2384/Log 2384

Log 2384
Date of Scene:	09 September 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Raven, Miss America

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Raven has posed:
In a swirling maelstrom of animate darkness, several people are deposited within the tower. The Titans are taken to their rooms- Cassie to hers, and Kate to Cassie's... The two can discuss and gossip and vent to one another about the situation that just erupted, nice and safely.

America is not taken to anyone's room. Instead, she's deposited, nice and safely, in the lobby of the tower. Not far from her, still in that three piece suit, Raven floats to the ground. The monotonous, harsh voice that echoes into the room comes from her. "That was getting out of hand." she notes, as she lands- this little audible click from her heels ringing out.

"I thought it best not to leave anyone alone."

Miss America has posed:
    One moment, America finds herself embroiled in what, for her, was probably a pretty typical ending to a fancy event. In the next, a slosh of lively shadow engulfs rises up behind her, and she does what anyone would naturally try to do:

    She tries to punch the darkness.

    Fortunately, whatever the conclusion to -that- would be never gets to be discovered. Before her fist can land, liquid dark drenches her -- and she finds herself someplace wholly other than where she was before. Landing in the Titan's lobby in a churn of shadow, body twisted about in the pose of someone ready to smite something, the moments where America are dazed by this sudden turn of events are, perhaps tellingly, scarce at best. It takes a handful of seconds for her to blink and take in her surroundings, hear the voice behind her, before she relaxes. 'Relaxes' being a relative term, considering that passive little level of underlying tension running through her like a precaution as she turns that otherwise nonchalant stare Raven's way, a brow lifted up.

    "Coulda handled it," is her first statement, sounding absolutely, unfailingly confident about it. Still -- she looks around her one more time, curiosity etched in those brown eyes as she shoulders her tuxedo jacket a bit closer. "Huh. This your place, then? Some trick you got there, chica."

Raven has posed:
Raven stares blankly at America for a short time. There's a lot of assessment there, but in the end, the most she says is, "Yep." in response to the other woman's confidence. Punching the darkness would have been a bad idea all around, because it is, in part, Raven's soul-self. You don't want to punch that. It would, however, probably be cool to find out what punching it does.

Raven looks from America to the lift, for a moment, before starting her way towards it. "I'll be right back." she states, pausing for a moment. "We can go on that tour, then. I just need to get out of this." Sadly, America probably doesn't have the freedom to get out of her own tux, but Raven is at home- so she can change clothes.

She won't be gone for long- assuming America doesn't go sneaking around or object- and once she returns, she starts immediately. "Welcome to Titans Tower. We do a lot here, so there is a lot to see. Where would you like to start?"

Miss America has posed:
    Brown eyes sliding from Raven to follow her gaze to the lift, America cocks her head to the right in consideration. Ultimately, though, she shrugs in that calm, easy way of hers, finding her way to the lobby's desk so that she can just perch herself upon it. "Don't blame you, this is some stuffy-ass shit," she offers by some way of commiseration, draping her jacket over the desktop. As she starts untying her bowtie, she gives a simple nod Raven's way. "Do what you gotta do. I'll be here."

    To her credit, America seems to be pretty patient when she wants to be: Raven will find her more or less where she left her, perched upon that desk with legs curl up onto the surface. She's done what she can in lieu of any actual clothes to change into, that star spangled bowtie untied, the top buttons of her shirt undone, red waist coat left open and hair unbound to fall in loose curls around her shoulders as she taps away at her phone, idly messaging as she waits.

    She only looks up when she hears that voice, dark gaze returning to Raven almost assessingly for a moment before nodding exactly once. "Cozy," she declares, presumably of the tower, before she hops off that desk and pockets her phone. "Dunno, never been in a place like this before," which is more or less true. "How about we start with whatever you think's most useful."

Raven has posed:
Raven returns wearing what amounts to her heroing outfit. This is the thing that most people would probably associate with the woman the most: That Raven-emblazoned hoodie. The stretchy undersuit that... Basically looks like a form of yoga pants, frankly. The combat boots. Pretty basic.

