1403/Second Date

Second Date
Date of Scene:	11 July 2017
Location:	A gymnasium in Metropolis
Synopsis:	Priscilla takes Sarah out on a second date to her gym; they meet up with Sarah's teammates, friends and roommates, Roxy and Caitlin, who want to check out the lady sweeping their friend off her feet.
Cast of Characters:	Voodoo, Rainmaker, Freefall, Fairchild

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Voodoo has posed:
The gym is not some super high-end swanky joint by any means, but it is clean, neat, well appointed, well maintained ... and subtly, gently feminine. It's not a bastion of chrome and harsh lines, but instead a place of warm lighting, soft colors, with a welcoming, homey atmosphere.

Into this comes Priscilla, dressed in a pair of slick black athletic shorts and a purple t-shirt with a Voodoo stencil in white across the chest. She's carrying her motorcycle boots under her arm, while the other holds hands with her guest, the lovely Sarah. "This is the place." she offers, pausing to let Sarah take in the plants in the lobby, then stepping forward. "Hi, Christie. This is my guest, Sarah. We were just going to go down to the dance room. It's open, right?"

The aerobics instructor blonde in the pink and white leotard and tights nods, her ponytail bobbing behind her. "Sure, Priss. Room's reserved for you as usual. By the way, Danica wants you to give her a call. She sounded a little concerned."

"I'll call her later tonight. Thank you, Christie." Priss offers, and then leads Sarah past reception and through the main room full of weight machines, free weights, treatmills, exercise bikes and stairmasters to a short hallway and a stairway leading down. They emerge through a pair of double doors into a room almost - but not quite - the same size as the upper floor. But this one is dominated with brighter, harsher lighting, a springy, spongy padded floor, and floor to ceiling mirrored surfaces from one end of the room to the other along one wall. "Now you can see why I love it here." she offers, as she walks to a small door and opens it, pulling out the pieces of a collapsable brass pole, which she starts to assemble and then put in place and secure.

Rainmaker has posed:
    The Amerindian following Priss smiles in a friendly way at the blonde, pausing from looking around the gym. She does get a good feeling about the place. "Thanks..." she says to the woman, before she follows after. She's dressed for a workout herself, tight yoga style pants and a very loose white tank top with a blue outline of the number '13' on the very low cut front, under which she wears a plain but comfy black sports bra that go with the dark green pants, her hair pulled back in a sloppy but comfortable ponytail at the moment.

    "Is Danica a friend of yours?" she asks as they walk into the room, looking around. "Oh...this is nice...." she murmurs, smiling in delight at the space, kicking off her shoes by the door as she pads barefoot out to just spin a bit in place as she looks the room over.

Voodoo has posed:
"Danica's the owner. I told you about her: she's a former dancer herself. She's the one who told me about this place, and gave me a deal on the space." Priss offers, smiling at her date as they both go spinning and wheeling around the padded floor. "I was really, really lucky to have met her. It's a great deal, a lot better than I usually manage in most places.

Priss starts stretching out, showing herself to be limber enough to give Gymby a hernia. "So. How are your roomies doing? Well, I hope?" Priss can tell Sarah really cares about the girls - and even the boys - and so that means asking after their well-being is the right thing to do.

Rainmaker has posed:
    Sarah smiles at that. "Oh, right, I remember now..." she says, kneeling down and starting to copy Priss as she stretches. "Hope nothing's wrong then." she says thoughfully. She doesn't QUITE the other woman's flexibility, but she got a good range of motion as she leans down to nearly press her forehead to her knee. "Pretty well...actually ran across someone I hadn't seen in a while, who was having a bad time, so I kinda...browbeat her into going back to our room. Couldn't have her on the street." She frowns. "A place like this would eat up a girl that young." She looks over at Priss, smiling a bit as she puts a bent arm behind her back, twisting slowly. "Mm, I did tell Caitlin about this place, by the way, she said she'd try to drop by? I thought you might like to meet her, and she really could use a place like this. She gets really self-conscious in a public gym." she add, shaking her head. "Um...actually, I should warn you, she's very...shy. In some ways."

Voodoo has posed:
Priss tilts her head slightly as she presses her chest to the floor, legs splayed out in a near perfect split to either side. "Oh? Anything I should know, to help put her at ease? If she's your friend, I want to help take care of her, not scare her away." She picked up that comment about the other friend, but she's shying away from that right now, and the spike of emotion that went with it. Better to take her time and work up to prickly questions like that. Asking about Caitlin seems safer.

