10828/You rang

You rang
Date of Scene:	22 January 2020
Location:	Cineplex - Salem Center
Synopsis:	Artemis and Drake share some pre-movie banter about what exactly normal is.
Cast of Characters:	Volt, Artemis Crock

---

Volt has posed:
It's been a little while since a chance run-in with Artemis, but Drake hadn't forgotten about her. He'd just been busy; training. Familiarizing himself with new gear. Working day after day to improve, to hone. But now, he feels like celebrating. He can't exactly say why he's celebrating, even if being inducted officially into a superheroic team, but it can be a celebration to him. And what better way to celebrate than to make himself extremely nervous by asking a girl out?

Makes perfect sense. For an eighteen-year-old.

The plan's simple. A movie. Nothing crazy, just a movie. A chance to chill, in classic Americana style. He arrived at the theater earlier than scheduled, having to take public transport. But he'd already picked up the tickets, currently just waiting on the sidewalk in front of the building. Hands are stuffed in the pockets of his parka, gaze alertly flicking to all the arriving or oncoming vehicles.

Artemis Crock has posed:
It's Artemis' lucky day - her motorcyle is running and she has gas money. It's not exacty flashy. The bike is old, pieced together, and well-repaired. But it's transportation and it's paid for, and no one tries to steal it (even in Gotham), so she keeps it around. She pulls into a parking spot near the entrance then pulls off her helmet, tossing it into a lockable box on the back before heading toward the entrance.

Date or not, she seems to have gone for casual in jeans, a t-shirt, and a close-fitting leather jacket, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Catching sight of Drake as she comes closer, she raises a hand to wave with a small smile.

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley's expression brightens upon the removal of the helmet. There she is! She isn't wearing anything particularly special, but truth be told, neither is he. Cargos, sneakers, a blue t-shirt - nothing to write home about. But her simple presence is appreciated more than enough to make up for it. After all, she /is/ pretty. And she agreed to this. That counts for a fair amount, too.

His hand lifts quickly to greet her. "Hey." And when she gets closer, he quickly fishes out a ticket to offer her. "I've not needed saving, but I figured /you/ might need saving. From boredom." He bobs the ticket at her with a playful grin. "That line sounded cooler in my head."

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Did it? You worked on it while you waited, didn't you?" Artemis grins briefly, calling him on it as she takes the ticket. "The good news is, Spider-Man doesn't need to watch his back. The other good news is it wasn't //that// bad." Once she has the ticket in hand she hesitates ever so slightly, as if she's not quite sure what her next step should be.

"Sorry, //that// sounded better in //my// head," she chuckles, rueful. "What I meant to say was thanks for calling, I was starting to forget how to have a good time. How've you been? Get jumped by any would-be muggers lately?"

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley shakes his head at her, tossing those hanging bangs in the motion. "Nah. I think Team Mugger got pretty demoralized with how much of an ass-kicking you gave'em," he notes.

His smile has warmed a bit at her minor flub. Makes her more accessible; gives him a chance to relax a little in the otherwise tense setup. He turns a little and offers an elbow to her in an antiquaited, but continuing playful manner. "I've ben keeping pretty busy. Working out, doing some me-work, that kind'a thing. So this is.. y'know, nice."

Artemis Crock has posed:
"You-work, huh?" Artemis arches a brow with a faint smile as she takes the offered arm, still a little awkward about it. She's not particularly used to this whole thing, it seems. "What kind of you-work? Are we talking gym, or are we talking therapy?"

Is she kidding? It's hard to tell if she's kidding.

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley snorts softly. "Nah, my current level of weird is what you're stuck with," he chides, complete with a sidelong tilt to bump shoulder to shoulder with her. "Like gym stuff. Training. Physical conditioning." Learning how to use flash filament, smokebombs, grappling hook ziplines, honing hand-to-hand combat. She doesn't need to know this stuff. "Y'look good," he compliments, apropos of nothing, as he begins guiding her into the theater lobby.

Naturally, he tugs the door open to allow her first entry.

