1906/Catching up with the Wilson Girl

Catching up with the Wilson Girl
Date of Scene:	09 August 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Ravager, Nightwing

---

Ravager has posed:
Dropping in on the old gym, the mysterious Ravager eyes the place, which is about empty right at the moment, maybe abandoned for bigger and swankier workout joints. She wears her full mercenary costume, complete with wrist bracers, which she uses to whap the punching bag idly as she walks to the wall.

As the light flickers, the mysterious Ravager removes her mask and looks at herself in the mirror. The whole wall is a mirror. All of the walls are mirrors, actually, only slightly warping with age. The mercenary looks at herself thoughtfully, intospectively, then pulls her orange and black badass mask back in place, then turns around to eye the punching bag again. She kicks it!

Nightwing has posed:
    It had been chance that brought him by. Oh he had checked in before at points, though hadn't had any real way to contact the Ravager beyond letting some informants know he'd want to see her, but that might have been giving too much intel to gain it. So he had kept his eyes open, did the patrols, put in the time. But then as he had passed nearby, landing with a faint crunch of gravel on a nearby rooftop... he saw the lights on in that old gym.
    It didn't take him long to close the distance. A grapple line fired, letting him swing across the way and land on the old radio antenna. He caught the edge of it with one hand, swirling around it and using it to slow his descent until he hit the tar paper roof of the old gymnasium. For a moment there might be a moonlight limned silhouette of the vigilante just before one of those skylights.
    And there she is, in all her mercenary glory. His lip twitches, the window opens with barely a creak, though perhaps enough to announce his presence to her a moment before she'll see him drop from the rafters and land in a crouch in the middle of that training hall floor, one knee bracing against the fall and then him rising to his full height.
    Black, blue, kevlar, leather. She's seen him before, seen the domino mask, and then of course... she's seen his smile. "Rose."

Ravager has posed:
With a quick defensive stance, the mysterious Ravager gets ready to defend herself from the surprise from the rafters. "Nightwing," she utters darkly, like it's an announcement or challenge or reminder to her of the past, when he used to lecture her and tell her to kick low or kick high or stop kicking so much. She eyes him defensively and then smirksmiles, cause that's what she does, she blows everything off (or up). She puts her badass fists down and stops trying to be badass to the max. "I saw you there," she tells him, even if she didn't. "You were watching my kicks, right. Don't say anything," she says sarcastically.

Nightwing has posed:
    A fingertip had been lifted in that moment just before she told him not to say anything, but at her behest... he doesn't. Instead he just smiles and nods to her, "It's good to see you. Thought something may have happened."
    He'll step around her slowly, footsteps nearly silent upon the old mats beneath their feet, each step causing a faint exhalation and crinkle from that old fabric beneath them. He'll make a small show of looking her over, at her armor and weaponry, her indeed terribly bad ass manner that has him inclining his head slightly. "How are you holding up?"
    There's a pause as he looked at the line of that defensive stance, perhaps internally critiquing, gauging. She had always been formidable, though perhaps rough around the edges. Refinement was only one part of their training, however. The more difficult issues were much harder to address.

Ravager has posed:
Watching him as he steps onto the mats, the Ravager puts a hand on her hip, "Yeah, no kidding. Different. My kickass outfit. It's different. I got new boots and junk," she explains, motioning to her mercenary costume, "I can keep more guns on the leggings. I mean, not just guns," she says, with some correction to soften her explanation about her super awesome costume, that Nightwing will probably frown upon, "You're okay and stuff?" she asks.

Nightwing has posed:
    "Mostly," She hadn't been around a few weeks ago when things with the Hellborn took a turn, when he had saved the new Robin from getting crunched and had to spend a few days recovering from the escapade. But now... he's mostly all together. "You missed out on some fun, but figure you were busy with your own party."
    He stops pacing around he and rests his hands on his hips, "You been keeping up with your training?" Eyebrows behind that domino mask lift upwards as he asks that question, then there's a twist to his lip as the smile comes forth, "I mean, from the look of that kick I'd say no, but hey I've been wrong before."
    He steps towards her and lightly turns his hips, half speed at most and casually uncurls a low kick to just an inch from her shin, lithe athletic form executing the movement cleanly and nigh unto perfectly as the leg chambers, uncurls, rechambers and then lifts higher to stop the edge of his boot just a few inches shy of her face.