"Maybe I'll give Danica a call in a bit. If it was really important, my phone would already be wringing, but I don't want to leave her hanging." Priss explains. Her guess is that Danica heard about MysteriX and wants the skinny from Priscilla on what happened and to make sure Priss is OK. But she's also guessing Danica has already heard that she's OK, or she'd be calling, not just leaving messages with Christie. And Priss would really rather not ruin this lovely date with Sarah by bringing up Daemonite war parties tearing up her club abd murdering people. That would suck.

Rainmaker has posed:
    She can't help but keep sneaking peeks at Priss, just enjoying the pure animal grace she shows. There's a tiny bit of competitiveness too; if Priss can look like that and be that limber, she certainly can too! She just need to find out how Priss manages it...and she suspects it's mostly because she does a lot more core strength that involves holding onto a pole with her legs. That thought brings a faint flush to her cheeks briefly. She's definitely got a low level of interest, and is certainly enjoying watching, from the feel of her emotions. Also, she's...comfortable. And pleased and content to have a partner for a workout finally. She's missed it. It's not like she can spar easily with Caitlin...at least, while giving the redhead any real chance to strut her stuff.

    She sighs at the question, then pushes herself up from a full stretch of her legs to either side. "...well..." she begins. "...Caitlin is...special, in that sense. She had, ah, a growth spurt. A major one. But her view of herself hasn't quite caught up to how much she's blossomed." There's a hint of omission to what she's saying, like she's picking out how to say it as honestly as possible while not saying everything. "So she just doesn't get it. At all. She's totally oblivious." She lets out an annoyed sound. "I mean, she has literally no idea how GREAT she looks now. And when people do point it out to her, she gets all embarrassed and tries to cover up as much as she can."

    She pushes up up to her knees, twisting right then left. "So that's most of it. Sure, if you need to call her, feel free. Just in case it's important?" she agrees. She pauses, something on her mind now. "Where...do you dance, by the way? I hear there was an attack on a club...." She looks a bit sheepish. "I mean, I know it's a big city, and probably nowhere near where yo uwork, but it sounded pretty bad..."

Voodoo has posed:
In spite of herself, Priscilla cannot help rather enjoying that spark of competitiveness in Sarah; it's fun, and adorable. "Wow. Caitlin sounds ... interesting. I'm looking forward to meeting her." Priss cannot be sure she can help, but she can at least try to be a good friend to the other young woman; it sounds like she could use a few more. "I know how hard it can be to come to a big realization about who you are, about the truth of your potential."

Sarah's comment about the club makes Priss smirk a bit, head turned away for the moment. "I have been dancing at MysteriX. That's where the boys at the frat found me." she admits. She will not lie to Sarah. She may not tell the other woman everything, but she will not lie. "It's pretty wrecked, so I have a few days off work. That's probably why Danica wants to reach me, to make sure I'm OK."

Rainmaker has posed:
    Sarah stiffens, coming out of her stretching as she looks a bit alarmed. "You weren't there then? You're okay?" She scoots over. "I'm sorry...of course you are, you would have said, but...you must have known a lot of those people....I'm so sorry." There's a guilty amount of relief that Priss wasn't one of those people, but also just pure empathy for that. She can think what it must be like, even if they were just co-workers. It's certainly how she feels about some of the Gen13 kids that she's lost contact with, or she knows...didn't make it.

    She does pause to lean over to give Priss a firm hug for a moment, relief mingling with just...mmmmm. There's that guilty happy again.

    "You're going to stay there then? It sounded like it was really wrecked, it might be a while..."

Voodoo has posed:
Priscilla scoots over promptly and wraps her arms around Sarah, cheek pressed to Sarah's. "I'm OK. I promise, I'm OK. Yes, I knew several of thos who were hurt, and killed." And she's pretty broken up about it, not least of which because she feels guilty; those filthy bastards were there trying to kill //her//, after all.