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Hey, I can deal with weird," Artemis snorts softly, stepping through the doorway. "It's the real broken stuff you gotta watch out for. But hey, good for you," she nods, giving him a look as if to gauge if she sees any changes. "Any particular reason? Or just hitting up the New Years Resolutions like everyone else?"

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley looks more or less the same. Perhaps a little more tense. But that's unrelated. He enters after her and opts for another joke, "Well, there's this crazy badass girl I'm kind'a into, so I thought I should step up my game." A coy smile is shot in her direction. "Now to wreck all that with empty carbs."

He tries to guide her towards the snack bar. "You're not one of those people who refuses butter on popcorn, are ya?"

Artemis Crock has posed:
"You mean a complete and utter monster? No, no I am not," Artemis replies archly, reaching over to give his arm a playful punch. Even playful though, it's clear that she knows what she's doing with it. Some habits are too ingrained to hide, even for someone with practice hiding things. "Don't tell me I damged your fragile masculinity by saving you," she teases. "//That's// the sort of thing you end up having to go to therapy for, you know."

Volt has posed:
Whump.

Through the soft material of the parka, Artemis can likely feel the sturdy male frame beneath. Her obvious skill with punching isn't even a remote surprise for him, however, given what he'd seen from her on their last encounter. He does, however, give a grunt and moues his lips at her. "Masculinity intact. Besides, confidence in a woman's-," he catches his mental train, causing a verbal hitch, but continues, "-pretty hot."

Was that too much? Too forward? Redirect! REDIRECT!

"So!," eyes abruptly forward, Drake focuses on the options ahead. "Popcorn's obviously a thing. Anything else? Milkduds? Sour.. worms?"

Artemis Crock has posed:
Artemis quirks a brow at the comment, but she doesn't press it. Not yet, at least. "Coke," she says after a moment, eyeing the menu board. "Twizzlers?" she suggests, a smile tugging at one corner of her lips. "Might as well go whole hog with the sugar if we're going to be celebrating getting in shape and the like."

Hands in her pocket, she gives him a sidelong look in turn, speculative. "You know, I don't think I ever asked what it is you do, Drake."

Volt has posed:
"Not a lot right now," Drake admits, stealing an emerald-hued glance in her direction before quickly refocusing on the menu. "I came here to take a look around. Y'know, check out life in New York. Turned into an official adult, seemed like the best thing to do was find my footing. Get out of my bubble." Half-truths, at best. But it's not the first time he's played the 'wayward wanderer' card. "Some people have suggested I do university out here, but I dunno. S'crazy expensive."

Stepping forward, he makes the order. One pack of Twizzlers - those crazy long ones - two Cokes, and a large buttered popcorn.

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Stupid expensive," Artemis agrees, the voice of experience. "But it beats getting stuck in the lost place where you don't know where you're going or end up getting wrapped up in...other things." She puts a few pieces together from what he says then huffs a low laugh to herself, shaking her head. "Official adult, huh? Well, that makes me feel a little bit better at least."

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley looks aside to her again, this time more directly. "What? Did'ja think you were on a date with jailbait?," he teases brazenly. 'Other things', however? Whatever could that mean?

His attention is stolen briefly to the worker on the other side of the counter. He takes out his wallet, and a very non-descript card is produced to pay. No associated bank on display, no easily identified crediting company or logo. But it seems to go through just fine, and he quickly pockets his wallet again. Popcorn, one coke, and Twizzlers are gathered up.

"So, what do you do with /your/ time? Besides Tae Bo or whatever that was earlier," he teases.

Artemis Crock has posed:
"I mean, I had a moment where I worried," Artemis admits with a more genuine laugh. "I go to school. College," she clarifies with a dry note in her voice. "Senior year. Planning on going to law school next year, but like you said, it's stupid expensive. So in the meantime, I work a bunch of little jobs to make ends meet and try not to have to take all of the loans in the world. Bartending, barista type stuff mostly. And that," she adds, smirking, "Was not tae bo. But nice try."

