14870/Songbird's Solo

Songbird's Solo
Date of Scene:	30 March 2023
Location:	The Tunnel - Midtown Manhattan
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Black Canary, Superman

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Black Canary has posed:
The device was a Superman lure. It was mailed in a package to Star Labs, disguised as a piece of test equipment, but up in the ultrasonics a computer-altered voice just played a message in an endless loop.

    ATTENTION SUPERMAN. The Tunnel. Manhattan. March 30. 10PM. Table 17. Don't be late.

The message then provides the address of the club before repeating. All inaudible to human ears. (Some of the test dogs, on the other hand...)

It's March 30. 10PM. The scene is The Tunnel. Will Superman be late?

Superman has posed:
Superman is actuqally there on time. He heard the message inside. And he's there at Table 17. All of it is something that makes him curious. Everything about this is for a reason. He doesn't know what.

Sitting down, he looks, curious what will be there. Plus, he will stand out given the fact he shows up -in- uniform. Sky blue eyes watching his surroundings for a moment.

Black Canary has posed:
There's no doubt that Superman arriving in costume is going to attract a lot of attention. Indeed it causes the band to stumble in their set before they carry on with their 1920s-inspired set. Shortly afterward a figure detaches from the bar and walks up to Superman, joining him at table 17 without invitation.

The figure is nondescript and ... more than a little nervous.

"Do you like the show?" the woman asks, her voice seemingly adjusted half an octave high and trembling a little. "It was made specially for you."

As she talks the band starts off in an easy-going number. Gentle big band number. With a pair of crooners (one male, one female) singing. (OOC: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=knAgof-e3rM). It might take a while to register that a) he recognizes the female voice, and b) there's only a woman on the stage.

A woman dressed in a body suit and fishnets.

Superman has posed:
A brow raises slowly, "Oh?" Superman doesn't blush, but if he was dressed as Clark. . .oh he would be. The sky blue eyes look to the nondsecript person. "They did not need to do that," he says just trying to wave a dismissive hand.

Then he is looking toward the woman singing ont he stage. He keeps the powers at bay. just listening to it for a moment, curiously. "Why did they make this for me?" he asks unsure if the person is sitll there.

Black Canary has posed:
The woman is long-gone. Instead the fishnet-clad, bottle-blonde singing both parts of a male/female duet of old-timey big band jazz has her sky-blues on Clark, twinkling with gently malicious humour as she goes through the piece. Taking notes from her rougher performances that Superman has scene (as Clark), she hops off the stage and circulates through the audience as she sings, leaving the '40s style tin can mic behind (the club is going all out on recreation!) yet still filling the place with her voice. Es. Voices.

Finally, as the close of the song approaches, her trajectory through the audience leads her near Superman's booth where spotlights pin both she and he in the public eye. Then the song ends and the spots go out, leaving Canary to slither into the booth across from Superman with a grin on her face.

"Hey, Supes. How's tricks?" she asks as the applause almost drowns her out. "Did you like the performance?"

Superman has posed:
Superman is listening ot everything. Knowing the perforamnce is him and he's quite rivetted. Sky blue eyes looking toward the woman that sits across from him.

"I liked the performance. I'm not sure what to expect," he says softly, admitting this honestly. "What else should I expect tonight?" he asks looking toward her curiously.

Those eyes just looking to the blonde as he feels pleasantly surprised, and trapped, simultaneously. So, he is the willing captive and audience since iti s just for him.

Black Canary has posed:
"Well, it's easy Supes," Dinah says with a laugh. "You said something about a crush. There's four girls in the band. A bit of deduction pointed me at ..." She pauses and eyes Superman. "... Well it doesn't matter. My ego won't let you have a crush on anybody in the band but me, so I thought I'd call you out for a date the fun way. You and me in costume, in a club. Me serenading you. That's going to look good in the papers tomorrow, won't it?"

She licks her lips and turns her head to look for a server, who've all absconded to leave the perceived lovebirds alone. Catching the eye of one she waves the man over. "Bourbon on the rocks." Beat. "And I mean ice. Plus whatever he's having."

The blue eyes turn to Superman again, one eyebrow cocked.

Superman has posed:
Superman sits there. Then he doesn't blush for a moment. "And you don't know how I look outside of the uniform." Now he doesn't mean it how it could be taken. It does reinforce the altruism a little bit. Sky blue eyes looking at her for a moment. "And why do you hope to gain the paper's attention?" he asks curiously. That catches him offguard a little bit.

