Owner	Pose
Barbara Gordon	So let's get something straight right out the doors, Babs doesn't give a crap that nobody wished her happy birthday. She doesn't care that it wasn't a big deal, that there were no well wishes... Her dad had left a hastely spoken message, ''Hey Honey, sorry I can't be there to celebrate with you, but I've got case work up to my ears... Let's set a date sometime next week and have dinner?'' Which brought a small smile to her face, but for the most part it was all business related calls. Padding around her apartment atop the Clocktower, she's in a tanktop with a cat riding a unicorn, and a pair of Scoobie Doo vintage PJ bottoms. A big pair of fluffy eared slippers on her feet, and a wireless headphone with cat-ears on her head. She has a bowl of cereal in her hands, chewing slowly as she makes her way up the steps to the bank of computers sitting like a half circle facing the one way glass that is the Clock face. Tint low so she can look out over the bay. "Welp... you're just a day older, Babs.. How do you feel?"
Dinah Lance	Dinah's not great at technology. Or scheduling. Or, really, socializing. At least not lately. She knows she's been pushing things too far, way more 'Punch those drug dealers, follow the supply chain, punch more drug dealers' in her life, and not nearly enough friendship. And then it hits her. Babs's birthday! She should celebrate that. It's what friends do, and she needs friendship to keep her balanced. It's just a shame it hits her about eight hours after the strike of midnight... bright and early in the morning -after- the redhead's birthday. But that's what clumsy, hastily thrown together displays of affection are for. And that's why the chime for the doorbell to the clocktower sounds, and presumably why any security camera facing down from above the door shows... okay, okay, it doesn't look great. This is Gotham. Poison Ivy's a thing. A mass of flowers standing at your door is usually a sign of impending chaos. Like a clown showing up, or someone mentioning it's getting chilly, or... condiments? It hits Dinah that there's a lot of things in Gotham that super villains latch onto as a gimmick. Of course, any other cameras will quickly explain the mound of flowers, as other angles show Dinah trying to balance two cups of coffee, that oversized bouquet, a paper bag from her favorite coffee shop that's got to have some kind of pastries, and an envelope held between her teeth like a pirate carrying a knife up the mast. She might be late, but Dinah's going to apologize with gusto. Gusto and oven-fresh croissants.
Barbara Gordon	Babs has done away with her cereal, it wasn't really working with her whole 'standing at the window staring forelorn out over the Gotham harbor' vibe she was going for. It's set down on the edge of her computer desk, one of them anyways, that has the monitors linked to the plethora (yes I know what that word means) of cameras angled all around the exterior of the Clocktower. It would be a fair statement to say Babs is lil bit paranoid. Side glancing the monitors when one of the proximity alarms trigger, she raises one red brow at the bouquet of flowers that look suspect as hell given Ivy is loose right now... It is true that literally no gift is safe from the criminal gimmickry of Gotham.. Once you deal with a guy who shoots ketchup from a high powered supersoaker straped to his back, all bests are pretty much off. "Come in, Dinah." Keying up the comms unit, the redhead is grinning at the mental image her friend is cutting down there. In the interim between locks releasing and Dinah's ascention to the top floor, Babs has made her way back down, cleaned out her bowl, and is starting towards the couch. All the systems on the computer are largely automated anyways. She'll get an alert if she's physically needed at the keys.
Dinah Lance	Dinah takes a bit to get up to the penthouse, and as she manages to juggle flowers, baked goods, and precious caffeine, by the time she's stumbling in, she's calling out, though her voice is muffled... damn you, birthday card! "Baaaabfffs! I'mff fhere!!" And then she's a flurry of brief activity, managing to settle the bouquet down, perching the card against the basket, bag of baked goods set aside. Her eyes are sparkling playfully, lifting the coffee in her left hand in a little gesture, "English toffee cappucino? I've got croissants too." She sighs and shakes her head, "So... I already asked, and it turns out I -can't- get my hands on a time machine to go back 24 hours and deliver these on time..." But still, after that moment of disappointment, she's back to high energy, hips cocking as she struts across the room, eyes narrowing. "So I'm just going to have to come up with some way to make it up to you. I was thinking about penance. I dunno, rebuild the exhaust system on your bike or something... but I was thinking sugar and fresh baking might be a start. Not -my- baking, mind you. I mean, I'm not turning evil or anything, so I wouldn't wish -that- on anyone."
