7043/From Watchtower with love

From Watchtower with love
Date of Scene:	26 March 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Oracle, June Connor

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Oracle has posed:
The night to night work of Oracle is surprisingly easy once it's broken down into the very basics: Watch PD bands, listen in to comms traffics from the various groups in Gotham, coordinate. Aside from specific Ops, Babs doesn't even need to be at the keyboard for most of it, and she's got hands-free headset hanging around her neck for those occations where someone needs the Hacker to get them information on the bounce.

That leaves hours worth of time to fill where there's no real work to be done.

Some of that time is spent doing her own investigation or digging into a piece of tech provided by one or another Gotham Knight. Right now, she's dancing in her makeshift living room to late 2010s pop. Probably Cardi-B. Wearing pajamas pants and a tanktop with her red hair pulled up in a top-tail so it fans out around her as she jumps from the couch to the table where she is absolutely certain nobody in all of Gotham might find her shaking her ass like a twenty something scene kid.

June Connor has posed:
    The elevator opens. June, back from the wars. She wears what she's often found in. The look of someone who just got lost from a screamo concert. Thrashed ribs on her t-shirt, a second hand black denim jacket, her duffle over her shoulder. She walks in, blue dyed hair showing her brown roots, she's been gone for several weeks without a touch up. "I'm back," she calls out, walking directly for the stairs to make her way up to the second level where her room is. "Anybody die here while I was gone?" she asks. The tone seems less teasing and friendly than most people might when they make such a joke.

Oracle has posed:
In usual circumstances this sudden arrival would call for diving into a closet or other such nonsensary that Babs is just too old and/or self confident for. Rather, she finger waves from the living room table and continues dancing as if this is just status quo. She's a single woman living in a clocktower in Gotham: It's safe to say she's probably not put together the same way as other ladies her age. "None yet, hoping we can keep it that way, if at all possible." As June ascends the stairs, Babs lowers the music a little, "Eventful trip?"

June Connor has posed:
    June looks down as she makes it half way up the stairs, only seeming to register Babs' dancing as an after thought. "Were just dancing to Cardi-B?" she asks belatedly, as if she just caught her shoplifting. She gives a smirk, as if she finally has something to hold over her landlord. "Yeah. It was. Let's see...
    She holds up a finger for each thing she lists, tapping it with her opposite hand to count. "Got shot at, shot someone, discovered aliens, boss got blown up, shipwrecked, and interrogated by the one and only Nick Fury. He's a shithead." The last count is on her thumb, and she turns it into a thumbs up. "Just another day at the office. How about you?"

Oracle has posed:
"Correction, still dancing to Cardi-B." Babs says with two fingers pointing up at June over the banister as she continues in her dancing. Which, as it turns out, being a trained ninja makes halfway decent as far as freestyle dancing goes. At least she can jump from object to object with relative ease, anyways.

As for the recounting of events? Babs just nods. She may not be in a war or interrogated by Nick Fury, but she took the business end of a Bat-rogation recently and there's no way the two aren't distinctly similar. And getting shot at? That's just how things get done. Unplushed, "Want some wine? I'll open a bottle." It always helped Batgirl.

June Connor has posed:
    "Fuck. Yes." June continues ascending the stairs, and carelessly tosses the bag into the room. She kicks her Converse off, then peels out of the tight shredded pants. She's only twenty, but it's not the first time she's drunk around Babs. She wanders down the steps again, "I just wanted a normal fucking job for once. No ninjas, no murders, none of that shit. But nope, now I get to meet aliens. Fucking Aliens. Babs." She wanders toward the kitchen. "Guess I'm fated to have a life from hell," she says, leaning on the counter.

Oracle has posed:
Babs retrieves a bottle from a rack near the cabinet and a pair of wine glasses from above, "I know this is kind of belittling of your plight, and I assure that isnt' even remotely my intent, but I'd rather aliens than clowns." Both glasses turn over to set on the counter while Babs works the bottle opener with effecient ease, quickly dolling out a healthy pair of glasses for both. "Some people are just destined for bigger than than working stock at walmart overnight, huh?" Grinning ever so slightly as she raises her glass with an elevated brow. "To living in interesting times."

June Connor has posed:
    June takes the glass, still leaning on the other elbow, and shrugs. "Die young, make a pretty corpse," she says, tinking the glass against Barbara's. "Unless you get blown up by a grenade, or beat to death with a crow-bar, or decapitated," she shrugs non-chalantly. "All possibilities." She takes a swig, not respecting proper wine etiquette. "Just, I thought it'd be a nice vacation. So you guys run into the riddler, or prankster, what the fuck do they call the nut in the white facepaint, I forget." She's still relatively new to the Gotham scene, most of her experience being outside of the masked wackos.

Oracle has posed:
"Joker." Babs says of the white facepainted guy and she says it with a great deal of inherent dread as if it holds some level of resonance with her, but it's just as likely the mention of being beaten by a crow-bar. "It can happen. You can just be visiting your dad and get your spine blown out with a big ass handgun." Tink of glasses, Babs has gulped down a huge portion before the sound has even stopped echoing. "No prankster, though. Mostly just the Sentinel business. Starting to move in, despite all indications that Gotham neither wants nor needs their intervention."

June Connor has posed:
    June shrugs, "I mean, not a really big mutant population here," she comments. "But fuck, if they had some of the loons that there are runnin' around in New York? You bet your ass they'd be more in favor." She stops, pointing with the same hand holding the glass. "Before you judge," she says, trying to interrupt a possible rebuttal. "I'm not sayin' that it's cool for the mutants, or right, or any of that. I'm just sayin' it's understandable."