"Same as her," Superman doesn't feel the effects of Alcohol, but Dinah doesn't need to know that. "Do you always sernade the people interested in you?" he asks, knowing she is an adrenaline junkie. "And how is the rest of the band taking the news?" he asks curiously.

Black Canary has posed:
After negotiating the drink, Canary (for she's in that persona, not that there's a huge difference between public and private here), leans back against the booth's padding, putting one booted foot up on the bench, regarding Superman.

"How blunt do you want me to be?" she asks sweetly. "You've got a reputation for being the ultimate boy scout. I have a different reputation. Same planet, different worlds, as the saying goes." She tilts her head curiously, regarding the Kryptonian. "The band's teasing me, of course. They know me. They know how I live. They're taking bets on things I won't say out loud because you look better with that slight tan than red."

Superman has posed:
A chuckle rumbles from Superman. "Well, I do prefer bluntness," and then his face just becomes neutral. Superman's is aware of his own reputation. Some of it is by design. Then he looks at her for a moment. "I have wondered about you. Like you have a type and I know I may not fit it on paper," he admits and he looks to her.

"And what is the badn betting on?" he asks curious. He pictures them with a betting pool for various happenings. Superman can see each of them putting firm bets if W, X,Y or Z happens. With everything becoming more scandelous in time.

Black Canary has posed:
"OK, I'll be blunt. I'm an adrenaline junkie, and I'm in a line of work that isn't exactly noted for being long-lived. I'm the best at what I do, or at least in the top five, but there's still first people who can just squash me like a bug..." She gestures to Superman. "...and there's just plain old bad luck, outnumbering, etc. I could walk out the doors here tonight and wind up dead. I have a lot of motivated enemies and someday this is all going to catch up with me."

Canary leans forward. "So when I see something I like, it's utterly senseless for me to hold back and play the waiting game. I'm one bullet to the brainpan away from never having the chance to sample. So I tend to sample."

She shrugs lightly. "And yeah, I do have a type. My bad taste in men is legendary. I'm not stupid. I'm just ... built that way. I know what's going on, but the senses crave what the senses crave." Psychologists could have a field day with that fatalism. "But having a type doesn't mean monomania. Think of it like ice cream. Everybody has a favourite kind of ice cream. Mine's pistachio gelato, hand-mixed. Doesn't mean I'm going to turn down a vanilla cone, now, does it?"

She grins at Superman, then, chuckling.

You've got a lot going for you, and somehow, underneath that boy scout, I think there lurks an everyman. And every man has that little bit of wildness, that 'Wolf of the Steppes' ... yes, I've read a book ..." Canary chuckles again. "...I know how shocking that sounds, yes. But every man has that little wolf. And I like my wolves."

Beat.

"The papers thing was actually a bit of a joke. Most papers are too scared of me to make me a part of their tawdry nonsense. I have a temper and a lot of powerful friends. As to the band, some of the bets are very graphic. They involve speculation as to whether or not certain bodily fluids will be ejected at speeds that would be fatal. They're pretty sick, sometimes, those girls."

Superman has posed:
Superman pauses for a little bit to collect himself. She has a lot to say, but she does touch on a nerve. Leaning back a little bit, "Well, I don't think you should wind up dead. Regardless of how this conversation goes. I think the world is better with you than without. Even if you have the most nihilistic view of self-worth. I think you're a star that shines brighter than you want to admit. And I think that might scare you. What happens when someone sees you sign. So, you try to hedge your bet and burn out too soon. Like James Dean, but self inflicted," Superman speaks honestly on that matter.

"And that's not including those that would mourn you. Not just the band, I would. I know others on the league and not just your esxes," and then he looks to her wondering how this is going to hit her. This isn't him saying he would save her. No. Superman is simply saying, he thinks she's scared of herself and her potential deep down. Better to burn quick and bright then last a long while. Superman thinks she could do a lot lasting for a while.

"I do have a wolf that lurks underneath. I'm not quite vanilla. It's almost insulting to her people call me old fashioned like that, but even if I am. What's wrong with that?" he looks to her for a moment.

"If anyone throws themself at me, I want them to do it because they like me. Not for the thrill, or a trophy. It's up to the people to figure out the speed," and that's just his general view.