To America, Raven nods. She ponders that for a time, eventually coming to a small realization. She makes her way past America to the fridge, pulling one delicate hand out of her hoodie pocket to open it up.

"This is the fridge. You'll notice that most things in here more than about twelve hours have mustard on them." she then closes the fridge without any particular hesitation, and moves over to the phone on the wall.

"In lieu of your own personal phone, this is the most useful thing in the tower. You use it to order in food that doesn't have mustard on it."

Following that, Raven makes her way towards the lift. "We have extensive training facilities." she notes, opening up the doors. She could teleport, of course- but she doesn't. Instead, she looks to be taking the lift.

Miss America has posed:
    Grabbing up her tuxedo jacket, America seems to consider it a moment before just hanging it over her shoulder with one finger, for now. A mild inconvenience, but she's also pretty sure she wouldn't hear the end of it if she just abandoned it like she originally planned. Sometimes, she can have foresight.

    As it stands, she has her attention more or less occupied by Raven by the time the other woman makes her decision; as Rachel walks past, America follows shortly behind, eyes remaining on her for the moment before her attention is directed towards the fridge. Stuffing her free hand into the pocket of her slacks, she considers Raven's words with the slow, gradual lift of her right brow until her entire expression just turns into an avatar of 'What.'

    "... Mustard. Right. Sure," she utters, after a long, careful moment of weighty silence as if debating how much she really wants to dig into that whole potential can of worms. She opts, instead, to look towards that phone, brows pinching inward. Silence settles comfortably.

    "... Yeah. Okay, that's pretty damn important," she eventually manages to concede, before just following Raven towards the lift. She settles in next to the hoodie-wearing girl, leaning herself into the lift wall as the doors quietly start to hiss shut beyond them. Her manages to stoically hold back her curiosity exactly until those doors are just about shut.

    "So what the hell is with the mustard?"

    ding*

Raven has posed:
Raven is pretty easy to follow with one's eyes. Her hands are back in the pockets of her hoodie and she's standing in the lift, leaning against the far wall in the same way America is. The tower is pretty huge, and the training rooms aren't on the immediately adjacent floors, so it's a minor wait.

"We have quite a few people on the team. One of them is Starfire. You met her at the party." she notes, "The attractive orange woman." That statement probably raises a question or two about Raven, but she continues on. "She's an alien." That line is delivered insanely dryly. Raven's sarcasm is pretty spot on. "She has this... Obsession with mustard. She puts it on literally everything."

The doors open, and Raven is still discussing it as she moves to walk her way through them. "She is also very friendly. She wants to help everyone enjoy their food as much as possible. This means that she will put mustard on the pizza if you let her get to it first. So don't."

The training room is a bland affair. It's all holo-tech from Stark and Wayne, so it is only interesting looking when it's programmed to be. Otherwise, it's a large empty room that is mostly punch-proof, in terms of America's probable internal ratings.

Meaning, it could take a beating, even if America was letting loose. "Most of the time, I'm in the command center up there." she states, "But we devote a lot of time to helping people fully understand and fully realize the extent of their abilities. It's one of our major purposes."

Miss America has posed:
    Dark brows lift just a little bit at Raven's description of Starfire as America makes herself comfortable on the lift. But the questions raised don't quite go asked, perhaps just because of how fluidly the Titan moves on from it. "Yeah, I remember," is her first response, before that infinitely dry revelation about Starfire's nature is met with the most ineffably bland stare in history.

    "Really," America flatlines out, a perfect deadpan counterpoint to Raven's dry delivery. Tit for tat and all that.

    As the doors slide open, though, America seems content largely to listen; by this point she's given up carrying the tuxedo around, and is just idly cinching the sleeves around her waist, knotting up ridiculously expensive hand-tailored material as Raven speaks. Wearing a tuxedo around her waist. It's probably good Kate isn't here to see this.

    "She's more enthusiastic than a barrel of sunshine," she asides as she exits the lift beside Raven. It could probably be received as more sarcasm, considering the girl's inscrutable affect, but, "... Not really a bad thing, though." A pause.