"The place was pretty wrecked. But they have the money, and they don't want to lose the business. So, they'll push hard, and pay through the nose, to get it all fixed sooner rather than later. I'm figuring it'll be less than a week, unless they have to order any custom pieces." Priss explains. Then she brushes her lips over Sarah's cheek in a tender little kiss. "I spoke to the officers and folks who were there. Gave them my statement. They assured me it's very unlikely those bastards will ever come back. We'll be safe." Not least of which because Priss is going to make sure of it. Damnit.

"Are you OK?" she inquires, with concern in her voice. "You know I don't want to prod at you. But you know I care, and I'll listen, right?"

Rainmaker has posed:
    Sarah sighs, then rests her check on Priss's neck, before smiling faintly, peering at her with slightly amused eyes. "...you're worried about me now?" She shakes her head, some of that guilty transmuting to a little shyness, before she leans forward to gives her a soft kiss back...this time brushing her own soft lips against the other woman as she, lets out a soft sigh. She doesn't hold it long, but smiles at her, a little flushed. "It's fine." she assures her. "I was worried but then you called to invite me here, so....I guess I just wanted to be sure."

    She leans back a bit, resting a hand on Priss's leg companionably, biting her lower lip a bit. "It just...brings up old memories." she says after a moment. "That kind of attack."

    And there is old memories rising to the surface a little bit..but it's fine. Priss is fine. She wasn't hurt. She won't let those memories control her. But as close as she is, especially touching each other, the old fear in her memories is there. It's more intense than you might expect for a woman as young as Sarah is, really.

Voodoo has posed:
Except that Priss isn't much older, and she has memories just as intense. And this close, touching, Priss doesn't just get emotion; the telepath gets glimpses of thought and memory too. She lets her hand rest over Sarah's as she leans closer, maintaining contact. "I don't know what happened." To Sarah. "But I'm sorry you ever had to know what an attack like that could be like. It ... it was pretty horrible." Priss wraps her arms around the Amerindian beauty, and just holds on for a bit. She may be brave and strong, but damnit, that sucked to go through. Even knowing she was likely going to survive and even stop them, it still sucked. Not the least because Priss is an empath, and could feel, was swamped in, the pain and horror of her coworkers, and the sick glee of their murderers.

"Hey. We're all stretched out. Why don't we go ahead and spar a little. It would be a shame to waste this space, and it'll help us work through it, get it out of her system." And if part of Priss is looking forward to a shower afterwards ... well, that's just the way she is. "That sound good to you?"

Rainmaker has posed:
    This close, and touching...yes, it's not just emotions Priss can feel this close. But what she can see on Sarah's mind.

    Nightmares in black tactical armor, carrying rifles, with red eyes. A tall aristocratic looking woman, wearing something that looks more like it'd belong on one of Priss's coworkers, swinging backhanded at Sarah's face, drawing blood. A cell, where she's secured back against a wall. Fire and explosions, gunfire...a kid like her going down as a group flees with her, as she looks back down a smoke-filled hallway...she never told the others about that one.

    Sarah brings her chin up, banishing the memories. It's not the same. Priss is safe. They weren't hunting her. She sighs, then gives Priss a squeeze back, taking comfort from the contact. "Sure, let's try this place out...it's been forever since I've had someone to spar with who was about my height." she says with amusement, pulling away as she hops to her feet, then gives the other woman a hand up if she wants it. "Do you do gloves or handwraps? Or just bare?" She pauses, then raises a brow. "..and I'm meaning hands here."

Voodoo has posed:
Priscilla lets out an inherently impish giggle when Sarah offers that. "What? You don't think I'd really let that go, do you?" She rolls and hops up to her feet easily, then lowers her hands to her midriff, apparently ready to peel her top up and off ... but she stops, and winks at the Amerindian woman. "I usually just go with wraps. But I think there are gloves and pads in the closet. We should check." Faster than wraps, that way, and ostensibly safer. Right?

Priss clamps down carefully, not letting herself respond to the thoughts she saw flitting through Sarah's mind. She caught a lot, but she'll need time to sift through it all. For now, she wants to be present for the other woman. Time enough to talk about alien kill squads later. Right?

At the front door, there are no storefront windows, as this gym doesn't believe in putting its patrons on display to the public. Stepping inside, there is a warm, inviting lobby, without the chrome and cold glass of modern gyms; there's even plants here and there, and softer lighting. A lycra-clad blonde aerobics instructor named Christie is standing at the front desk, ready to greet those who enter. When given names of who others are here to meet, she can then direct certain visitors to a short hallway on the other side of the gym space - itself full of women on weight machines, free weight benches, stationary bikes, incline treatmills and stairclimber machines - which leads to a stairwell going down to a pair of double doors.