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley bobs his shoulders in a boyishly casual shrug. "I don't know all the finer points of Kung-Fu treachery. Looks cool as Hell, though. And obviously effective. S'no wonder you look so in-shape." His gaze dips briefly in a deliberate, intended-to-be-noticed glance over her. Not that she's dressed to show off her figure; it's meant more as an unspoken point of conversation. She looks good. He's noticed.

Onwards!

Drake begins guiding towards the ticket-taker. "Law school, huh? Why?"

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Well, I manage to find the time to work out too," Artemis admits with a laugh at the look. "Keeps me sane. But. Law school because there's a lot of screwed up stuff in the world, and I want to believe there's a way to fix it. A right, good way. Maybe I'll turn out to be wrong, but..." She trails off for a momnt, sobering as she thinks about it. "But I want to at least try to fix things the right way, you know?"

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley knits his brow as she talks, studying her a little more closely. "That's something that means a lot to ya, huh? Trying to... make things better?," he asks. He can dig that. And it might tweak the way he contextualizes what she did before. It's curious. "Thinking about being a prosecutor, or defense attorney?"

And then he blinks, suddenly wide-eyed. "Wait, is this too heavy for a date? I think it might be too heavy."

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Public defender, probably. I dunno. It's a while off still," Artemis shrugs, though a smile flickers at his question. She shakes her head. "No, it's cool. I'd rather talk about that than who wore what to the Oscars. Or TV," she adds, rueful. "Don't have a lot of time to watch TV between work and school and working out."

Volt has posed:
"Oh, I'm /way/ out of touch with t.v. And to be honest, I dunno jack about this movie we're about to see. Mostly just wanted the excuse." Drake shoots her a modest, but earnest smile at that confession.

Tickets are turned over to the tender, and pointed in the direction of the screening. Once clear, Drake refocuses on Artemis. "It's just, law school seems really dull for someone like you. I would've expected something more exciting. Stunt woman, maybe."

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Excitement's not everything," Artemis shrugs. "I've done excitement. My parents did excitement. It didn't work out great for them. Thus, the part where I try being normal and healthy and...I dunno. A responsible member of society." She takes the coke, taking a sip from the straw with a hint of a smile. "Sometimes the small stuff makes a bigger difference than the flashy stuff."

Volt has posed:
"I dunno. I liked the flashy stuff I was seeing last time. Just sayin'."

The two round off into the expansive room, reasonably filled with other patrons, but not exactly packed. Drake proceeds to about midway through the room before turning to the blonde. "Alright, critical question time. Are you more of a sit-close-to-the-screen girl, or a hide-in-the-back type?" He hadn't intended it originally, but when the implications of his wording hit him after a beat. He tries not to grin at her. He didn't mean it like that! At least not originally!

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Well hey, I did say //sometimes//," Artemis points out, wry. "I doubt that quoting a bunch of statutes at that group would've had quite the same impact. Also," she continues, turning to walk backwards away from him and toward the front of the theater, "I seem to remember you sounding pretty //worried// about the flashy stuff at the time." She arches a brow, grin spreading in the low light of the theater. "I can't say I was sensing a whole lot of trust about where things were going at the time."

Volt has posed:
"Hey, I didn't know you were Artemis, Amazon Queen," Drake asserts with a snicker as he follows. "And I'm not saying I wouldn't /worry/ about you. I don't want you getting hurt, y'know? But now I know you can more than handle yourself..."

Artemis Crock has posed:
"I'm not the one I thought you were worried about then, either," Artemis laughs, making her way down the row to the middle of the seats and sitting down, deep in the center of the action. "It seemed like you were a little more worried about what I might do to //them//. As you saw, though, I am a merciful queen," she says, playfully arch. "None need suffer any more than strictly necessary."

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley follows along to sit beside her without much ado. "There was a lot to process. And you had that look, y'know?" Beat. "And a knife. Knives put me on edge." Pun! "So yeah. Oh, maybe you should be a pit fighter." He slots his Coke into the cupholder. "I'd totally pay to watch that," he muses, side-eyeing the blonde next to him.