    "But if she touches my food, there's gonna be problems." Always a caveat.

    Still, America seems relatively content, at least for now; that underlying tension that she had been carrying around like a subconscious preparation for a worst case scenario seems to have (mostly) bled out of her strong shoulders, muscles relaxing along her forearms as she sweeps over the training room with a scrutinizing, critical eye. Punch rating: ... ... ... acceptable.

    "Not bad," is her lone verbal assessment; the glint in those brown eyes probably says more as she walks past Raven, footsteps echoing through the empty chamber as she looks around her. "Never really had a training room before. More hands on." She looks back to Raven, head cocked. "Don't usually take part, huh?"

Raven has posed:
Raven offers a nod or two. Yes, she sees what the woman is doing with the tuxedo, but she doesn't comment on it. She's not like Kate- she isn't overly formal, and prefers to be comfortable. Whoever paid for the suit hopefully understood that at a moment's notice the thing could be spare fibers anyways. After all, there was no guarantee that the Gala wouldn't be aggressively attacked by one of various hundreds of enemies.

Raven moves to the center of the room in silence, before offering her own commentary. "She keeps most of us... Balanced. We are all very happy to have her around. Her attitude helps people keep things happy."

There's this pause, as she finishes explaining that, offering a small nod of acceptance. "She'll try." Raven notes, not really capable of denying that Starfire wouldn't necessarily be able to hold back. However, there's something that she wants to address.

"That makes it sound like you're in." she states. After all, why would America have food for Star to touch, if she wasn't a Titan? "Which is partly why we're here. I don't think anyone else would object to the idea."

Only then, does she acknowledge America's question. "I take part as much as I can, but a lot of the time I'm there to make sure that nobody stays hurt."

Miss America has posed:
    Hands now freed, America lifts them up to slide into the curly mass of her brown hair and lock behind the back of her head, elbows turned up as she turns her thoughtful gaze up towards the command center.

    "Yeah, I get you," she says easily in response to Raven's comments on Starfire. "It's like having a box full of puppies, or something."

    But its Raven's follow up observation that draws the stoic girl towards a pause. Blinking, she looks back Raven's way, dark brows etching upward just a bit. "Ball's really more in your court there," is her first response, sounding as ambivalent as ever. Yet, she manages the brief flicker of a wry smile nonetheless as she continues, eyes shutting briefly. "... But yeah. Guess I am. Don't really know all of you but..." She looks back towards Raven again, for a moment, before her shoulders lift. "... you don't seem half-bad to me. Wouldn't mind working with you."

    With that, her hands fall away from her head to find her pants pockets again as she makes her way around the training ground and back towards its center beside Raven. "Someone's got to do it," she declares after Raven's answer, with the small edge of respect. "Bad shit can happen, even in here, yeah? Someone with a good head on their shoulders oughta be looking out for them."

Raven has posed:
Raven might make her first controversial statement of the night. "I prefer cats." she states, though, admittedly, there's a joke there.

She nods, though, starting to pace lightly in the ring. "Not necessarily- not everyone wants to be part of a team like this. So it was important that I make sure you were interested." She states, pausing in her pacing to stand nice and still. Hood up, she looks almost mysterious, standing there in the bright white room. "You'll get to know all of us over time." she states, "But it will probably be... Very good to work with you." It took her a moment to properly phrase that.

"It's more... I'm not a leader. It's better that way." she notes, offering this light shrug, "But I can heal people if they're injured. So if things get a little too heated during training or if we just have to go quickly from training to some problem somewhere, I make sure that everyone can still fight." she notes, playing it down as much as she possibly can. She never stops, though, watching America move.

It'd be hard to say that Raven isn't looking out for everyone on the team, though. That much is certain.

Miss America has posed:
    I prefer cats, Raven says, and as she actually registers those words, America can't help herself; after dark eyes shutter in a blink, amusement overtakes her in the form of a single snort.

