Owner	Pose
Black Canary	Ashes on Wednesday has become somewhat of an underground sleeper, from their humble days as a bar band in Starling to now a North American tour ... of ... bars. OK, and one larger venue in Metropolis. But Metropolitans are weird. Thus it is here, in another bar, that looks and feels like any other bar that 'DD' (which is not, she stresses, to one 'funny' interviewer after another, a reference to her dimensions!) and her talented crew have been in over the past two months. Day in, day out: it's a bar change room or the van, sometimes, when she gets tired of the van life, a hotel room (which makes her manager have conniptions). And night after night she sings her heart out, accompanied by the three women she joined briefly as a lark, only to add them to her life. And night after night she does that daring thing she does of jumping down into the mosh pit while performing, joining her fans and forming a bond with them that may be risky (or so it seems to those who don't know the singer's secret), but certainly aids in building the base needed for the album drop later this year. And now the set is over, and the band, having chilled a while in the dressing room, has changed out of costume and slipped, as incognito as is possible, into the bar for their free drinks. 'DD' sits in the middle of the bar, a bottle of Jack in her hand, a tumbler in the other, legs crossed as she leans back against the counter top behind her, regarding the club.
Bruce Banner	Bruce was there. He wasn't typically the type to go to concerts, but he had heard some of Ashes on Wednesday and wanted to show up to their set. He was wearing regular clothes. Black shirt, brown overshirt, blue jeans. His hair had grown a little long, long enough to touch the back of his collar and a beard grew on his face lightly. He seemed shy, though he needed to find healthy ways to relieve stress. Of course, the's plenty of options: drinking doesn't really work, sex is fine if he had the right partner, so that left one thing: music. Being here was a nice day away from Avengers Mansion. And of course, with Dinah dong her thing, she sings her heart out, and suddenly, she starts to do that daring thing when she jumps into the crowd. Little does she know that Bruce was one of hte people who had caught her and picked her up to pass her to others to carry her while she sang. Then? When all is said and done, he approaches her after he notices her enjoying a bottle of jack, trying to look incognito. "I uh...uhm..." Yes, she was beautiful. Yes she was a badass. Yes, Bruce is dumbstruck. But he's gonna try and talk to her anyway. "I thought you did great."
Black Canary	Caught mid-slug, DD freezes a moment before swallowing and lowering the tumbler. "I'm pretty good at drinking, thanks," she says, pretending badly to not be who Bruce thinks she is. Very badly. For a few moments she stares with false innocence before slumping and shaking her head. "I'm that obvious, am I?" she mutters, possibly to herself, but loud enough for Bruce to hear. "Hi," she says, then, putting on her game face. "It's nice to be appreciated. You're looking for an autograph?"
Bruce Banner	"S-sorry I uh...d-didn't mean to catch you at a bad time..." Bruce Banner was a shy guy. Though Dinah seemed to be willing to tolerate him. She tries to ward him off and Bruce winces a little bit but says nothing. Is she that obvious? "Y-yeah...I uhm, would suggest a wig." He offers to her with a smile. She puts on her hand face (which may well make Bruce melt) but when Ashe asks if he's looking for an autograph, he shakes his head. "N-no ah...you're off duty and I don't want to bother you with that. If I w-was in your shoes, I figure I'd want to e-enjoy my drink too..." He clears his throat. "I just thought I'd come say hi and uhm.." He extends his hand to her. "Bruce."
Black Canary	DD glances at the hand, then at her full hands. She sets down the tumbler and reaches out, only to awkwardly stop because, well, drink was in the left hand. Bottle was in the right. Grinning with an 'oopsie', shrug, she sets the bottle down as well before extending the correct hand. Both items set on the bar. Behind her. Without her turning around, without her looking at the bar or at the items, and without a single drop being spilled. Bruce knows a woman with that kind of bodily awareness... "Pleased to meet you, Bruce," DD says, shaking the hand and squeezing it lightly. "When I'm not up there..." Her head tosses in the general vicinity of the stage. "...I'm Dinah." She snorts then and adds, "And wigs are too hot in this kind of place with poor ventilation. Besides I don't really mind talking to fans, especially ones that are obviously not so drunk they're easily fooled by me dressing in jeans..." About a size too small. "...and a tee." Crop-topped, and two sizes too small in a babydoll configuration. If she's trying not to get attention she sucks at it. Still, it is a very different look from her torn fishnets, barely-there bodysuit, kerb-stomping boots, and battered leather jacket look that her kayfabe role has, not to mention the garish use of makeup carefully stripped. Well, except for the kerb-stompers she's apparently decided to keep on. "You're not in my usual crowd, Bruce. You like NuPunk and metal?"