Barbara Gordon	Count on Dinah to come in like a wreckingball of energy, smashing through the dower mood Babs /definitely wasn't in/. Her hands are firmly placed on her cocked hips when the blonde sashays her ass in her carrying a big bundle of flowers, baked goods, and coffee.. Why, it's enough that even Barbara Gordon's legendary sarcastic smirk faulters beneath the sheer weight of adorable effort put into making up for a few short hours. "Let me guess, you were out ''punching drug dealers''." It would be funny, but it's probably true. Shoving off towards the treasures bestowed, her first stop is the coffee. Flipping the lid off with her thumb so she can add another two artificial sweeteners and give it a good stir. Adjusting her red framed glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose, she's spy happy on that envelop while taking the delightful first, arguably best, sip of a late morning espresso. "Hah.. alright, alriiiight..." Waving one hand through the air, "You've won me over with your smooth tactical offerings and clever rhetoric.. You are forgiven..." A dramatic narrowing of her eyes, "This time." Another sip and the coffee is set away so she can open her arms, "Thanks, babe. You're the best friend a girl can hope for, and I'm not just saying that because you're the only person to call, come by, or text either."
Dinah Lance	Dinah's eyes narrow to mere slits... her arms cross over her chest, which really makes it difficult to reach out and offer that coffee up as Babs closes in, "You know I can -hear- those air quotes. They were -bank robbers-." She clears her throat softly and murmurs, "And actually I used judo, it was more joint locks than punching..." And then that scowls is shifting to a more playful grin, although her eyebrows do shoot up, "Jeeze, -no wonder- you're so sweet." And then she's grinning genuinely brightly, her coffee set aside, and she's diving into those open arms for a hug, squeezing and murmuring out, "Oh, you'll always forgive me. It's just a matter of how much I'll have to beg and grovel. And of course not, I'm also the best friend you can have because I know the best bars -and- I can fix your bike if it breaks down. I contain multitudes." She leans back in that hug and looks truly shocked, "Wait, I'm the -only- one? Well, I mean, I guess things are hectic out there... or maybe everyone's planning a big surprise party and I just didn't hear about it because I never check my phone, and -you- don't know about it because it's for you and they're using carrier pigeons to coordinate so you can't snoop it out online."
Barbara Gordon	"Oh..." Babs says when the hug is initiated, trying to keep a straight face against the best Dinah attempt to break her, "Well, you can't see my face right now, but I'm extremely proud of you using Judo on ''bank robbers'', thus missing my birthday." She'll lay it on thick, she don't care. "Did you judo chop someone like Captain Kirk? You know you actually have to /say/ Judo chop, right? That's part of the training." "Okay now.. don't go casting judgement on how a lady eats her bagel or drinks her coffee... some shit is sacred, Dinah.. There are some lines we just don't cross." Leaning back as she's finishing her mock chastisement, her head cants backwards with a puffed out little half smile. "Yeup, just you. I even /invited/ someone.. I didn't specifically mention it was for my birthday, but I figured... hey, they're Kryptonian.. clearly they can read minds." Shaking her head, "Nope, no mind reading. Also, no kryptonian birthday cards." She doesn't really look that broken up about it though. "Maybe? Probably.. Knowing the family, they'll say leaving me alone /was/ my birthday present.. But.." flicking her hand up, pulling away to grab for her coffee and another drink. "We'll see." Again she eyes the envelope, "Are we going to address the six hundred pound gorilla envelop in the room or what?"
Dinah Lance	Dinah giggles soflty, she -tries- to look serious. She really tries to be affronted at the needling, but instead she finds herself more resisting the urge to squeeze the life out of her friend. "I... no, no it was -actual- Judo, not Star Trek Judo. I mean, I know I like to keep things entertaining and all, but trying to work in stuff from TV and movies in actual crime fighting never works out. Or it works out and looks great and then I spend the next day on the couch with an ice pack under my back weak as a kitten." Her eyebrows shoot up high as she murmurs softly, "Oh, I don't think Kryptonians can read minds. Fly, lift up mountains, freeze things, heat things, break the sound barrier, something called 'Super Knitting', but I don't think telepathy is in their wheelhouse." She smiles gently and perks her eyebrs up, "And also, I will have you know I cross lines all the time. I'm Dinah Lance, professional line crosser. You -know- me." She looks back to the envelope... and snorts softly... then giggles... then -laughs-, "Oh! It's... oh, jeeze Babs... it's just a birthday card! It's got a nice little message in it, it has an adorable puppy on the front... I uhh... okay, maybe I didn't think it through. I guess you don't need to add a card to the flowers when you're the one they're from -and- you're delivering them... it's just... reflex, right? I mean, I -do- actually do the whole florist thing legitimately, it's not like it's some weird vigilante version of a mob front!"