    "Yeah," she concedes in the face of controversy, "me too."

    The white of the room provides such a sharp contrast to the dark cast of Raven's clothes; it draws the eye inexorably back to her like a lone ink blot on a blank canvas as she speaks, the bulk of America's attention now on her as she peers past the shadows Raven's hood provides. "Not usually the type," she admits. "But... it could be helpful." For what, she doesn't deign to say -- maybe she just assumes 'superheroics' go without saying. As close to the vest as she seems to like to play things, though, she still manages to answer Raven's final personal sentiment with an easy and sincere, "Yeah. Looking forward to it."

    But it's Raven's explanation that receives most of America's curiosity. She remains silent for a long time as she watches Raven after her words, as if weighing both her and her played down answer in that piercing brown gaze of hers. That silence reigns before she just makes her way over, lifting a hand to rest it easily on Raven's shoulder in a brief exchange.

    "I get you," she says simply, in lieu of anything else. No other questions -- she seems content to just leave it at that, her hand slipping away just as easily as it came.

    "So, you got a place you like to relax around here, chica?"

Raven has posed:
Raven is silent for a long time. "There are a lot of people that aren't usually the type. That think they are better off, or that they need to be alone. I can attest... Nobody -needs- to be alone. Nobody is better off alone. We don't... We don't say when you're allowed to act. Most of us will probably be the people you have to beat to the punch. We don't say you're not allowed to do your own thing, too, or speak your mind. We just try and make sure that anyone who wants it, has a place." she states, giving off her own two cents.

Frankly, if there's anyone on the planet that knows this, if there's literally any person that has ever existed that would lend the most credence to this lesson... It's Raven.

She looks for a moment at the hand on her shoulder. She doesn't look entirely uncomfortable and the uncomfortable that she does look seems off. Like she appreciates it- but doesn't feel like she should be allowed to. She doesn't say anything until she addresses that last question.

"Well, most of the others tend to hang around the lobby. We've got basically any amenity there, so there's plenty to do to relax."

Miss America has posed:
    Nobody needs to be alone. The words resonate with America, even if she can't quite bring herself to admit it. Her eyes dip groundward for a stretch of time as she falls into thought, lips pinched into a line of pensive neutrality that eventually spreads to the rest of those typically disaffected features. For someone who almost literally grew up doing her own thing, Raven's words...

    "Doesn't sound half bad," she ultimately concedes, a small if not significant thing from the traveler from afar.

    It's ultimately that response to her brief breach into Raven's personal space that garners her attention again, a sort of conflict of sentiments that flash in the other girl's expression that makes America, briefly, tilt her head at the sight of it. There's some semblance of understanding there -- and perhaps that's why she doesn't bring it up or even call attention to it, instead making her way towards the entrance to the training hall as that hand finds its home in the pocket of her slacks once more.

    "The others," she echoes as she walks, casting a look over her shoulder. "But not you." No judgment there -- just an idle observation, seemingly born out of personal curiosity, before she just shakes her head as if willing to leave it like that -- she will, though, give Raven enough time to answer if she wants before she makes her way out the door, lifting a hand to beckon easily as she goes. "C'mon. Let's see what else you've got here."

Raven has posed:
Raven is mostly silent as she makes her way towards the lift. The girl is at least somewhat awkward, to some degree. She doesn't speak about herself a lot. "It's not half bad. Sometimes it's close. It depends, week to week." she notes, offering this slightly sarcastic echoing of America's statement.

Raven didn't react poorly, but there wasn't a lot of investigation really required to figure that out. She might thank America for not calling attention to it, at least in the training room.

There's a long, pensive look at the terminal for the lift as America and she re-enter. It seems like she's trying to make a decision of some kind, and it's the kind of decision that seems to take a long while for her to reach. Eventually, though, she does, and a dainty hand slips from her hoodie, to poke at a button on the terminal.

She hasn't looked at America in a while, and instead, she just waits, facing the door. When they open, she steps out onto the bare, concrete and metal surface... Of the roof of the tower. As this is immediately after the gala, the sun is set. It's night.