Black Canary has posed:
The 'nihilistic' thing hits. He can see the slight flinch, imperceptible to most but not to someone with the sensory palate that Kal-El brings to the table. And that flinch is fear, not anger. As if she's afraid that he's right.

"I'm not looking to die," she says, though there's a micro-quaver in her voice that suggests she's not 100 percent certain of herself here. "I just know that I'm in a world where I can. I mean I punch way over my weight. I can go toe to toe with freakin' Diana for a few minutes at least. You know, before she skewers me fifteen times fifteen different ways and then turns me into a blood smear. I'm larger than life, Kal. But ..." She shakes her head. "... that luck can't last forever. I'm not looking to die. I'm just ... accepting of the possibility."

Then she drops the bombshell.

"Dying fucking hurts," she says, voice vulnerable, eyes focused into nowhere. "I know first hand. And given a second chance, I'm going to live what I've got to the fullest before that awful blackness comes to take me a second time."

Waitwhat?

Then her voice loses its vulnerability and her devil-may-care vibe takes back over.

"Kal, I've never been with someone, man or woman..." Wait, woman?! "...to just have a trophy; just for the thrill. Thomas? Love. Ollie? Love. Even Bruce Wayne, for that short time. Love. I fall in love. THEN I go after someone."

She pauses there, letting Superman do some arithmetic. Two plus two equals...

"I take trophies from bad guys. Not from friends."

A sharp barking cough follows. "Thrills? I take from everything. Part of why I go up on stage. I'm terrified until the gig starts and then it just all flows out of me as adrenaline spikes, then dopamine. You have NO idea."

Superman has posed:
Superman doesn't expect that vulnerability. He expected it to hit, but not as close to home as it did. "I know dying can scare anyone. Even if it's not them dying," because the death of a loved one can make someone fear their own mortality.

"I know you can hold your own. I know you could hold your own more than most. I just don't think you can resign your fate to, 'I may not live fifteen seconds from now.'" Then he looks at her and his expression softens.

"Then you tell me where to go after the drinks," he asks those sky blue eyes looking up to her. His gaze on her for a moment.

Black Canary has posed:
"Part of the thrill of dating," Canary says with a bit of an ironic twist around the euphemism, "is finding out about them. And nothing tells me more about them than how they decide to move once they know the sitch." She tilts her heard, looking Superman up and down. "Where would you go for a date? You saw what I do. I flirt. Extreme flirtation. I sing. I drop surprises. I become the centre of their attention."

Her mouth seems to go dry and she wets it with her drink, gulping down a bit of liquid courage.

"Then I tell them the way things are and see how they move."

Superman has posed:
"I am like you. I try to figure out how things are after I admit everything," Superman admits and then he looks at her. Sky blue eys watching intently for a moment.

"I love your idea of one. I try to impress someone being myself. I want them to like the person then I feel comfortable getting pastries from France," he admits knowing he can spoil someone. But he wants the person to like him, or more, first before that happens.

Black Canary has posed:
At this Canary laughs. "Kal, you're not going to impress me fetching pastries from France. We've worked together too long for me to be surprised by that. I mean ... a diamond the size of my head from the heart of Jupiter? Yeah. But pastries from France?"

The giggling is natural and musical as Canary pictures in her head the kind of person who'd find that impressive. "Sorry, I just know you too well for that trick to work."

The giggling fades away, as does the smile as she looks into his eyes.

"It was me, right?" she asks. And there's that vulnerability again. That brief exposure of someone who's not an icon. A sex symbol. A stalwart warrior for justice. Just a woman, and by the looks of it one who's been hurt before, sounding out the scene she's in. "The one you have the crush on?"

Of course Kal's hearing catches the slight increase in breathing rate. The slight ragged edge to it. The faint hint of hope in the voice. And the faint hint of resignation. She's been hurt, apparently, in love as she has in battle, and yet ... throws herself into it with abandon. Again and again. In both.

Superman has posed:
"Well, that's one thing I will do. One thing I have done. One thing I will continue to do," Superman knows he will do that. Is it an abuse of powers? Maybe. However, he would knows that he would do that.

"It was you. Yes. Despite what some bad members may think," he says softly. A vulnerability in his own voice. Despite the confidence he can swing, his voice shows a vulnerability when it softens.

"But I'm not a bad boy. I'm very much, unintentionally, a slice of apple pie. I grew up in the middle of the country. I can be boring," he warns and then looks at the singer. A smile on his face for a moment.