Barbara Gordon	"Whooooa, wait a damn second, you're telling me there's no practical application for movie fighting?" Babs eyes go wide, eyebrows high up on her head before a network of wrinkly lines, so much shock.. so much amazement. "Weak as a kitten my ass." Patting her friends cheek, the redhead grabs for the envelop, running her nail through the glue with the frequent glance up at her friend. "Well I'd /know that/ if they listed their abilities on a card sheet like the old action figures use to." Hands out to further accentuate her dramatic shrug, one hand holding the yet unopen envelop. "Now I'm disappointed and I feel silly.." She is neither, honestly, joking and all. Obvious by her smirk and resumation of cutting through glue. A smirk flashed over at Dinah's self identified accolade. "The line crosserist." Huzzah, the letter is open and Babs is slipping the card out to look it over with a smirk becoming more of a grin and then a thoughtful glance at Dinah. "Thank you. Seriously, this is adorable. All of this is adorable." Except the croissant, those are going straight to her hips. "So I'm thinking the potential Ivy weapon should go up by my computer, eh?"
Dinah Lance	Dinah lets out a little huff at the cheek patting, teeth clenching on her lower lip, trying to bite back a bright smile as she snorts softly and sighs out, "Oh, sure, but then there'd be no surprise! You gotta keep some talents as a surprise, you know, so your friends always have a chance to be thrown for a loop. She narrows her eyes thoughtfully and murmurs, "Oh my god, you -totally- have little ability writeups for like... all of us, don't you? You nerdy wonder." She frowns thoughtfully, "Oh jeeze, I'm the line crosserist? I figured I was like top three, but jeeze, number one?" She shakes her head. And then she's giggles softly and murmurs thoughtfully, "Oh, definitely! I mean... I imagine anywhere here's safe enough, unless Ivy's dropping by? But I definitely vote for by the computer." There's a brief pause, as she bites back another smile for a long moment, just staring. And then she can't help it. She blurts out cheerily, "I mean, they're pretty flowers for a pretty friend, so they ought to go where you can admire them all the time. So -totally- the computer."
Barbara Gordon	It's not easy to pass one by Babs who cuts a little smirk at Dinah's attempt not to break into a bright grin, but the redhead is still looking down at the card so totally missed it, right? Absolutely. "I'm not saying I /do/ have writeups on all of you like a GI-Joe collection, all I'm saying is if something ever happens to me? Delete my browser history." Not that one thing has anything to do with the other, mind. Squint. "On second thought, let me go do that now." This part is a joke, she goes nowhere. As if Babs would use a high powdered super computer to look up questionable content on the internet. What kind of pleb do people take her for?! "Hopefully she doesn't, but I did go check in on Harley at some reporters apartment in Brooklyn. The things that woman said..." Shaking her head steadfastly, ".. Anyways, I don't know that Ivy was there, but I bet she knows where she is." ALSO not that one thing has anything to do with the other. "Suffice to say, I doubt Ivy is coming for any social visits... so the flowers should be safe." Complete with a sly little slippery complement. One brow perks, both green eyes cut towards Dinah, "Pretty friend... Hah.. I'm wearing pajama pants after noon.. I think we both know I'm two hours too long past lazy-bitch to be considered pretty /today/." Clever twist of her head, no tint to her cheek here. "...Stiiiill..." Exageration of the head motion to go along with drawing out the vowels, "..I suppose.. if you're going to compliment me... I should /just/ say thank you." "So, thank you." Winking at her friend.
Dinah Lance	Dinah lifts one eyebrow coolly, murmuring dryly, "Oh, honey, do you -really- want to trust me to delete your browser history? You -do- realize I still don't own a computer, right? I have to go to the League if I want to... uhhh... computerize stuff?" She scowls playfully and snickers, "Okay, so yeah, I don't have a use for much computing power. And besides, I can always drop by here and get you to do that voodoo for me, right? And actually, no, wait, definitely trust me to clear your browser history. I just get to snoop through it before I hit the big delete button." And then her eyebrows perk higher, "Wait, the things the reporter said, or Harley? Was it manic ideas for new pizza toppings? Juicy gossip? Inquiring minds want to know!" And then Dinah's swaying her way over to the flowers to pick them up, peering up over the blossoms so just her eyes are visible as she chirps out, "Hey, pajamas are an any-time attire, just like fishnets. And... wait, are you a Velma or a Daphne? I mean, you're crazy bright and all, but you're -also- a redhead... hmm..." She makes faux-thoughtful murmurs, "Yeah, you're someone who's not one or the other. You, my dear friend, are a Vaphne. Or a Delma. There, see? Now you don't need to worry about compliments because I'm just -confusing- you, all part of my sinister plan."