It's not as impressive to someone who can fly, admittedly, but it is still impressive, how good the view is.

"This is where I go. It's really boring."

Well, for other people it's probably boring. For Raven,the word is -serene.- The island they're on is so far out from the city that you can't hear the noise of it. The tower is dark for the moment, so there is nothing but peace up there, in the night.

Miss America has posed:
    Brows lift at Raven's echoed response as the lift doors close on the both of them. Arms crossing over her chest, America plants a foot against the wall, and tilts her head back to stare at the lift's ceiling. "Yeah, that's inspiring," she replies, her voice ineffably dry and poker face sublime as the doors click shut.

    If Raven keeps her gaze away from America, America, at least for a time, seems comfortable just watching Raven in turn as she keeps her attention so pit upon that terminal. She looks almost questioning -- but at the same time, she doesn't say a word either, as if content to just let Raven come to whatever decision she seems to be coming to, when she comes to it.

    Her gaze pulls away from the hoodie-wearing Titan only when they're about halfway through their ride, attention turning towards the door just the same as her companion. When they hiss softly open, America steps outside... and blinks, as she feels the cool wind brush up against her cheek.

    "Huh." Stepping out into the outside world, America looks around her with an impassive expression etched upon her features. Night time has long since come, and everything is so... quiet. She sees the lights of the city so far away like a distant concern, lighting up the horizon in a dull glow that reaches towards the sky above. She traces the slow gradient fade of that light towards those heavens, and for a moment just stares at the dark skies that bear few hints of the stars and countless worlds beyond... and everything that might be beyond them, too. It's boring, Raven says.

    And America just walks past her, until she can just settle down on the edge of that t-shaped rooftop, feet dangling off the side over that ground so far below, as if that's right where she belongs.

    "Maybe," she says, terminally blunt as ever as she looks over her shoulder at Raven, "But I like it. You know how to pick 'em, chica."

Raven has posed:
Raven can only be so inspiring. She's sarcastic, snide, and various other things- and if she senses the opportunity for a joke that isn't going to outright piss anyone off, she'll take it. She can be funny, sometimes- and it's not all puns, like Garfield. She's got that casual nihilism air going.

She steps out along the roof a bit, and America steps on past her, before Raven catches up to her. Raven sits down in a way that only someone who flies can, lifting up off of the ground and then slowly lowering herself down into a sitting position next to the taller woman. "The quiet is important. Sometimes it's difficult to keep centered with everything going on. And when people know where your room is, it's harder to get some time to yourself when you need it. So I come up here to meditate and re-adjust. To keep the goals in sight."

She looks out over the island the Tower is on, quietly gazing over the trees and shoreline. Then, she tilts her head, looking straight up at the sky. By now, she's pulled the hood off of her head, exposing the porcelain flesh of her face.

"I guess I do." she states, not necessarily downplaying how neat it is to sit on the roof of a building like the Tower.

Miss America has posed:
    Hands planting into the hard surface of the roof behind her, America leans back comfortably, reclined against her palms as she watches the settled darkness of the night sky. For as sarcastic as Raven might be, the terminally terse Chavez doesn't seem to mind in the slightest. If anything, she seems more at ease than she might otherwise be -- though that's also fairly relative for someone like her.

    Brown eyes roll towards her left, in the shorter woman's direction, as she speaks, catching sight of that pale face exposed against the night sky. Her brows lift briefly, but eventually that dwelling gaze looks away, towards the cityscape beyond.

    "I hear that," she murmurs after a moment, her tone weighted like someone speaking from personal experience. "Gotta have something to anchor yourself. Otherwise..." She just shakes her head, expression distantly wry. "... Don't worry. I'll keep this spot on the down-low between you and me." Which might be a ridiculous statement, considering the roof is far from a secret hideaway, but -- it's more the gesture, rather than the context.

    So, she just looks back at Raven for a moment, at those exposed features. A smile nearly threatens its way to her lips, before she goes back to watching the sky, comfortably close in equally comfortable quiet. "Damn right you do."

