about good places in the area which don't require reservations?"

Hope Summers has posed:
"Okay, but how do we stay stocked on ingredients? Like...is it someone's job to rotate what's in the fridge and-" Hope stops herself, scrubbing a hand at her face with a sheepish smile. "Sorry. I'm making it weird and overthinking it. How about tacos? Those are fun." And almost uniformly made with terrible quality food, which probably explains why Hope thinks they count as cuisine.

Conner Kent has posed:
Who cares about quality if it tastes good? Well, besides moms, and maybe Robin.

"I bet Tim has a storage room with food for ten years," because, that boy plans for everything, you see. "Tacos. Good. That narrows it down to seventy eight places in Gotham." More typing on the cell. Obviously some places are too far to walk there. Although he could fly Hope. But there must be a few good ones within walking range. "Lets go!"