Oracle has posed:
"Jury is still out for me." Babs admits her own feelings on the Sentinels. Her exprience with them is limited, but from all indications, they are not at all good for Mutants. "If there's a large enough mutant population, there's bound to be one or two among them using their powers for ill gotten gains. Does society have the right to protect itself?" She shrugs and sips more from her glass, leaning against the counter as well. "Not my place, but I'm definitely keeping an eye on anything that fields militant robots for any purpose. Not doing so would be foolhardy."

June Connor has posed:
    "I mean, fair," June agrees. "And I'm sure that there's plenty of people that want to find a way to steal that tech. If the Shredder is really allive like they say, he'll be sure to try to get his hands on it." She says Shredder the way Babs does Joker, but it's no secret to the Oracle that June is absolutely terrified of the Foot Clan in general, so it is likely no surprise.

Oracle has posed:
"Batman has been doing his own investigations into that angle." Babs motions with her glass as conversation amidst a group as they inevitably turns to one about business, "For what it's worth, anyways." Not like Bats has a track record for ridding the world of evil, afterall. "Plenty of organizations are getting their hands on Sentinels though and it's not improving anyones opinion on them wholesale."

June Connor has posed:
    "Yeah, that's for sure. So what're we up to?" she asks, "I mean, besides dancing to music that is way blacker than you." She takes another sip of the wine. "You should just get your buddy Oracle to take'm over. No reason all the robot armies should belong to bad guys, right? Use those fuckers to vaporize shit when it goes bad."

Oracle has posed:
"Don't think Oracle hasn't considered it." Babs says in a quiet voice, leaning against the counter with one finger sliding along the lip of her glass, "Listen, I cannot be held accountable for having good taste in music despite my ethnicity. I feel like Cardi-B is for everyone and likely she'd agree." Who even knows where she'll be in 2027 though. Somber subjects abound and any attempt made to draw herself out of them always falls upon itself, "I doubt Oracle would use them precisely in that manner, though? Maybe just turn them off when the need arouse."

June Connor has posed:
    June turns up her lip in a sneer, the lip ring hanging dowwn and poking out. "Y'know, maybe we should all get taken over by robots, people suck ass. Damn, listen to me, sounding all philosophical. This whole trip, just fucked with my head. Since you are in the Cardi-B moment," she observes. "We should go clubbin', get plastered, wake up someplace where we don't remember what happened. You're way too serious too much anyway." She gives a tilt of her head, as if somehow that would be a temptation.

Oracle has posed:
Babs raises a brow at the suggestion or the philosophicalness or some combination of them both, "I haven't been clubbing in so long I barely remember when." She laments with a drawn expression and a slowly turning glass of wine moved with the tips of her fingers about the stim of the glass. "I guess it's an option, but trying to find a decent club that's not owned by Penguin could prove problematic these days? You hip to the scene and know a half acceptable locale?"

June Connor has posed:
    "I mean, if he goes by "Penguin," June answers, "You know he's gotta be high class. Never met him, but Iceberg Lounge is pretty dope," she admits. "But there is an underground club about 8 blocks from here. As long as you just... y'know, ignore the drugs and stuff for one night. Don't gotta always be the hero."

Oracle has posed:
Babs looks at the computer as if it somehow plays a part in her decision making, then reaches down to pull her headset up onto her ears to listen for a second allowing the voices of the ether to add their two cents as well. In a breath, she's removed the headset completely and is heading for the living room after finishing off her glass of wine. "Alright, but I can't promise I wont break someone's wrist or something. Gotta keep up images, ya know how it is."

June Connor has posed:
    A toothy grin crosses June's face. "You are gonna be so shitfaced by the end of tonight, it'll be great." She puts down the glass, "So get...whatever you would normally call your club clothes." She pauses as she takes her elbows off the counter. "Fuck, do you have club clothes even? I've never seen you wear anything that could be remotely considered interesting." What a nice thing to say.

Oracle has posed:
"I don't know what kids wear to clubs these days." Babs says in her best granny voice, walking past her computer to drop off the headset with one hand laid in the small of her back as she pantomimes shuffling towards the steps. "Do they still wear those shorts what ride high into the buttom?"

June Connor has posed:
    "Yeah...no, they don't," she says. Of course, Babs is a few inches taller than June, and she puts her hands on her hips. "Just wear a skirt or somethin', half of them will be too drunk to care, the other half will be too high." She gives a shrug, and heads up the stairs to change herself. Of course, June has a boyfriend, so hopefully she won't be looking for someone else.

Oracle has posed:
"A skirt or something." Babs climbs the stairs at a jog, circles at the landing and heads for her own room where she's got a ton of clothes... Most of which is business casual or pajamas, but she's pretty sure there was a skirt laying around in there somewhere for when she use to date... someone. Maybe that was a dream. The skirt, however, is not and when she arrives back out it's in a shortish black skirt, matching tanktop, and heels. "You know, people usually have a few hours to get ready." She shouts, from the bathroom, trying to make sense of her hair and makeup.

June Connor has posed:
    June changes. Kinda. She puts on a black skirt, and takes off her shirt, so that she's wearing only her bra, and puts the leather jacket over it. Quick club costume June doesn't seem to be worried about looking particularly good. She laughs, "Fuck it, it'll be dark anyway. Besides, most people will be lookin' at your ass more than your face."

Oracle has posed:
"You are not doing very good at selling this, June." Babs grunts quietly into the mirror, still fussing at her hair until she just pulls it into a ponytail that leaves her neck line bare and her curves far too visible for her own liking. "This is a terrible idea." This for herself, snatching a black leather jacket off the door where she hung it as she exits down to the lower floor. "How did you talk me into this again?"