Those double doors open up into a large open room the same size as the gym above, this one with no furniture at all - except for a gleaming brass pole in the middle of the room - and with a floor of spongy soft rubbery material, innately padded. The far wall is wall to wall and floor to ceiling mirror. And there are two raven-tressed woman squaring off, engaged in some sparring.

Freefall has posed:
    Leather jacket with studs, leather dog collar with studs, black onesie that looks like the world's smallest school wrestling leotard, white socks with white and pink sneakers, and a plastic Walmart grocery bag with a shirt, pants, and motel toiletries in it: Roxie just doesn't look like she gives a fuh as she and Caitlin come into the studio together. The smallest, youngest girl's face is screwed up in complaint as she says, "I'm just saying I know a setup when I hear one. No one in this gym can keep up with you, and I can't keep up with anyone, so this ain't about that." Then, as if Sarah and Priss couldn't hear her saying that because she was right there as she said it, she nods gruffly at them. "Hey. You must be Priss. How're you?" Roxie's bag makes a flump on the ground where she drops it, her stolen towels and (also stolen) clothes pouring out of the top like it's emerging from a facehugger coccoon. "So we're doing a thing because you and Sarah, right?"

Fairchild has posed:
    Caitlin is already dressed when she arrives.
    Because, well, of course she is. She's not going to change in some public locker room or something. What, are you nuts? She got enough of that in those mandatory PE classes, thanks, and even if she *has* gained a foot of height and a few hundred pounds of mass, well, the negative associations are carved in there pretty deeply.
    She got a really nice sports bra a few days ago. Poly/Spandex, padding, X-back, nice and stretchy. And for a normal woman of her size and, uh, 'endowments,' it'd probably be amazing - but Caitlin's post-human abilities mean she's also sporting enormous density *everywhere*, and it turned out to be ... not as durable as she'd hoped.
    And, so, she's wearing: a green sports bra, with a white sports bra under it, with a white bra under *it*. And that just about manages to keep things under control. Well, mostly. Relatively. To, you know, a degree.
    Look, she can't afford whatever vibranium-adamantium-whatsit-underwire number that Power Girl can swing, okay? She doesn't even have a *job*.
    Her shoulders are broad, her arms are bared (and built); the band of the bra ends right under her (infamously large) breasts, exposing a core too powerful to leave a dramatic waist; she wears athletic leggings with a V-cut waistband, the same color as her (outermost) sports bra, and a pair of plain, white athletic shoes.
    It's a gym. This is what gym people wear, right? She mostly works out hitting robots and doing bodyweight exercises while reading physics books.
    "I don't," offers Caitlin, "I don't really think much of this stuff is going to be of much use to me," to Roxy. And, towards the uninitiated Priss, she amends, "Because, uh, I do a lot of power-lifting."

Rainmaker has posed:
    Sarah arches a brow, though she does get a faint flush at Priss's teasing threat. "Gloves would be awesome then...I'm rusty." she admits. "At least head pads, just in case I overextend?" She heads over towards the closet, starting to open it, then draws up short as the door to the smaller room opens and her roomies enter.....and Roxy.

    She resists the urge to facepalm, saying a bit defensively. "It's also a good place for Caitlin to work out, it's just us in here..." Hey, it WAS a factor! She's aware of how self-conscious her friend gets in an environment like this. "Besides, it's good to have someone my height who actually notices when I land a hit." she adds dryly, shooting a glance at Caitlin. "And I'm pretty sure we could probably get the woman who runs the place to let us move some weights in here temporarily? It's not like you can't move them back out when you're done, right?" Her hands rest on her hips as she considers the logistics. Well, a bench and barbell, and weights, she's pretty sure. And stand for same. "Um, anyway. Priss. These are my roommates. That's Roxy, and that's Caitlin." she says, making introductions.

Voodoo has posed:
Priss is tall; not as tall as Caitlin, but tall. And she is visibly muscled. She's also incredibly curvaceous, and she exudes sexy quite powerfully. It's not quite 'poleaxe between the eyes' level, but then again she's engaged in sparring, not dancing and swinging around on that pole. She's wearing a purple sleeveless crop-top, with a black and purple sports bra underneath, and a pair of sleek black athletic shorts. Her feet are bare, except for the bright fire engine red pads covering them and her shins, and her arms are bare but for similarly colored pads on hands and forearms.