"I may never be the likes of someone that's called 'Bad Boy.'" Kal just tries to emphasize this again.

Black Canary has posed:
"Well, let's see if we can't fix that then," Dinah laughs, relief flooding through her like blood flooding to her face as she flushes ... not in embarrassment, but seemingly in relief, something confirmed by the sudden flood of speech as words practically trip over each other. "I'm great at bringing out the bad boy in people. Probably because I'm a bad girl."

Keep talking, Dinah. Maybe someday you'll even believe it yourself.

She takes another slug of her bourbon, but this time more carefree and easy in her approach. "Or, naturally, you can convince me of the excitement that a good boy can bring to the table. I'm easy." That's what the rep is, yes. "I mean ... I try to do good and get in all kinds of thrilling situations and I'm not even Superman! I can only imagine the thrills in your life!"

This is called babbling.

"But boring? You're never boring, Kal. A bit stiff, sure. But that's public, right? You must have a private life, and surely in your private life you lounge back on a couch in your undies, feet up on the coffee table and watch football, right?"

Black Canary has posed:
"Well, let's see if we can't fix that then," Dinah laughs, relief flooding through her like blood flooding to her face as she flushes ... not in embarrassment, but seemingly in relief, something confirmed by the sudden flood of speech as words practically trip over each other. "I'm great at bringing out the bad boy in people. Probably because I'm a bad girl."

Keep talking, Dinah. Maybe someday you'll even believe it yourself.

She takes another slug of her bourbon, but this time more carefree and easy in her approach. "Or, naturally, you can convince me of the excitement that a good boy can bring to the table. I'm easy." That's what the rep is, yes. "I mean ... I try to do good and get in all kinds of thrilling situations and I'm not even Superman! I can only imagine the thrills in your life!"

This is called babbling.

"But boring? You're never boring, Kal. A bit stiff, sure. But that's public, right? You must have a private life, and surely in your private life you lounge back on a couch in your undies, feet up on the coffee table and watch football, right?"

Superman has posed:
"You're not a bad girl Dinah. Just a good one with various tastes," Kal corrects this worldview. Dinah has a conscious. Sometimes she just needs give herself credit.

"Depends on the day. Sometimes I can't stop people crying out for help," Kal admits. He doesn't mind. Sometimes it feels like being a fly with ADHD.

"Stiff?" Kal says with a raised eyebrow. Then he gives a soft smile. "I do try to have -some- form of a life," Kal knows it's a mixture between his two personas. Superman leans hard into one side of himself, Clark the other. And like two perspectives to a story, the truth is somewhere in the middle. The true Kal El is probably somewhere in the middle.

Black Canary has posed:
"Well, you will be at some point anyway," Dinah says, grinning triumphantly as she slips in a dagger of innuendo between Kal's ribs. "But it's too soon to speak of that. How 'bout you and I blow this popsicle stand and find somewhere to have a real date. Don't ask me where 'cause I'd drag you out to a monster truck rally or a dirt bike race ... that I'd probably race in. I'm more interested in what you think is a good romantic date with a booted hellion like me."

The teasing is going off the scale here.

"We don't have to go like this, though. I dress up nice when I want to. Ballroom gown to swimsuit to scuba diving outfit. I'm fine and down for anything."

Superman has posed:
"I still expect to watch that,"Kal says and then he looks at her. He'll take his drink for a moment. "Well, where can I take you where I can keep looking like this?" Kal asks as he gestures to himself. That's probably an issue or something that's bound to stand out. At least, a little bit.

"And you're not a booted Hellion. I'm currently working with Demonologist. You're a booted hellraiser," he corrects. There -is- a difference.

"Promises promises," Kal teases her, for once, about the outfits. An impish smile appears on his face very briefly. Then he thinks on it. "That's the trouble with you. You say the grand gesture don't impress you so I can't exactly take you to Atlantis."

Black Canary has posed:
"Well, you can, but it's not the kind of thing that's going to turn my head like a norm might be turned. There's still that option of a diamond the size of my head from Jupiter though!"

She tilts her head and regards Kal. "It's the little things, though, that seal the deal. I mean turning the head is all good and fine, but the little things that make you feel wanted. Loved. That's what works in the long haul." Her face goes a little bit flat with regret. "Wish I would remember that more often."