Ravager has posed:
Thinking over what Nightwing says, Ravager replies, "Well I was probably overseas," she begins and then stops suddenly as he asks about her training and tries to kick her! What a a jerk! She grits her teeth and raises her forearm to block his jerk kick.

She intentionally sweeps his slowass kick away, then eyes him, "Oh yeah, right. You wish you were still teaching me the science of kicking," she comments amusedly. She throws her own kick at the jerk with a knowing smile, a straightkick with intent and perfect bodily placement thanks to her flexibility, and practice raising her leg and kicking like a badass.

Nightwing has posed:
    Her kick comes at that moment just as he's lowering his leg and she'll feel the jolt of impact as he catches it, accepts some of the impact with crossed forearms, and then lightly pushes back against her. Not exactly training, but perhaps just seeing what she still has. So at that quick exchange he won't follow up, just turning back to the side and losing his defensive stance as he smiles wryly at her, "Well it's part science and part artform."
    He then steps to the side, folding his arms over his chest as he looks to her, "So overseas?" He chews on the corner of his lip as he cocks an eyebrow suspiciously, "Do I wanna know? Or was it actually for something good like broadening your horizons?" Always so judgmental, as if he knows that whole right and wrong thing about the world. The jerk.

Ravager has posed:
The masked Ravager raises her chin, as if considering his question intrustive, but he's a jerk so it's kinda expected, "I'm not telling you," she explains matter-of-factily, like she always does. This kind of explains it either way.

Rose lowers her kicking leg and stands there, "I'm not an evil supervillain and I'm not a bad girl. Well maybe a badass girl, but not evil. Besides, I'm not working at a ******* coffee shop," she says with her usual careful vocabulary, "Besides I part time at a club being kickass. Totally normal. Close enough, I think."

Nightwing has posed:
    Really, he hadn't expected more. But he meets her eyes with his own, though his are hidden in part behind that domino mask. His smile is a little gentle, a little rueful, as if understanding why that wouldn't appeal to a woman like her. He gives a nod, "I know, Rose." He looks her over again as if pondering what to do with a problem like The Ravager and coming up with not much more. So he tries for the old tack that she's heard from him.
    "You know if you apply yourself, with your talents, you could do some good. Beyond throwing the occasional bit of lead and punches."
    He steps back and turns away from her, giving the old place another look for now. He walks across the way with a slow leisurely gait towards the soda machine that clearly hasn't been on for a good chunk of time. He lightly pushes on the bottled water option, just to see if it'd come to life, light up and offer its drinks. But no.
    "But that would take, you know, an effort."

Ravager has posed:
Ravager crosses her arms as he starts to get on her nerves, "Stop being a jerk," she comments bluntly, "Can't you change your ****** approach, just once? I mean, one time?" she whines and complains, then stews on what she just said.

She glances at him as he fools around with the vending machine, and doesn't say anything, "If you want water, you can't get it in here," she reminds him, "I guess this place is old and worn out," she muses, as if feeling nostalgic. She finally looks back in the mirror at herself, and then at dusty facility.

Nightwing has posed:
    A small laugh comes from him, but then he looks back at her and gives her a nod. "You're right. I'm sorry." He holds up his hands as if surrendering the point to her, which he was. "It's good to see you, Rose." He says that as he turns back towards her. For a time he'll look at her looking at herself in the mirror, looking at the gym. No idea exactly what is going through her mind, but he can take a guess.
    He crosses back to stand beside her and to turn, to look at the mirror again. He looks at her reflection, at his, then to her sidelong. "You going to be in town for a time?" He asks her.

Ravager has posed:
Gazing at the mirror, Ravager looks at the wobbly mirror, distorted because nobody is there to care for it. She then looks at the one next to it and it's in just about the same shape, "Yeah," she tells him.

With her arms crossed, the mysterious Ravager then looks at Nightwing in the mirror as she stands there, though she's got her defenses back up as she says, "Why? You got a book of kicks you want me to read?" she asks amusedly.

