Owner Pose
Radha Thackeray It is a time, in the history of the planet Earth, that comes inevitably. Deny it, demur from it, oppose it with all your strength: nevertheless, it cannot be stopped. It will come, it will pass over, and it will do what it must.

Yes... we don't speak of alien invasions, we speak of lunchtime.

Or perhaps more accurately 'a half hour or so after the actual peak of lunchtime.'

Radha Thackeray had been in conversation with someone on the Internet (her first mistake). She had allowed herself to be lulled into a false sense of security and something resembling trust over the course of several days, not hurt by the fact that several events in the general NYC area made it seem like going down the shore - in other words, to GOTHAM - was a good idea, at least until she knows whether or not the Devil is going to eat Red Hook again.

It's going to be fine, she knows.

After all, it's a college campus on a reasonably sunny day. What could go wrong?

Radha's shitty car is parked in the portion of the lot open to guests and visitors, and she has had to carry herself almost a mile across campus to get to the designated space. She is trying very hard not to sweat, because that is extremely un-chic; but it is, to a certain extent, inevitable, in the face of this level of approach.

As she approaches the side alley, she pulls up her phone and opens the messaging app for the fourth time. Purple shirt, she tells herself. Black hair. I wonder if he'll be cute. For a moment she wonders if this was wise.

She resolves herself. Into the alleyway she goes.

And there HE is - I KNEW IT, Radha thinks with triumph.

She beams, without hesitation. "Oh, hello! Hi! I hope you haven't been waiting long," she says towards WHO SHE THINKS IS DEFINITELY UltraCollectrGU#69420.

But, tragically, UltraCollectrGU#69420 is taking a nap and never intended to make this meeting. Quote UltraCollectrGU#69420: "lmao"
Tim Drake     Blessed lunchtime. It's less about the food that Tim looks forward to as it is the freedom that accompanies the midpoint of the day; freedom from four straight hours of MATH412: Partial Differential Equations and a tenured professor who has deemed his class too important for the disruption of bathroom breaks.

    Or food in the lecture hall.

    Or questions.

    Tim feels especially bad for his female classmates though they all suffer together as a group, and it's kind of like a bonding exercise, in a way. Just under duress. Extreme duress. Practically torture.

    Which, maybe he shouldn't joke about that? But Tim's actually been tortured a few times in his life so he thinks he gets a free pass on that. And it kind of looks like he's currently recovering from one such session--of legitimate torture, not Professor Chiarelli's narcissism--judging by the dark shadows under his eyes and the pallor of his face

    He's not the only overwrought, underfed, no-longer-understands-the-concept-of-sleep college student hanging out by the Onion Maiden truck, though. The Gotham University Nighthawks t-shirt he's wearing is one or two sizes too big for him and the bright purple makes the faint blue bruising under his skin all the more obvious. Right now he's sat off on his own, one leg kicked up on the edge of the crate he's using as a makeshift seat, the other hanging down so that his sneaker nearly-but-not-quite brushes the ground.

    Behind his sunglasses, he's squinting as he takes a sip of forbidden rice horchata through a paper straw, container of salad sat next to him, half-eaten. His phone's balanced on his thigh, earbuds in, looking all the world like he's not paying attention to his surroundings.

    Which is generally the way he tries to appear. But his pale blue eyes lock on Radha when she enters the alley. He doesn't recognize her, which isn't all that unusual--there are a lot of students attending Gotham U--but as she begins to approach him, alarm bells start going off in his brain.

    "Sorry? No--lunch rush is over, all of the morning classes get out at noon," he tells her.
Radha Thackeray Fortunately, while Radha has a certain delighted, not to say MANIC energy in her movements, she does not have anything resembling a weapon on her. If this is the League of Assassins, they're moving into some next level situations.

She clasps her hands together, hard enough to make the battered knapsack with its quasi-Lisa Frank-esque decoration rattle from charms on the zippers. "Oh, really! That's very convenient," Radha says, lacing her fingers together. She sinks down then, gradually, into a crouch - getting her nearer to Tim's eyes level, her own eyes wide, hopefully.

"That salad looks really good," Radha continues, as if checking something off of a list in the head.

Then, it seems, it is time for business. "I wanted to know if you brought it with you or not. I can absolutely check and confirm the authenticity," Radha continues. "Of course we didn't use slips or anything but I would know, I made most of them. If you have it with you then it won't take me more than a minute!"

She leans forwards, just a little. Hopeful. Almost eager. Just, but NOT QUITE, into the sacred barrier of personal space. Radha attempts to smile, extra-wide, but her heart isn't clearly in it.
Tim Drake     There's something wary about the set of Tim's shoulders, which have gone a shade tenser than they were before (which was already pretty tense) as Radha comes in close. He looks her up and down with barely a dip of his chin and then he sets his horchata down, slightly to the right and behind himself.

    "It's the Kale 'Em All," he says, and then points towards the menu written in chalk on the stand next to the truck. "They make their own croutons. And the dressing is really good."

    Sadly, Tim has already eaten all the croutons.