Barbara Gordon	"Computerize stuff." Babs rolls her head into a nod, "Your way with technological terminology is astounding, babe." Reaching for her coffee with one hand, she tucks the card into the waistband of her pajamas with the other. Sleep attires ever-pocket, as it is known in certain, very small, circles. Literally only known by Babs. "If something happens and you have to delete my browser history, believe me, I'm dead.. no way would someone get to see that shit if there were a snowballs chance in hell I'd pull through... so go nuts." Look at it, download it, just don't transmit it to social media. Sip. "Harley and... all of the above? She's turning over a new leaf, going straight, no longer in the life..." Dubious other things that Babs clearly doesn't believe. "It was chaotic, but I invited her to be a probationary.. So we could keep an eye on her and see if she's pulling a fast one." She will never, ever, admit a soft spot. The Joker crippled her. Associations aren't fair, but they're real. "I always pictured myself as more of a Daria, if I'm being honest, but if I had to chose, I'd say ..." No say, only laughing, "Delma. Definitely Delma. Looks better on an ecard." Hip bump, following along with her friend towards the circling stairs leading up to the dias where the bank of computers reside. "You're not confusing me yet, but don't let that stop you from trying."
Dinah Lance	Dinah snickers and leans back to plant a little peck on Babs's cheek as she carries the flowers over, and settles them down on the desk, "Share them on social media? Honey, when I said I'd get a Twitter account 'over your dead body', that wasn't like... a contractual agreement. I just wanna be a nosey bitch and snoop in your stuff!" She shrugs lightly and smiles crookedly, "Well, if anyone could think up a way to get that crazed jester to do some good, you could. You can coordinate it I'm sure. We'll keep an eye on her, maybe throw a Birds potluck, you know, something low key to see how things go." Dinah smiles oh so brightly and bobs her head, "Oh, I'll never stop trying, Babs. One day I'll confound you, and declare victory."
Barbara Gordon	Again Babs' hand comes up to Dinah's cheek, not patting, just resting there, when the blonde pecks at hers. "Oh, yes, the snoopiest of line crossers, you are." Smirking, her hand falls down to herside, grips the envelop, and tosses it on the desk near one of the physical keyboards. There's two, and at least on projected. "You'd be bored, though. I'm boring as shit." Except when inviting Clown Princesses to join a group with some of the most advanced technology on the face of the planet, apparently. "The Birds of Prey mixer. We'll throw on a little 4 non blondes, whip up some smores, and really get down to brace tacks. A Harleyvension." Drawn to her friend, she cannot help but laugh, "When I say ''over my dead body'' that is not foreshadowing."
Dinah Lance	Dinah snorts softly, cheek warm, blushing faintly as she bites back a remark for a moment, only to blurt it out, "Oh, I don't know about that. You've never bored me when I've seen you before now!" And then she clears her throat softly, arms crossing under her chest, palms cupping elbows as she quirks an eyebrow and murmurs, "Birds of PRey mixer, s'mores, music... Babs, are you planning a slumber party because it means you -still- get to keep rocking the PJs? You brilliant fiend!" And she shakes her head and leans in, eyes flashing as she murmurs seriously, "Oh no, no foreshadowing. You're not allowed to die. I absolutely refuse to allow it."
Barbara Gordon	Snort laugh, "Have you /seen/ my pj collection?" Babs does pretty well for herself financially. Sure, a lot of that comes from Bruce start up capital, but she flipped a dollar into many more dollars. Almost all of which goes into an extensive pajama collection. This is a thing. There are a lot. "I would go to great lengths to never have to put on pants, Dinah.. I'm not even joking." Hands up, playful exasperation, "But yeah. We need to get all the Birds together, at least as many as we can anyways, for a chat. Time to crack our knuckles and get back to work." Leading right into her friends protective assurances that she's not allowed to die, "Don't you worry your pretty blonde head, babe. I've got a severe addiction to life." Despite the unnecessary morbid nature of this line of conversation, she's grinning. Because Gotham.