Bruce Banner	Wow, she's /really/ coordinated. He knows her type, the kind of people who Who are so coordinated that they know exactly where they are at all times and exactly where they're going. It reminds him of Natasha in a lot of ways: Agile, sexy, powerful, no doubt knows how to use what she has for an advantage. Bruce shakes her hand gladly, a slightly prolonged contact that Bruce doesn't seem to notice. "Dinah? That's a great name." He figures she gets 'Wow, pretty name!' all the time so he figured he'd change it up. "I like it." Though when she gestures to it, his eyes shift to her clothes that are way too small for her,meaning they hug her already voluptuously athletic frame rather snugly and meant to draw the eyes...and yes, she gets Bruce staring. At least until he remembers himself. "S-sorry..." He apologizes, before he continues. "Ah, that's because instead of a mosh pit, I'm usually in a lab.." Bruce chuckles. "But I've heard y-your music. It's really good. I-I like your voice." Oh god.
Black Canary	And now Dinah laughs, with a musical, almost tinkling laugh. "I'm usually in a flower shop," she says with a straight face, "when I'm not touring. And I'm glad my music touched you. It's kind of something I do for ... therapy, almost? ... so it's nice to hear others find value in it. Helps with the ego." Then she shows off. Bruce hears his own voice coming back at him from the mouth of this singer. A pitch perfect replica. "What is it you like about my voice, Bruce? I can't quite place my finger on what makes my voice unique." Her eyes sparkle in the assorted lights of the club as she regards Bruce with a frank grin.
Bruce Banner	"No kidding?" Bruce almost seems flabbergasted that this hardcore rocker works in a serene environment (comparatively) like a flower shop! That rules. "Your music helped me. It...well, I have a temper that I'm trying to treat with music. Yours has saved me from myself more than a few times so I thought I'd see you in person." He chuckles. "T-therapy would be a good word f-for it." Then she's showing off, repeating his voice to him as if she had caught it completely. One, that's really hot in a weird sort of way, and second, EXTREMELY impressive. He looks at her in shock and he gulps. That sparkle in her eyes doesn't help. It makes Bruce want to make poor decisions in the assorted lights of the club. "U-uhm-uh..." He stammers over his words. "Y-your voice!" Like it's an answer. "I l-like how it c-carried and uhmm..."
Black Canary	And again the musical laughter. "I'm being really mean, sorry," she says after the burst of humour, shoulders still shaking from the laughter she's suppressing. "I'm working through that with my therapy." Which is her music, recall. Oh, and smashing bad guys in the face with assorted body parts, but that's not something she'll bring up at the moment. If Bruce is paying attention though, at things that aren't wrapped in too-tight fabric, he might see some thin white lines between the bottom of the cropped tee and the low-riding jeans. "So yes, my voice is how I got the gig. Well that and the original singer was a prima donna who flaked out just before a gig and the girls were desperate enough to let me front for them for the one job so they could get paid. Then ... well ... we clicked, and I sang differently than anybody else they'd ever heard, so ... I got the job." And the fame and the glory and the adulation and the ... all the stuff missing from her civilian life. The fact Canary got all that just ... wasn't the same. "So we've been working together since. I hired a few helpers at the shop and started this tour."
Bruce Banner	"I-I think the word is playful..." Dinah was being cruel, sure. But something she ought to know about Bruce: he's /always/ paying attention, even if the eye-popping detail of her outfit holds much of his attention, he manages to notice those white lines. Bandages? A thong? He gulps. Those jeans are riding pretty low....Is Bruce dead? He's dead, right? Aaaand he's back! He looks at Dinah as she explains how she got the gig, his eyes briefly lower to her lips, then back to her eyes. A silent offer mayhaps? But he nods rapidly. "I-I'm glad you had the opportunity to t-take the lead..." he chuckles. "I-I think it was always meant to be you..t-though that b-begs the question...where you going next?"