Nightwing has posed:
    "Nah," His lip curls as he eyes her reflection in the mirror sidelong, "I just thought it'd be nice to see you around is all." Nightwing then turns away from the mirror to shift his stance to the side to face her. She'll see him look her over, probably not like most guys might steal a glance at her whens he's kicking ass down at her workplace. But more likely trying to gain whatever small insight he might glean in that glance.
    His head lifts, gaze returning to her eyes as he smiles a bit, "If you want, I have this thing called a cellphone. You might have heard of it." He says as he at least makes the offer, even if it's in a sort of smart ass way.

Ravager has posed:
Ravager looks down at herself as Nightwing eyes her, wondering if she's got something on her costume, "What?" she wonders. She then smirksmiles again and says, "Are you asking for my phone number?" she wonders, "Why are you asking for my phone number? Nevermind. Fine," she says fake-irritably. She gives him her phone number verbally, "If you're thinkin you're gonna banter me to death again, it won't work," she says.

Nightwing has posed:
    "Oh nah, I figured it wouldn't." He says as he takes the aforementioned cellphone in hand and records the digits, adding them under a heading that she'll see he deliberately mislabels, 'The Revengencer.' if only to bug her a little. But he smiles sidelong at her and then turns to face her head on. "I think you're immune to my banter attacks."
    He then retorts, "I figure if I ever need someone beaten to an inch of their life by wry wit I'd give you a call."
    But then he pushes past the small attempt at a joke and he affects a slightly more serious look to him as he meets her gaze. "Also there are some things coming up that I could use your help with. That is if you want to."

Ravager has posed:
Ravager inclines her neck as Nightwing is typing and comments, "What the **** are you typing?" she says idly, then lets it drop.

She then nods affirimatively, agreeing with his statement about kickass help. But then she listens to his real request and she looks surprised, "What? You need help from me?" she wonders, "Well okay, I guess. I mean, I'm in town," she adds.

Nightwing has posed:
    "Only if you're willing." Nightwing furrows his brow slightly and for a moment the touch of levity is gone. If she had a frame of reference she might see an element of the Bat in his sternness as he tells her, "And if we are going to, it'll have to be by my rules." His head turns slightly, as if trying to get another angle to consider her from, to gauge her sincerity. "No killing. And good control."
    That having been said he'll extend a hand towards her, offering it to her as he then asks, "Deal?"

Ravager has posed:
Ravager purses her lips as he dictates the rules to her, but then says, "I got it," almost surprising herself at not arguing. She then shakes his hand like a secret business deal with all the rules on the table and the contract written, "Yes sir," she says, adding a comment sarcastically because she can't help it. She doesn't seem as comfortable as she used to be with Nightwing, but it's getting there because she shakes his hand and smiles in a winning fashion, maybe thinking she's won something. Or maybe it's nice to be asked for something. "As long as it's not a job to read a kicking book and write a report," she adds.

Nightwing has posed:
    Maybe it'll help her when instead of letting go of her hand he'll draw her in for just a small embrace. Just a step in to pull her closer a little and thump her on the back a bit. Then he steps back and meets her eyes, smirking at first at her words, but then smiling and giving her a single sharp nod. "Alright, no book reports, no kick critiquing." He lets her hand go and then smiles warmly.
    "I'll give you a call so I suppose you can have my number too. I guess. If I have to." And then it's back to the light give and take of banter as he steps back and starts to turn away. "You take care of yourself, Rose. I'll be in touch. Alright?" He takes a few more steps, then turns around to walk backwards as he lifts a hand towards her. The bantering tone leaves him for a moment as he tells her with sincerity, "It was good to see you." And with that he turns back, reaching for the grapple line on his hip.

Ravager has posed:
Ravager doesn't run her hands all over him like some teenage bimbo, that's for sure. She doesn't do much. She then waits for him to tell her his number, "Text me your number," she reminds him, "Try texting it. New thing," she says to him, wiggling her thumbs around as she demonstrates the new technology for him, since he's older than her.

She then hmms and just nods to what he says, adding, "Okay, see ya," she says casually, maybe wondering why he's being so nice. Maybe she's being too suspicious. Hmm.

Nightwing has posed:
    The young vigilante turns back and brings the grapple line up, it fires with a whir and connects to that open skylight window. The line snaps taut and he is drawn upwards with a faint whir. A moment later and he's gone.