Pausing in the process of handing over similar pads to Sarah, Priscilla turns to take in the new arrivals. She even clasps her hands in front of her and bows momentarily; it doesn't fit the mulatto sexpot's look, but she seems to mean it.

Then Priss approaches, hand outstretched. "Hi there. Welcome to Danica's Den. In case you hadn't guessed, yes, I'm Priss. Priscilla Kitaen, if you care. Pleased to meet you, Caitlin. Roxy." She has a very warm smile, and as profoundly sensual as she 'feels', she doesn't give Caitlin the once-over glance some might expect. She was warned, after a fashion. "Would you two like to join us? There are more pads in the closet."

Freefall has posed:
    Roxie shakes Priss's hand, abashed by neither Priss's behavior nor her own. "Hey," she greets again as she shakes. She's not strong, and in fact doesn't look like she's far from a heroin-chic kind of scrawniness, but she gives it her best. "I'm Roxie. She's Caitlin." She knows it's an unnecessary clarification to offer--everyone talks about Caitlin, so Sarah and Priss have definitely already talked about her in exacting and probably lustful detail--but she'll establish herself and her own identity anyway, because she deserves that much. "So what's the rules here, we punch each other for a while? Marquess of Queensbury?"

Fairchild has posed:
    Not many women are taller than Caitlin, and vanishingly few indeed are more (to use the euphemism of preference) more 'curvaceous,' but these are things she's had some time to grow accustomed to. She's used to looking down at people, physically if not philosophically.
    Caitlin raises a hand, a gesture of greeting that becomes a 'no thank you' to the proffered pads and sparring. "No, thank you, I appreciate the offer but I don't think it would be a very good idea for me to spar even with pads, I'd be far too concerned with hurting someone to concentrate on anything else."
    The statuesque redhead adjusts the straps biting against her right shoulder, and takes a space near the door; she leans up against the wall, powerful arms folded beneath her breasts (they don't really fit very comfortably *across* them, for that she has to hold her arms at a really weird angle and it looks pretty dumb and Roxie always snickers at it) while she watches.

Rainmaker has posed:
    Sarah makes a face at Roxy, then says. "Really, I could go ask if they mind you bringing a weight set in here Caitlin? It's pretty empty, I think as long as you were willing to put it back, they'd be fine with it." She takes the gloves offered, then roots around for a smaller set as she tosses them to Roxy. "Sure, boxing works, for a start. Remember some of the tricks from last time?" she asks the shorter girl. She pauses, then looks at Caitlin. "Though if you're worried about power..." she says steadily. "Then that means you should be practicing, right? So you get more control." Her tone isn't demanding, just matter-of-fact. She knows why Caitlin is worried about it, after all.

    She looks back to Priss. "Mm, boxing okay with you? You didn't tell me which styles you work with." she admits after a moment. "I'm more a bit of everything..."

Voodoo has posed:
Priscilla doesn't look bothered by Caitlin's refusal, or the implications of 'difference'. Not even in the slightest. "Well, I'm pretty sure we can manage safety, Caitlin. But the choice is yours; I'm certainly not going to try to //make// you practice." That said, the caramel-skinned beauty glances towards Sarah, considers, and shrugs. "I do a bit of everything, from my travels. But my preferred style isn't one you'd have heard of. I'll show you sometime, I promise. But it doesn't have to be today. For now, I'd just like a chance to get to know your rooomies." She glances at Roxy. "//Both// of them. And for them to get to know me." After all, Sarah has brought up the idea of Priss going in with them on renting a bigger, better place. "Do they know how we met?" she inquires, curiously, grinning with impish glee.

Freefall has posed:
    "Called it," Roxie announces over her shoulder at Priss's last statement. "Totally a nefarious plot to lure us here. Now she's doing this, like, avant-garde postmodern villain thing where instead of telling us her evil plan, she's asking us to talk to her about ourselves. I'm onto your tricks." She's grinning as she says it, though. Probably shouldn't take Roxie seriously, especially when she's digging out boxing gloves, an accoutrement she has no business wearing. "But no, she hasn't told us. Why don't you tell us and we'll see how close your stories are?"