Raven has posed:
Raven is... Content. She sits there on the edge of the roof, looking off into the light of the stars, watching their tiny, twinkling shapes all the way off in space. "That would be good. Thank you. I don't mind sharing it, with someone-" There's a pause, for a moment. "Or a couple people." she corrects, "But I don't want it to get... Too crowded. I value privacy..." she notes, clamming up, just at that point.

She's watching the sky for a little while longer, before eventually... America's last statement and, indeed, the silence somewhat gets to her. She turns her head, and looks down at America for a moment. Just to take in the expression on the woman's face.

Miss America has posed:
    Feeling eyes on her, America's gaze is drawn back down toward Raven, a brow lifting faintly into the air. It's something that fades into something more contemplative as she considers the look in the Titan's stare. She doesn't say a word -- not at first. She's always been the type to act first, and tonight? Tonight is no different. Shifting in her position, she turns herself towards Raven, leaning in towards her. There's a comfortable confidence in the way she does it, drawing herself closer until...

    ... she pauses, just inches from Raven's lips, as if something were holding her back from closing that scant bit of distance left between them. She hovers there, brown eyes shutting. "... We oughta get back," she utters briefly, her words taut like she was restraining herself from something, still lingering close.

Raven has posed:
Raven is dumbstruck. The woman's face approaches hers, and most of her instincts are telling her that she should flee. That the only result of letting this happen will be that someone gets hurt. Perhaps worse. She knows she's not supposed to have this sort of thing- that she's not supposed to just -allow- this to happen. Rather, she knows that she can't be allowed this kind of contact.

All the same, it's not Raven that stops it from happening.

When America pulls away, Raven is... Highly conflicted. Part of her is... Relieved, that America hasn't gone through with it. She doesn't want this to end badly- she doesn't want anyone to get hurt, because she couldn't keep her emotions in check. Still, America hasn't pulled her head away. Raven hasn't either. She hesitates for a short while, just sort of lingering there. Then, after a moment, she speaks.

"I... We shouldn't."

Miss America has posed:
    She can see it, there. It's in the way that Raven reacts. The same way when she had been given that brief physical contact, but all the more intense for the immediate threat of intimacy. America might prefer to operate as a blunt instrument -- it's so much simpler, after all -- but growing up the way she has, she is nothing if not perceptive.

    And when those brown eyes open, she sees that conflict writ large in Raven's gaze. It's something... more, than what she expected. It makes her brows crinkle inward at the sight of it. Relief is there in Raven's expression, and something else, that makes the other girl want to stay. So America hovers there as if in flux, the faint tilt of her head just enough to bump her forehead against Raven's with the brush of curled, brown hair. We shouldn't.

    "... Yeah. Maybe."

    It's ultimately that sight that makes her - slowly - pull away from Raven, lips so close that they brush lightly drawing back so that America can take a slow, steadying breath. It's not easy. Part of her doesn't want to. The other part...

    "Sorry. Let's go."

Raven has posed:
Raven lingers in that position for a while, before America pulls away, and stands up. Raven almost, almost wants to ask her to stay, but knows that she, ultimately, simply shouldn't. She retreats, sitting at the edge for a few moments, looking up at the stars.

She nods again, but doesn't stand up to follow, "I have to... Talk to the others and get the process rolling. Starfire will probably contact you soon." she states, reaching up to quietly pull the hood back over her head, rendering her face no longer visible from the sides or behind.

Miss America has posed:
    Thumbs hooking into the pockets of her pants, America looks Raven's way as the Titan lingers at the edge of the roof. A frown touches upon her lips, lingering there before she turns quietly on her heel.

    "Alright," she manages after a moment, forcing herself to make her way towards that lift as she raises a hand into the air in parting. "Do whatever you got to." She stops, briefly, at the lift as the doors open, looking behind her towards Raven, so thoroughly hidden by the veil of her hood.

    "I had a good time tonight," she offers, after a moment, before slipping inside. "Catch you soon, chica."