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Pit fighter," Artemis snorts softly. "Well, it'd be one way to pay for law school, right?" Waggling her brows, she leans over to take some of the popcorn, tipping her head back to drop it into her mouth piece by piece. "Don't think I don't see you shifting the topic back to me, you know," she says afterwards, giving him a long look. "Mister, I moved out to the cities here and now I go to the gym and stuff."

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley drawls an, "Mmhm~," at the idea of her pit fighting. Seeing her in action can be exciting in a controlled environment. Less likely for anyone to die or be mutilated! Sure, he has to assume pits aren't exactly the safest or most legal, but it has that right amount of edgy danger-

His thoughts are jarred when the topic is shifted back onto him. "I mean I did!," he protests, bemused. "Went from one end of the country to the other. From Los Angeles. Did I tell ya that before?," he asks. "See, normally I would've asked ya out to a beach. But, y'know. January."

Artemis Crock has posed:
"And also, the beaches around here aren't exactly LA quality," Artemis grins, reaching for more popcorn. Still, there's a certain edge in the way she looks at him. She knows there are holes in his story. She's just...not pushing yet. Yet. "Movie's nice though. I don't get out for a movie often enough."

Volt has posed:
"No, they're not. But they're still beaches," Drake notes. "I love'em. Warm sand, fresh air, relaxed dresscodes..." He slants her a playful side-eye before looking at the idle advertisement crawl on screen again. "I don't hit the movies much either, these days. It feels really... I dunno. Normal? And life's not been normal for a while, so that makes it anti-normal." His head turns again to look at her. "Does that make sense?"

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Perfect sense," Artemis agrees easily. "Normal's a relative thing, after all. What was the old normal for you?" She leans into one corner of her chair, all the better to watch him when he answers. She sips from her straw, reaching over for another handful of popcorn to go with the show.

Volt has posed:
'The show' is little more than a still frame advertising a cellphone, all set to elevator music. They're a little early yet.

Drake tilts the popcorn towards her helpfully as he answers, "Depends. Real normal, or outside-normal? Real normal was running with a gang, tagging property, hotwiring cars.. uh.. hoodrat stuff." He moves a foot to gently bump her shoe. "Good thing I know a lawyer."

"But outside-normal, it's beaches, some surfing, the arcade, movies... you know, /normal/ stuff," he emphasizes. That's normal for everyone, right?

Artemis Crock has posed:
The 'show' right now is Drake, and whatever tale he spins. Because Artemis is watching while she listens, eyes just a little bit sharper than the faintly amused smile at one corner of her lips can match. "Yeah, I don't know about that outside normal," she laughs, wry. "The real normal sounds a little more like normal to me. Born and raised in Gotham," she gestures to herself pointedly. "Finding a place that //hasn't// been tagged is more of an accomplishment."

Volt has posed:
"I come from L.A. I know how it is," Drake remarks, in similar wry tone. "But Gotham has, like, clowns. Right? That's weird, isn't it? Or am I the weird one for thinking it's weird?"

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Everything about Gotham is weird," Artemis rolls her eyes, smile crooked. "Clowns. Guys who do things with penguins. But to be fair, it's not like the rest of the world is swimming in normalcy at this point either. Gotham just gets a lot of crime to go with it. And a crappy economy. So what drew you out here? Did you have plans?"

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley crinkles his nose at her. Penguins? Penguins are cute, though. Is she talking about a circus? Whatever. She asked a question, after all, and it's an interesting one.

Lips purse, then skew aside as he considers. "Yeah? Sort'a? Not really? I came out here to get noticed," he replies. "I didn't have any follow-up planned for that. But that's why a lot of people go to California. I just did it backwards."

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Ah, so all this extra gym time is so you can make it in the New York television scene?" Artemis teases, arching a brow playfully. "Well now it all makes sense. You let me know if you need to hire a bodyguard to keep all the teenage girls from swarming your trailer."

Volt has posed:
"Ohh, is that what we'd be calling it?," chides Drake as he leans back from her coyly. "Bodyguarding? Not 'staking claim'?" He bobs an eyebrow at her in deliberately goofy, teasing manner.

