Owner	Pose
Laura Kinney	The training facilities are probably the one place in The Roost that Laura spends most of her time. Which is probably for the best. If it was the kitchen the city would tremble at all the hot sauce she'd be making. Today she's cleared the space for exotic weapons practise. Leaving nothing but a balance beam and a suspicious lack of safety mats. It's up on that beam she's currently located, dressed in sleek black gym wear, and whirling a length of chain with a weight at the end around her. The length of chain forming looping arcs around her. Warding imaginary foes away from her. Then making the slightest motion to send the weight snapping outward in a strike.
Harper Row	Harper is making The Roost her primary place to train for this week. It's usually the Clocktower, but there's been a personal incident to make her not want to loiter amongst fellow Birds while the welts and other minor afflictions heal. She'll risk random drop-ins. So she's decided to darken this doorstep while she keeps on top of physical conditioning and trying to improve. Her headphones are in. "...~Ding ding dong a bong bong bing bong~..." In comparison to Laura's attire, Harper is has a white tank-top under a comfortable and bulky hoodie, the latter getting hefted up over her head, muffling her lyrics and shimmying the outer layer off. "...~Ticky ticky thought...of a gun~" The hoodie comes off, dislodging an earbud and blinking away her messy hair. "Uuuuuugh!" she enunicates and air guitars a provocatively positioned invisible instrument. Miming throwing it on an equally imaginary neck strap, she dusts off her hands and seeks the pause button. "Woah." She's going slack-jawed, gazing up at Laura do some cool kung fu on the narrow beam. "Kill Bill eat your heart out, amirite?"
Laura Kinney	The petite mutant curls the chain around her body just so. Causing it to fling back over her shoulder, presumably to take out anyone advancing along the beam behind her, then turns quickly to build momentum back up with more arcs around her. "Is that a Gotham villain?" she wonders. "One who only targets people called Bill?" She's so deadpan it's impossible to say if she's serious. Or joking. Except Laura almost never jokes... Moving along the beam she starts to tighten up the arcs. Bringing the chain weapon in close until it's coiled around her forearm in a 'safe' manner. The weight end seems to be a studded metal ball now that it's not blurring with the motion. "It's not really a great weapon for practical combat. Not without enhanced abilities and, even then, a sword is generally still a much more versatile choice."
Harper Row	Harper drops off her stuff a little further along and kicks off her stinky sneakers. "Huh?" Harper's head tilts, and there's an eye squinting while she tries to read Laura's expression. "Uhhhh..." Her ankle socks come off next, pinching them with alternating sets of toes and prodding them into her shoes. "It would not surprise me, but no, not really. Not yet. It's from a...movie." A wry grin and Harper straightens to pop some vertebrae and shakes out her wrists. Feeling cocky, she ventures over to the balance beam, figuring Laura's got the skills to avoid scalping her unintentionally. It's a bit forward of her, but Harper starts to props her palms down atop the end of the beam and hoists herself up, aches and all. "Hup!" "Good thing I'm not afraid of height." she jokes, badly. "Swords, swingy things, flicky things...is any of it any less practical than fricken laser beams coming out of someone eyes? I'd prefer my gun over a sword. Gun-Fu!" She strikes a pose on the beam, half-turned, finger-guns out.
Laura Kinney	"Oh. I miss a lot of the team movie nights," Laura admits with an idle shrug. Her nose does not wrinkle at the removal of feet from unpleasant sneakers. But perhaps her eye twitches. Ever so slightly. "And many of the ones I do watch I find tedious. The action movies are not really very realistic. Or they make a big deal about things which are simple." Which for Laura probably includes jumping out of a plane, having a life or death struggle, and then stealing the parachute while shooting at other parachuting thugs. "You do know if you fall off it could hurt quite a bit?" she wonders. Turning and holding up the weight. Those spikes do not look sparring safe. "Laser eyes would be very easy to aim. Guns though... Well they're useful but I can cut bullets out of the air so... I do think they fall down against powered individuals."
Harper Row	Harper pantomimes a shocked face, eyelashes fluttering. She pretends to action-star twirl her imaginary guns like she could spin them on their trigger guards. She chomps on her bottom lip and positions her feet a bit further apart on the beam. Batwoman has made her run along these things and do flips until she's blue in the face and wanting to cally for her Mama. Harper grins and holsters her hands at her hips. Her words come out in a drawl, like some scummy Chicago gangster from the Tommy-gun era. "Oh yeah, Toots?" "Think you could disarm someone before they draw on you and your Shaolin secrets, little Missy?" She waggles her eyebrows, feeling all jovial and thinking she could coast on charm and luck. "It's high noon. You've got your weapon, and I've got two six shooters and Clint Eastwood eyes. Whattaya say?"
Laura Kinney	People sometimes forget. X-23 doesn't just have enhanced healing. Her healing factor boosts pretty much every physical attribute she possesses. There's a shift in attitude. She was just training the motions earlier. Laura Kinney meditation time. But when challenged she responds at combat speed. One moment Harper is watching Laura standing there on the beam and the next? Something whooshes over her head Harper's mohawk is flattened. Thankfully the blunt weapon doesn't do anything more than disrupt her do! No Gremlin hair was harmed in this demonstration. "Yes," she says calmly. "It's a well known fact that at this sort of distance a knife is more deadly than a gun." The slightest trace of a smile. "In the time it takes to draw and aim a gun a typical Human is supposed to be able to cover around twenty one feet. Give or take. The chain isn't as immediately as deadly as a blade but I could have crushed your throat and your hands would have been totally out of position to protect yourself..."
Harper Row	Harper's wry smile, perhaps quite punchable, is still on her face as her faux hawk gets flattened. She only registers the movement and sensation after the fact. If this were in slow mo, her change of expression would be slothful and goofy as heck looking. Why is Laura talking about...Pause...she registers the moment having happened, and her eyes widen. She tries to suppress the full on shudder as the sequence of effects pieces itself a bit more neatly. "...Bald headed Christ on a crutch..." Her hands are at her sides, not even fully drawn or nothing. Pursing her lips, she tries to think of a good quippy comeback, and she's firing blanks. "Uh...ahhhh...I haven't had my coffee yet." she ~baps~ her forehead with the flat of her palm, wincing and cringing. "But, I see what you mean I guess. Yeah." Frig.
Laura Kinney	"If it was a real fight I would have just advanced along the beam and punched you with it wrapped around my fist still," Laura admits with a shrug. "The fancier your moves are in a real life or death situation the less seriously you are taking your opponent." Which is one of the reasons she was so successful in her assassin career. No-one ever expects the petite little girl to be deadly. At least saying she'd use a less fancy move is a compliment of sorts! Even if it's said with the conviction that in this theoretical alternate timeline where the fight was for real Laura also won. "Typically for urban close in fighting the knife is optimal. It's deadly, cheap, and easy to conceal. I'd recommend you incorporate some moves to clear distance and avoid giving blade wielding opponents a direct line of attack at you. Law enforcement will sometimes move back and step to one side for precisely that reason."
Harper Row	Harper pulls a bit of a frowny face. Her hot crap 'tude registering more than demonstrations, not a bit of a psychological one. But she knows how to face facts, as unpleasant as they be to choke down. It's hard to scuff one's foot on a balance beam, but she does blow out her cheeks and grumble lightly. "Let's just say...I'd appreciate it?" A long pause and she sniffs. "Maybe you could show me a few ways to punch above my weight, or at least a way to make the odds not as horrifically worse? You certain did that when we tangled in the woods with old Mr. four-arms pit Grump during the Outsiders Vay-cay. You were fuckin cool." she concedes more brightly.