Fairchild has posed:
    Powerful shoulders lift and then fall in a shrug, the efficacy of her multi-bra arrangement proved by the fact her chest, crushed and contained by two layers of polyester and spandex and the underwire beneath it, barely moves at all. "No, I'd just rather not. It isn't my intent to be difficult, but I just wouldn't feel comfortable sparring."

Fairchild has posed:
    At Priss' words - well, she concurs with her sister.
    "No, Sarah hasn't really told us much. But," she says, "It's Sarah, so... if I were to guess..."
    Caitlin glances towards the ceiling for a moment.
    "Protest? Bluestockings, that feminist bookstore on Allen?"

Rainmaker has posed:
    All three girls (save perhaps Priss, since she's getting verrrry good at knowing just how to poke her about such things) get to see Sarah get something that doesn't happen to the tall Amerindian often...a faint flush. "...it...well, I hadn't gotten around to that. I just mentioned you were a dancer and knew a great gym, and...." She fidgets. "...I hadn't gotten to the rest yet." she admits sheepishly. "But...um, yes, a protest, but not the bookstore, there was this....this party that was advertised for the 4th..."

Voodoo has posed:
Priss backs up and wraps an arm around Sarah's lower back in support, hugging the Amerindian girl against her side. "It was a frat party. Sarah's friends objected, because the girls were getting in free, but they had to be wearing sexy patriotic outfits, which for most turned out to be star-spangled bikinis." So, it's everything they're expecting. So far.

"I showed up and saw a confrontation with some of the frat guys, who were already three sheets to the wind drunk and 'counter-protesting'. I helped out, and then invited Sarah to come along inside to help keep an eye on me."

"See, I was there to work the party. The fraternity had hired me while visiting the club where I work. As a stripper." Priss explains. "So Sarah was my date, and my safety partner for the exit. Then we went for a ride on my motorcycle, and went out to dinner at Lo Fong's, a Cantonese Thai fusion restaurant I know." Priscilla, at least, has no shame whatsoever about her line of work, and she's being very supportive of Sarah. She even kisses the other woman on the cheek.

Freefall has posed:
    Roxie frowns throughout Priss's story, brow stormy. "Wait wait wait, let me get this straight.
    "You have to pay to get into a frat party?"

Fairchild has posed:
    Caitlin's brows raise and her lips part, a look of realization on her face. "Oh. OH. When Sarah said 'dancer,' I thought she meant ballet," she murmurs, more to herself than to anyone else.
    "Not that I have any moral objection, of course! If it's empowering and you're comfortable with it, then - I mean, I'm as sex-positive as anyone, *I* couldn't do it but I'd *never* lay any sort of judgement on anyone who *does* make that choice for themselves as long as it's a choice made without any sort of undue influence from another party."
    Her rambling non-comment having reached something that approaches a conclusion, she nods her head towards her sister. "That's... yeah, you have to pay to get into parties?" she asks. "I've never ... really gone to any."

Rainmaker has posed:
    Sarah leans into Priss a bit as the other woman slides her arm around her waist. Just a tad. There's still that totally insane fear in her chest somewhere. She knows the girls, they're her family, but there's still that...fear. That it might be enough to trigger rejection or humiliation. Old girlhood memories, mostly.

    She wrinkles her nose at Roxie. "I know, right? And they were only letting girls in if they wore something hugely skimply and "patriotic"..." she adds, using air quotes. "It was the most mysogynistic disrespectful display! So we were protesting and..." She lifts her chin a bit. "And then Priss came along and there was a little scuffle, like she said. And basically like that. Yes."

    She looks sympathetically to Caitlin, catching that little note to her voice about not going. . "Well...it was not a good party...but maybe we can find a better one somewhere." she adds, then adds. "And that's how I feel too! It's empowering." Well after some soul searching with a bit of yammering and and guilt and deciding if she was also treating Priss like a sexual object by watching, which she's pretty sure is not the case if you actually are interested in the person themself...

Voodoo has posed:
Priss hugs Sarah again and smiles at Caitlin's stammering. She doesn't help, though. "Yep. Most fraternity parties have cover charges. A lot of them have themes, though, and they waive or lower the fee if you follow the theme." And she would, obviously, be an authority on this, despite that she has not and never will be in college. Graduating high school was almost impossible for her.

