Owner	Pose
Roy Harper	It's a Sunday night on the campus of Gotham University. Foot traffic is very light, and the campus is mostly settled in for the night. A light snowfall has just finished, decorating everything in a thin veneer of white. Roy Harper is walking alone, in his civvies, hands jammed in his pockets. His breath feathers out into the night air. He has that look about him, a look of someone who is up to something suspicious. He glances around a few times, then makes his way to the side of one of the academic buildings that isn't well lit. There's someone else there, in the shadows. Roy walks up to the figure. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of some bills, handing it to the man in the shadows. He, in turn, gives a small baggy to Roy. The two quickly part ways. Roy, with his six-month sobriety chip in his front pants pocket, heads off with a bag of Rapture in his pocket and a stoic expression on his face.
Helena Wayne	Gotham U isn't normally on Huntress' patrol route; she's claimed the Amusement Mile as her own. These days, however, Helena has found it convenient to pack her 'evening costume' and simply change after her night class on campus. It's an extension of her patrol, but that's not necessarily a bad thing either. Drug trafficking is a common problem everywhere, and Gotham is no exception. After a semester on campus Huntress knows the main drops, and has even snagged a few of the minor dealers. Street level folks mostly, but it's a start. Roy no sooner turns away with the man in the shadows when he hears a loud cry of pain behind him. Right about the same time he hears the familiar sound of a metal-tipped shaft going <thunk> into a wall. The bolt was already in flight when Huntress started her descent from the third floor rooftop. A streak of black and purple lands between the two after a graceful, two-and-a-half summersault with a half-twist on the landing. The dealer isn't going anywhere; his wrist is nailed to the wall. Instead she turns towards the buyer... Roy. "Stop right there. And you really don't want to run." The voice has a familiar ring to it, although perhaps more rasp and gravel in the tone.
Roy Harper	Probably most of Huntress' captures respond with fight or flight. Go after her and get the shit kicked out of them or run away and get the shit kicked out of them. But Roy's response is...different. He lets out an honest, genuine laugh as he looks Huntress up and down. "And who, exactly, are you supposed to be?" he asks. "Did Catwoman throw away an old costume and you found it in an alley?" He shakes his head and he turns to start walking away. "You're in over your head tonight, lady," he says as he continues strolling away. "Stick with the dealer over there and save yourself the headache. Literally."
Helena Wayne	Catwoman? There's a 'your mama' joke in there somewhere, except Catwoman really WAS Helena's mother. For some reason she actually finds that funny, although she suppresses the chuckle. "The dealer's not going anywhere." she replies. "And neither are you, so long as you're carrying that evidence." Evidence. Yeah, that's what it's called, alright. Then he turns to start walking away. "Oh no you don't." she replies. Her footsteps are light, but then he feels the hand on his left shoulder. "Easy way or hard way. All the same to me."
Roy Harper	Okay people don't just go putting their hands on Roy. He doesn't like that. In one instant he's moving away and a hand is touching his shoulder, and in the next he's moving like lightning to perform a combat throw on Huntress the likes of which college students don't learn in karate class. It's a military-grade combat maneuver executed with expert precision and timing. This is a dude with high-level training. As established, Huntress is the superior fighter but perhaps this takes her by surprise? "Lady, next time you put hands on me you're gonna need an ambulance."
Helena Wayne	You don't initiate a confrontation without expecting trouble, although Huntress wasn't expecting -that-. Roy makes the grab and executes the throw. By all rights the woman should be flat on her back right now. Except she somehow lands on her feet. (Mom said to always land on your feet...) He might recognize the ready-stance... mixed martial arts, open hand, relaxed and confident. Purple lips draw into a wry smile. "You didn't learn -that- in self-defense class." she quips. "Looks like we're doing this the hard way, then."
Roy Harper	Apparently the two now realize they are engaging in a potentially very deadly fight against an opponent who possesses singular, lethal skillsets. For a moment, Roy instinctively falls back into a battle stance. Again, this isn't karate class kata stance. This is a Navy S.E.A.L., special forces-level battle stance. But then...his eyes narrow a bit and the strangest thing happens. He laughs. He actually lets out a laugh and stands up straight, leaving himself completely helpless. If Huntress wanted to right now, she could execute any one of a number of maneuvers and put Roy down in a moment. "You know, you're wrong about something," he quips. "Malted chocolate peanut butter pretzel milkshakes are the best milkshakes."