"Nah, I didn't care about getting on t.v. or anything. Just being seen. That probably doesn't make any sense, but belonging somewhere, or.. /whatever/... was just something that mattered to me. I didn't belong where I was."

Artemis Crock has posed:
Artemis barks a laugh, tossing a couple of pieces of popcorn at him in response. "Hey, if you //want// to get swarmed by fans, far be it from me to interfere," she replies, raising her hands palms out. "Whatever floats your boat."

At the last, she tilts her head a bit, mulling it over. "Yeah, I can get that," she finally nods. "It's hard, being somewhere you don't fit. But at least you've got a feeling for where you do fit."

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley gently batbats at the popcorn kernels tossed his way, managing to deflect exactly none of them. But he picks them off of his coat to pop them into his mouth, anyway. And while he's munching on those and she's talking, he squirms out of the parka to drape over the back of his chair, all while not spilling popcorn. Pro.

At last, now in just the t-shirt for upper-wear, he refocuses on Artemis. There's a softer smile and nod. "Yeah. I do," he replies in a more sincere tone. He had to fight for it, but he's finally letting himself breathe. Life did /not/ take a linear path with him.

"Here." He offers his hands towards her to remove her jacket, should she so choose.

Artemis Crock has posed:
"No, it's cool," Artemis waves off the help. "It always gets cold in these places once they turn down the lights. That or it's the sitting still that does it. Regardless." She reaches for the package of Twizzlers, tearing it open and pulling off one for herself to take a bite.

"So where did it turn out you belonged?" she asks, waving with the Twizzler.

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley passes over the Twizzlers. She can goalie those. He settles into his seat more comfortably, since she turned down his offer. "Uh, well..." That's a loaded question! He can't exactly say the 'Titans'. "Just, here I guess. Blending in. Meeting beautiful women." The line is a total distraction, even if the flirt is meant. He even moves a foot to bump hers again indicatively.

Artemis Crock has posed:
Artemis doesn't say anything for a long moment, just quirking a brow at him. Finally, she takes another bite of the Twizzler. "Uh huh," she says around it, drawling as much as she can. "Not much of a sharer, are you?"

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley's eyes widen suddenly. "W-what?," he almost squeaks at the accusation. "What do you mean? I mean- I just don't really know how to answer a question like that. I don't have a family or anything."

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Oh, that part I believe," Artemis agrees, smie flickering. "The part where you found a place where you finally feel like you belong but you're actively avoiding talking about it, that's the interesting part. Since you're not sharing."

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley exhales a breezy sigh. "Some things are hard to talk about," he replies directly. His posture slouches, a bit deflated. "For what it's worth, I'm not in a gang anymore. Not doing that sort've thing. I wanted to get away from all that."

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Well hey, that's progress." Artemis doesn't look away from him, noting each change in posture, each little detail. As if he's a knot she's going to tease loose somehow. "So...it's a cult then?" She smirks, arching a brow.

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley smirks and shakes his head, remaining relatively closed off on the matter. He's a knot, for sure. One that doesn't de-tangle easily. And once it does, it's a whole spiel to work through. Stardust had more than her fair share to process. "Yeah. It's a cult. Everyone's either Jan or Steve. Don't let them know I'm seeing a non-Jan, or Dear Leader will be cross with me."

Artemis Crock has posed:
"I'd have to be able to find your leader first," Artemis points out, a smile flickering to break any lingering seriousness. "I can live with being the dangerous outside influence, though," she decides after a moment, reaching out for another handful of popcorn. "I take no responsibility for anything that comes of it though."

Volt has posed:
"Well, /I'm/ not responsible. I'm just a drone," plaintively protests Drake. At last, he filches a handful of popcorn to munch, careful not to drop any.

At last, the lights dim. The actual commercials kick on, signaling people to hurry up and find their seats. Movie's starting soon!

Artemis Crock has posed:
"Ah, of course. The 'cults are for the weak-minded' part comes into play," Artemis nods sagely, sinking down a little lower in her chair as the lights start to dim. "You're lucky, minion," she whispers, grin flashing in the dark. "Saved by the...turn off your cell phones commercial. So. Saved by the not the bell, I guess."