    He picks up the container though, like he's going to make a solid effort to keep eating even without the promise of delicious, crunchy carbs to entice him further. The compostable spork is in his hands. And then, with a sigh, he spears a few leaves of greens on the tines and takes the bite.

    While he chews, he blinks at Radha from behind his sunglasses. There's nothing in his posture that gives away his confusion, at least not at first. Not until he swallows, and then he's tipped his head to the side in a sort of bird-like way. "...brought what?" he asks, after a lengthy pause.

    On his left wrist, his smart watch buzzes, and he tilts it towards himself subtly to glance down at the screen. Some kind of text message alert that he swipes away with his thumb before he tucks back into his food.
Radha Thackeray Radha looks at the greens.

"That looks astounding," she says. "It's really named that? That's funny," Radha continues, looking at the menu. She taps on her teeth with one fingernail, a very quiet and skeletal tick-tick-tick, before she looks back with more of that false smile.

What comes next is probably in a BatPowerpoint somewhere, but be that as it may:

"YOU know," Radha says, before leaning closer and saying in a quieter but clear tone, "the puppet."

Straightening back up, she says, "I'm going to grab one of these though, okay? If you didn't bring it to class or anything, that's great-- but I would LOVE if I could confirm it for you and not wait all dayyyy...?" Radha states, as she rises upwards with a rustle of organza-oid fabric and then flounces over to examine the menu in more detail.

("Give me the Kale 'em All and the Emperor... my god, really, the Emperor Palpatots? Oh, and this Red Wedding Iced Tea, that looks really good. Real blood oranges?")

While not looking at Tim, Radha is able to steel herself. This has to just be that he's being cagey. He thinks it's a unique collectible, Radha thinks, and he probably got it at a thrift shop or something. Well, that's fine.
Tim Drake     The next bite Tim takes is slow and measured. His spork scrapes along the bottom of the paper take-out container and as he chews, he pushes his sunglasses up onto the top of his head. With the length his hair has grown to, it doesn't really stick up awkwardly any more, just falls over the lenses and doesn't quite brush his eyebrows any more.

    "I really don't," he says flatly.

    When Radha mentions going to get food he gestures her in that direction, relief slackening his expression. Yes, please, go-- "I'm not going to confirm anything."

    Especially since he has no idea what she's talking about. His eyes narrow. "Do you know who I am?"

    ...what precisely he just said hits him a second later, and Tim rolls his eyes at himself. Great, now he's like every rich kid living large on his daddy's money.

    He makes no attempts to be subtle as he watches Radha approach the truck to put in her order, eyebrows drawn together as he does so. Less obvious is the way he snaps a picture of her, not quite getting a full image of her face, but he runs it through a facial recognition algorithm anyway. And the whole time it really just looks like Tim is the stereotypical bored Gen X-er, scrolling through his feed or something. Can't go more than a few minutes without being on his phone.
Radha Thackeray He doesn't know what she means.
He won't confirm anything.
Does she know who he is?

Radha blinks while passing over her $20 to receive her vegan taste treets. From this angle Tim can get a good read of her general appearance, her personal carriage. She seems uptight. Physical fitness mediocre. Fighting training: 'maybe she took a karate class once.' She purses her lips for a moment, and then she steps closer even as her face gets run through algorithms.

No match from the mugshot inventory... so that's good.

Search longer... no match from recent news reports in Gotham and environs... and also no match in English-language media. (Radha has a flatness in her voice that suggests a suppressed British accent.)

Radha receives her drink and walks over then, clearing her throat.

"I'm... sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. Are you alright?" She leans forwards then to say quietly, "I'm DBLGuavaLassi from the Discord. Alright? We were talking. I'm sorry I didn't get your number but I was getting the feeling you didn't want to share it. Here, I can prove it to you," a pause to sip her beverage, "let me get on -"

Her phone is out. She checks.

"You're offline," she states. "or invisible I guess."

A cloud passes in front of the Sun.
Tim Drake     His watch vibrates against his wrist again.

    Text from: Reese
    not gonna make it to the party man

    Coded message from the Roost computer. No matches in any of the criminal databases he has access to. Tim swipes the notification away while taking another slurp of his horchata. The rest of his salad's gone now, put away in a few even bites. Condensation drips from his cup down onto the asphalt in front of his crate-seat.

    "I'm not embarrassed," he says. Tired, definitely. Wary and guarded, too. On the inside? Very confused and mildly concerned, but Tim's not letting that show. Living a double life tends to help with your compartmentalizing.

    Mention of her Discord username makes him tip his head to the side again, and the movement jostles the sunglasses on his head. As he reaches up to adjust them with his free hand, his arm twists subtly so he can check the notification that's just come through.

    Text from: Reese
    sorry, just not feeling it tonight

    Nothing from a deeper search. Huh. His gaze drops to her phone when it comes out, and he tips forward a little bit like he wants to take a peek at her screen. "Who's UltraCollectrGU?" He's down to the last bit of his horchata, making an obnoxious slurping sound as he finishes it. Every drop's worth it. He's fully addicted. "I'm not him, if that's what this whole," he waves his empty cup between himself and Radha. "Thing has been about."