Helena Wayne	Helena Wayne moves right as he straightens and lets out that laugh. Her intent is to disable as painlessly as possible. After all, military training or not, this guys is still only a civilian. Right? Roy just gets out the quip about milkshakes when she starts the leg sweep. Wait-what? Too late to pull up; she's committed now. At least she's fast enough to continue the rotation and catch him on the way down. "Goddammit..." she mutters.
Roy Harper	Roy gets swept. I mean, let's face it, he was standing up straight and not on guard and his opponent is straight-up an expert. It just is what it is. He goes down. But he gets caught on the way down by Huntress, and he just sort of stays there, not resisting. A snapshot of this moment might make it look like two people practicing ballroom dancing -- with Huntress leading -- rather than two deadly warriors fighting. He smiles up at Huntress in that charming, disarming way of his. That maddeningly cute grin that has gotten him out of at least as many scrapes as his battle skills. "So now what?" he says, peering up at the costumed Huntress.
Helena Wayne	Helena Wayne is holding him by the shoulders in that classic 'dip' pose, their faces just inches apart. She gazes into his eyes through her mask's optics, purple lips curling into a sardonic smile when he flashes that grin. That damned grin! Huntress isn't used to that sort of approach. At. All. When he speaks at last, she reacts the only way she knows how. She drops him. It's only about six inches to the asphalt, and she makes sure that his head doesn't hit too hard. Probably regret that later. Deep breath, exhale slowly. "Now what? You tell me that you're not as stupid as I'm about to accuse you of being."
Roy Harper	Roy agilely kips up to his feet. He reaches into his pocket of his leather jacket and produces the baggy of drugs his just bought and tosses it to Huntress with one hand as he rubs the back of his head with his other hand. "I'm an alcoholic and I'm a drug addict," he replies in the tone of voice that he might use to casually announce that he has red hair and green eyes. He shrugs. "And I'll always be an alcoholic and a drug addict." Finally he jams both hands in his jacket pockets against the cold winter air. "It's been just over six months since I used." He looks now at Huntress with a calm but serious expression that seems to suggest 'This is who I am. Do what you will.'
Helena Wayne	Helena Wayne snatches the bag out of the air, her gaze focused more on his face. The woman straightens as well, and that's when she hears the dealer whimpering and struggling and still unable to pull his hand free of the bolt that's nailed him to the wall. "Excuse me a moment." she replies, bending to pick up... an empty bottle. That'll do nicely. She gives it a deft throw, tossing it like a knife. *PING!* *THUD!* The glass ricochets off of his skull and the dealer collapses unconscious. "We don't air our dirty laundry in front of the bad guys." she instructs softly. The little bag of evidence gets tucked away as Huntress... Helena... steps closer. Right up into his personal space before she stops. Eye to eye. "So how are you doing with that?" she replies softly.
Roy Harper	Roy tugs one hand out of his jacket pocket and jams it into his jeans pocket, pulling something out. It's a blue chip, like a coin or poker chip or something. "How am I doing with that?" he asks with a mirthless, single laugh. "I just bought illegal narcotics from someone I actually busted as Arsenal several times. And if it wasn't for you, I'd be sitting somewhere getting high as fuck right now. And this..." He flips the coin once, catches it, and then turns it around so Huntress can see it. It's a six-month sobriety coin. "...would be just a piece of worthless plastic in my pocket."
Helena Wayne	Helena Wayne's smile softens a little at his bold admission, and her head tilts as well. Reaching to her mask, she flips the lenses up on her optics to let him see her big, blue eyes. That gloved hand starts to reach out to him, fingers open as she pauses a few inches away. "What do you need?" she asks him softly. "Talk? Fight? Milkshake? Long walk on the beach under the moonlight?"