Dinah Lance	Dinah snickers and quirks an eyebrow, "Well, not all of it, really. I mean, I've seen -these- ones now. You offering me a fashion show?" She cocks her hips, head tilting to the opposite side like she's putting some deep, slow thought into the idea of one. Because Dinah can't -not- be snarky. She smiles crookedly but warmly. "Well, then it's settled. We get as many of the Birds together as we can. We solve, if not all crime, at least all the costumed and city-slash-world threatening stuff. Then we're rewarded for our good deeds with a lush tropical island. Pants solved. Get on it, sparky, you should have a plan to do this in like... what? A day? Day and a half?" She reaches out, arm looping around Barbara's shoulders, pulling her in as she murmurs out, "Yep, that's the new plan. Solve all crime, tropical pajama slash no pants retirement. I mean, we'll need to ease you into it, I bet the tropical sun will roast you like a beet at first."
Barbara Gordon	"I /might/ be." Babs says with a side smirk, rolling her eyes with an elbow jerking out to catch Dinah in the side. Computer nerd, maybe, but she's still got moves like... well probably not Jager? Let's hope not. She's quick, that's the moral of the story. "... I have one." A plan, adjusting her glasses up onto her brow so she can rub at the inside corners of her eyes, "But it's going to require some fancy updating of my software... which strictly speaking.. probably isn't going to be 'completely'... objectively.. I need satelite access..." Ones that don't belong to Wayne, thta is. "Suffice to say, there's some shit going on internationally that definitely could use some Birds. Once I get everything set up." And she'll need help. Which is sort of like asking for help, only not. Then there's an arm on her shoulders, Babs looking up through squinting eyes (because she can't see shit without her glasses or the mangification of her cowl), "You make it sound so painful. I suppose I'll have my broker move a few hundred thousand to Johnson and Johnson with the Aloe vera cream I'll be applying daily." A grin that is more or less also a smirk, but mostly a smirk. "First we have to solve all crime. With Judo."
Dinah Lance	Dinah huffs a little defensively, or at least like she's pretending she's defensive as she murmurs out, "Oh, we don't -all- have to use Judo..." Though she puts a playfully little petulant sulk into her tone as she makes a melodramatic little sway from that elbow, and huffs out a deep breath. She grins wide and bobs her head, "Of course you do. Anything you need for your plan that I can do, you let me know. Takeout runs, judo flips, making sure you don't just survive on bowls of fruity cereal and caffeine... I'm your gal, Babs."
Barbara Gordon	"Why not? We can make it the official fighting style of the Birds of Prey... maybe sponsor one of those MMA fighters. BoP FIGHT GYM.." Waving a long fingered hand across open air, smirking at Dinah's dramatics. "I know, D. No matter what's going on, I know I can always count on you and I love you for it." Arm around her friend, leading them back down to the living room. "Now, I have ''sooo much chicken parm'' that nobody came to eat with me last night. On a scale from one to Weight watchers, how hungry are you?"
Dinah Lance	Dinah arches one eyebrow, face deadpan. "The bop fight gym?" She lifts one hand, balls it into a gentle little fist, and swings it down to just lightly tap atop Babs's head. "Bop." And then she's shifting, swaying, hips swinging in rhythm as she snugs herself into the crook of that elbow around her waist and lifts both eyebrows high, eyes lighting up, sparkling playfully, "Oh, well, I mean... I -never- turn down chicken parm. Or free food in general, but especially chicken parm. And garlic bread. Carbs fight crime."
Barbara Gordon	"I'm going to pretend you didn't bop me on the head only because it gave me the mental image of Miesha Tate using it to knock someone out... but you've used your one free pass." They're headed down stairs too. Hard to untangle and bop someone in retort. That's what she's telling herself. "Well have a seat and find a disney movie to watch, I'll get some carbs heated up for us." Finger guiding Dinah towards the over stuffed couch situated in front of the theater sized television. Entertainment is important in this clock. "Then you can go judo chop your way out of a food coma while I sit at my computer with my fat belly hanging over my pajama pants." Grrr face, "Real vigilantes." Gone into the kitchen beneath the platform. Time to get their food on.
Dinah Lance	Dinah curls up on the couch, sinking into that softness and then craning her head to peer back and shake her head, grinning wider and stifling a laugh. "Oh, I think I'll let someone else do the judo today. I'm just gonna crash here and take a day off. Eat you out of... uhhh, I dunno, leftover chicken parm and ice cream? You -totally- have ice cream." And then she picks out Brave and hums cheerily, "Okay, food, movie and friendship. We should be solid."