    A second or two passes before he adds, "Sorry."
Radha Thackeray Further analyses reveal plausible matches for Radha in a middle-school group activity photo from 9 or 10 years ago from the outer districts of New York. It's tenuous when you're dealing with people who are growing, of course, but she has a kind of distinctive eye shape.

"I don't want to embarrass you," Radha says quietly. "I know what it's like to have hobbies you don't want to share. Frankly I - wait."

Radha looks at her phone.

Then back upwards, at Tim.

Then back down.

Up again. "I thought he was you. Look at this -- here, here--"

Scrolling up past cryptic conversations and what look like blurry camera photos of some kind of battered old puppet. DBLGuavaLassie seems to think that she was involved in the creation of this. There's jargon involving toy collection probably. It would be very easy to parse this as nerdy flirtation. But the ending was --

"-- he said the vegan food truck, do you have..."

At this point Radha runs out of spiritual momentum and palms her face. She is silent for long enough for it to be awkward, during which she breathes heavily, eyes closed, as if focusing on not completely losing her shit.

Eventually - six or seven seconds - she says, "I had it all completely wrong, didn't I," without looking up.
Tim Drake     Text from: Reese
    pupper says hi tho
    <image attached>

    This time Tim has to actually look at his phone. For the pupper pic, of course, which is actually that middle school photo that pinged his facial recognition tech. He's careful about how he keeps his phone tilted towards himself so that Radha can't see the screen.

    He closes his messages app and then leans forward so he can slide his phone into his back pocket.

    "Yeah, thanks, I don't know if I can take more teasing about how many hours I've put into EVE Online," Tim says, and the tone of his voice is heavy with unease. Except then the corner of his mouth lifts, and his eyes are bright. He's joking.

    He's also a fast reader, so he gets the basic idea of the conversation DBLGuavaLassie has been having with UltraCollectrGU. "Well, purple is one of the school colors, so I have no idea if this is just a missed connections thing or what. But," and he offers Radha a small smile. "You'd think he would have contacted you by now, yeah? Sorry if you got stood up."

    As he says that, Tim reaches to pat Radha on the arm lightly. The movement's awkward, like he's unsure, which is probably the deepest glimpse into Tim's actual personality that Radha's gonna get here in this moment.

    Then he gathers up the detritus from his lunch, and he slings his backpack over one shoulder before he carries it all over to the truck. Compostable stuff goes in the green bin, recyclable stuff in the blue one, and the scant amount of actual trash leftover goes in the last, black bin.
Radha Thackeray Radha seems to be quivering faintly. She is accepting what this nice, hot guy is saying. It just doesn't feel good. When her arm is touched, it passes things along a certain critical point and she ALMOST squeezes her beverage hard enough to make it bust.

Almost. The lid is disrupted.

"It isn't your fault, I'm just trying to do something and it's really complex and when people like this jerk me around, you know, it hurts, and then of course I want to give up except I can't and it's awful and -- I'm sorry, I'm dumping."

Radha nudges her drink's lid back on and takes a long, soothing sip of the blood orange.

She looks up to meet Tim's eyes for a moment.

"I'm also sorry I came off weird. Have a good day, alright?" She raises the phone up to salute, with something resembling an actual smile afterwards. "And if you do see anyone named this, can you please punch him for me? Just the once, you know," Radha says, standing up, indicating her abdomen, "a little bit, here."

She smiles, as if she is joking.

RADHA IS NOT JOKING.

After this she goes to collect her order, which she will eat, alone, in her shitty car.

MEANWHILE: UltraCollectrGU is in queue for League of Legends.
Tim Drake     Tim blinks his way through the explanation dump that Radha gives him with as straight a face as he can muster, which to his credit is basically flawless. Internally, though, he's trying to parse if this is all for real, or if it's some sort of ploy.

    It doesn't feel like a ploy. But he's tired, and on edge, and he already feels like there's a target on his back, thanks to certain events that have occurred recently.

    So he stays quiet. He nods at Radha when she looks up at him, goes to dispose of his trash, and then he flips his sunglasses down onto his face.

    It's not quite a smooth maneuver, though, because he has to scrunch his nose a couple of times to get them settled properly.

    "It's okay. You're not from here, yeah?" Tim doesn't let on quite how he means, though he heavily suspects she's not from his city. "Just be careful. Gotham isn't always the nicest place, and I mean, I hope UltraAssholeGU isn't actually a student here because it'd suck if someone would abuse the goodness of Onion Maiden to put you in a tight spot like this, but if he is, I'll definitely punch him."

    He smiles, and then tips his head. "Anyway, it was nice to meet you."

    That he doesn't actually exchange names with her is a purposeful move, and as Tim walks away he pulls out his phone.

    New text to: Black Hat
    hey, what can you dig up on a Discord user by the name of UltraCollectrGU#69420?
    i'll bring food