Roy Harper	In a way, Roy would probably rather get beat up than have someone ask him a question as ruthless as 'What do you need?'. He re-pockets the coin, more precious to him than he probably consciously realizes it is, and jams his hands back into his jacket pockets. "I don't know what I need. A kick in the ass? A different brain that isn't so fucked up? A re-do on the past, I dunno, nineteen years?" He actually manages a small chuckle as he shakes his head. "Can you do me a solid?" he asks. "Unpin shit-for-brains over there and let him go? He's here because I called him. Maybe the both of us could use a pass for one night?"
Helena Wayne	Huntress purses those purple lips at the request, but she steps over to the unconscious dealer. Giving the bolt a hard twist, she jerks it free of his hand and lets him slump the rest of the way to the pavement. A quick check... yes, he's bleeding. But slowly. Turning back to... Arsenal?... then, she keeps the bolt free. It's still bloody, after all. "No freebies." she declares. "Favor for a favor. I want your real name and number. Right now. Then I want an answer to a hard question."
Roy Harper	"Fine," Roy answers immediately, with no thought. He's completely comfortable sharing that information with her. He gestures in Huntress' direction with a flick of his chin. "Gimme yer phone," he says. Assuming she hands over a phone, Roy will type in the requested information. Roy Harper and his phone number. "What's the question?"
Helena Wayne	Helena Wayne hands over her phone, and a moment later she types something on it. 'Helena Wayne', along with her number, texted to his phone. "I just sent you my contact info as well. You may have... questions." Wayne? Yeah, probably. Not exactly an unfamiliar name in Gotham, after all. "Do you want my help? I don't offer lightly, so make damned sure that you mean it if you say so."
Roy Harper	When his phone bleeps, Roy slides it out of his pocket and glances at it. He blinks once, twice, and a third time. "Wayne?" he asks. "Like Wayne as in /Wayne/ Wayne? Like...Wayne?" He looks back up at Helena. "As in Wayne?"
Helena Wayne	Helena Wayne lifts a gloved, index finger and almost holds it to his lips. "Don't dodge the question." she replies. "Either way, I promise to tell you the story. The *whole* story." Purple lips draw into a small, amused smile, then. "But it'll take more than a couple of milkshakes." "So back to my question: Do you want my help with this thing or not?"
Roy Harper	Roy tips his head first in one direction, then in another. He looks Huntress up and down appraisingly. It's not any kind of sexual appraisal, more of an attempt to decide if she can be trusted for not. He gestures to her with a flick of his chin. "What does 'help' mean exactly? I mean, I have a sponsor. I'm going to have to call her as soon as I'm done talking to you. She needs to know I was half an inch from using tonight."
Helena Wayne	Helena Wayne nods slowly to that. "Right, a sponsor." A sponsor is good, and she's a little familiar with these type of programs. "I'm glad you're calling your sponsor, first of all. That's what she's there for." A pause, while she considers. "I'm sure your sponsor is dedicated and will take your call without question, even at this hour." "But your sponsor wasn't here for the sale. She wasn't there when you made the deal. I'm offering to be your second conscience, if you will. A higher level of accountability." She pauses, then, briefly biting her lower lip. "You need something more, Roy. I'm not sure what it is, but I'd like to help you figure that out."
Roy Harper	For several long moments, Roy stares at Huntress. Shit is firing inside his brain as he tries to figure all of this out. A Wayne busted him buying drugs and now wants to help him, to be his super sponsor as it were. "Alright," he says. "You got a deal. My sponsor doesn't know about who I am, obviously. So as amazing as she is, she does not know the full story, can't ever know the full story. So yeah," he says, shrugging one shoulder a bit. "You're probably right. I do need more." He licks dry lips as he contemplates this new avalanche of events. With a soft, vulnerable tone he asks, "Will you help me?"
Helena Wayne	Helena Wayne draws a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Then she nods. "Of course I will." And she even looks a bit relieved at his response. Likely because it means she won't have to kick his ass. Not tonight, at least. Helena is pretty sure that she could, but she's definitely sure that she'd know she'd been in a fight afterward. Not the way she'd planned on spending the evening. "You go make your call, Roy. I'm going to change, then we need to have a long talk. Milkshake or coffee?"
Roy Harper	Roy smiles as he starts walking away. "Coffee. Shannon's Grill. I'll text you."