Leaning back in the booth, arms spread out along the edges, she regards Kal, then, for a while.

"What kind of outfit you want to see me in?" she finally asks. "If it's something I've got I can change now; if it isn't, I can get it and change. Wherever you want to take me, I'll dress the part. High society ball or underground cage fight."

Superman has posed:
Superman decides on something and he offers Canary a hand. Then he waits for her to take it. "You will need to guide me to a place you can decide if you wan to change. It's casual, dress down, your kind of place. Up to you if you want to dress to the nines to this place," he gives her a warning on this one. The choice is hers and he doesn't want to reveal. It's a surprise. However, it's a bigger attempt to show he's trying.

Black Canary has posed:
Dinah takes the hand and laughs. "I like casual. Let me get to the dressing room and I'll slip into some jeans and a tee. Do you have an everyman disguise or are you going as Superman? 'Cause I mean if that, I'd ... probably want something a bit nicer than jeans and a tee. Not much, just ... a proper blouse that doesn't have ... what this tee has on it."

Guiding Kal to the dressing room she holds up the tee which has a pair of eyes at chest height made from glitter and the words underneath it "My Eyes Are Farther Up, Guys!" scrawled in faux handwriting.

"So is this proper or should we drop by the hotel and get something less ... conspicuous?"

Superman has posed:
"That's proper for what I was thinking," Kal amdits. He looks at the shirt and nod. "I'm not used to where I was going to take us. So, I'd be dressing down," he's not even sure what exactly he should dress as. Then he podners a few things.

Then he raises a brow at the mention of a hotel. "Planning something?" he lightly teases. Then thinks on it som emore. Remembering what exactly this place would take. There's a moment where she would see the gears turning in his head. Sky blue eyes just ever so slightly moving back and forth. She can tell he's trying to figure out how to properly dress for this outing.

Black Canary has posed:
"Think blue collar," Canary says, as she practically reads Clark's transparent mind. "And yes, I was planning something; sleep. I don't sleep out in the street!"

She winks and adds, "Nor necessarily alone."

Then her thoughts go to clothing. "Plaid button-down collar shirt. Rugged khakis. That blends in almost anywhere except the worst dives. And you'd look good in that."

Superman has posed:
"Wait. Am I taking you somewhere or are you taking me somewhere?" Kal clarifies for reasons. Then he looks at her for a moment. "You need a place to call home. Even if it's not much," he says knowing she probably sleeps in a few hotel rooms.

Then there's that wink and he smiles softly. He tries to think of something, but cannot think much. Those sky blue eys look at her for a moment. "I probably have that attire, but it doesn't fit where I was thinking."

Black Canary has posed:
"Now you are intriguing me!" Canary says, laughing. "If plaid and khakhi doesn't suit, I don't know what to suggest. Jeans and a tee like me?"

During this conversation she's stripping her costume off, carefully (seemingly habitually) checking it for tears and loose seams and such as she does so, before, clad only in her (boringly practical) underthings, she starts to slip into the aforementioned jeans and tee combo. The jeans are seemingly a size too small. The tee two sizes. She knows what works and employs it ruthlessly as a weapon.

"Do you have jeans and a tee available? 'Cause I'm pretty sure mine won't fit you, given that I'm, like, a head and a half shorter than you and built to a completely different model convention.

Next come the boots. Biker boots, the kind she always seems to wear when she's not dressing up. The kind of boots made for stomping people: practical and tough.

"If you go with that, we need to get you a Superman tee. Just for the irony factor."

She finishes stuffing her costume into a pair of saddlebags and turns to Clark, posing for him and turning in place.

"Will this do?"

Superman has posed:
"For you. Anything you would go out in," Kal will turn to avert hsi gaze for a moment. "The shirt and jeans would work," and then he is turning for a moment when hear hears her walk out.

"I can come up with something," he says then will be quick to add, "No shirt. No. That's one thing I actually don't wear, ever," he says honestly there. It just feels a little too on the nose for him.

"Yes, that will do," he gestures up and down to her and then he pauses for a moment. "I will need a moment," and then there's a brief whoosh and he's gone. Then he is back in a pair of gray carpentar pnts and a simple black shirt. Hiding underneath the pants legs is a pair of tan work boots.

"I do repair work sometimes," he says knowing the attire is that of a mechanic or outdoor painter. That's exactly why he has it. "Will this done?" he says and knows it's basic. He thinks it should work.