"I'm glad neither of you mind." the stripper comments. "I was afraid you'd tell her she has to stop dating me because of my job." Sure, Priss knows she's giving voice to Sarah's fears, but she's doing it so that Sarah can hear their reassurance and know everything is safe. This is a thing girlfriends do, right? Well, the empathic ones, anyway.

Freefall has posed:
    Roxie flips her wrist indulgently. "Nah. I'm sixteen and never had a boyfriend, I don't get to act like I know what dating's like," she says, offering that weird, embarrassing fact with neither shame nor defiance. "'sides, you'll do Sarah right or you'll answer to her. She's a big girl." With that, Roxie sprawls out on the floor, legs spread in a wide V, just watching her roommates, uh... pump their lats or shred their trikes or bomb their guns or whatever you do at a gym.

Fairchild has posed:
    Caitlin gently shoves off the wall - very gently, a thing necessitated by her weight, her size, and of course her phenomenally post-human strength - and sits upon a bench. Sometimes guileless but not especially demure, she sits with the sculpted pillars of her legs parted and her cupped hands resting between them, leaning forward slightly at the waist. It has the unintended consequence of drawing attention to her breasts, of course, but to be fair, that's the unintended consequence of virtually everything Caitlin does these days.
    "Why would we care you were a stripper?" she asks, face scrunched a tad in confusion. "This isn't the 1950s. You're a grown woman with full bodily autonomy, and Sarah is very, very well-equipped to take care of herself if it does eventually manifest that she's misjudged you."

Rainmaker has posed:
    Sarah glances at Priss as she voices those fears. Well...it sounds kinda silly when it's just said, now, she thinks to herself, the last concern over that fading away like fog in the sun. Still feeling a little shy about it though. She hasn't had good luck with these sort of things. Either they don't notice, or disappear on her when she's interested.

    Speaking of which, Caitlin leans and Sarah briefly loses her train of though. Man she's going to be horribly embarrassed when she realizes Priss can tell when she's feeling. "I'm not THAT bad at this..." she says, frowning a little. Well, there was Burnout, which didn't work out well. And Caitlin, who's oblivious. And SAdie, who...left. Man, maybe she IS bad at this...

Voodoo has posed:
Priss hugs Sarah firmly. "No, you're not that bad at this. But I wanted you to hear it aloud." She kisses the other woman's cheek, and then turns to Caitlin, smiling. "You two are a breath of fresh air. I'm really glad I got to meet you both." But since no one else wants to join them, she turns to Sarah as she withdraws her hugging arm. "So. Sparring, warrior of words?"

Freefall has posed:
    Roxie leans back against the wall, forgotten but enduring it because she can, because she chooses to, because she can be that tough, because she knows she doesn't need what Caitlin has--the constant focus of attention--and she won't let herself be jealous of someone who has what Roxie doesn't need. She's stronger than that.
    She's stronger than that.

Fairchild has posed:
    Really, they came here to meet Sarah's friend, to make sure there was nothing very obviously wrong with her - no gang tattoos, no 'I Love I/O' shirt, no 'Support The Black Razors' tag on the back of their car, that sort of thing.
    And, being that there isn't
    Well, it seems best to leave them to what they're doing.
    Caitlin rises from her bench, hands against the small of her back for a moment as she leans - which, once again, does an unfortunately marvelous job of thrusting out her breasts - and then gives her sister a little nudge.
    "I think Rox and I should probably be heading home. It was nice to meet you, Priss! Be good to Sarah, or else."

Rainmaker has posed:
    Sarah smiles a bit. "...okay. Um...don't wait up for me." she says softly. She watches them go, then mmms, turning to face Priss. "See what I mean?" she says, wryly, starting to pull on the gloves she has after pulling on the head protection. "...I'm glad they were cool. I mean, I thought they would be but..." She fidgets a bit. "...I don't really do this much."

Voodoo has posed:
"You don't have to do it much, to do it right, pretty lady." Priscilla offers Sarah. Then she tugs her close and steals a kiss. "En garde." she comments as they part, raising her gloves as she starts bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Rainmaker has posed:
    Sarah raises her gloves, grinning. "Show me what you got..." she murmurs, smaking them together. And much practice is done!