Black Canary	Not bandages. Not thongs. Not part of clothing at all, though the flashing lights in a dim bar can make things very tricky to work out. No, they're scars. At least five visible scars from the front, four of them fairly clean and straight, but one ragged. Again, Bruce knows a woman with scars like this, though he may not be thinking straight given how the scars are being found... "OK, playful is good too," Dinah cheerfully chirps. "Hey, listen, why don't you pull up a chair instead of standing all awkward like that, Bruce." She pats the stool next to her. "And as to where next? You may have heard a few new songs in the mix; not covers and not the old stuff. We're dropping an album this year." She chuckles, adding, "You're in the experimental crowd to see which songs make the cut."
Bruce Banner	No bandages. No thongs. It was scar tissue. The light played serious tricks on Bruce's mind, granted, they were quite the lovely tricks considering how they made Dinah look. Appealing. Tempting. Enticing. Bruce gulps for a moment, but he makes that connection....though he doesn't say anything at first, especially considering where those scars are located and the revealing nature of the finding. "I-I....y-yes." Bruce takes the stool next to her, though he tilts his head. "An album? I-I think it would be wildly successful...e-especially if you s-stay on vocals."
Black Canary	Dinah shrugs a bit at Bruce's prediction. "I'm not so sure. We're a live band. We get our energy from the fans and feed it back to them. When I sing I'm looking into the faces of the listeners and giving them what they want to hear; I don't know how well that translates into a studio." She chuckles a bit. "Wow. I sound like I'm some kind of psychic vampire or something when I put it that way!" Facing the bar again, she pours herself another drink and tosses back half the tumbler. "But yeah, we're giving it a shot. *SOMETHING* from the live show must get through a studio, right?" She pauses, watching Bruce's face as he spots something and makes connections. More amusement crosses her face. "Hypnotic, aren't they?" she asks. "I kinda suck at keeping that half of my life hidden. Not that it matters much. People who mess with me find out why I don't bother." Wait. 'That half'? Flower shop owner. Band front. Something else related to scars on her body. Three halves?
Bruce Banner	Three halves make a whole. His eyes widen. Even as she's talking about the live band and the whole nine yards. Yet, he stays exactly where he is for a moment before he looks at her and his voice softens. "Canary?" He asks of her, as if trying to ascertain that it's truly her, not his mind racing 900 miles per hour. Lets be honest though, his mind is always racing 900 miles per hour. But he looks at her a long moment then when she mentions that she sucks at keeping that half of her life hidden. "I believe you." He remarks to her. "But...well, it's always hard to do that, isn't it? Before life gets in the way in the most...heavy way possible."
Black Canary	Dinah just smirks at Bruce and taps her nose with her index finger, winking. "I don't have as many attachments as others in the biz," she says, without openly confirming, but not denying either, who she is. "It's easier for me to be sloppy. The few people who've tried to get at me the coward's way ... well, brain damage from concussion is real." Yes. That blunt, that dark, from that bright, innocent-looking face. In this she differs quite a bit from the woman she suddenly is obviously similar to in Bruce's life. She looks innocent. "But now you kind of get the idea why I need some way to blow off steam, no?" The other half of her tumbler is downed.
Bruce Banner	On the nose. Bruce just starts to chuckle a little bit. She has /no idea/ about blowing off steam. Or the need to do so. "Well, at least you chose rock and roll." Bruce smiles at her. "I'm trying to figure out how to contain..." He takes a deep breath. "Nevermind." He hums. "Brain damage is a real danger. Especially in hand to hand combat. It only takes one good punch." He chuckles softly, though she seems dark and innocent all at once...reminds him too much of Natasha. "But...yeah, I get it."
Black Canary	"Come now, Bruce. What kind of pressures can a nuclear scientist find himself under?" Dinah asks with barely-concealed mirth. Busted! But does she know about ... you know. "Though the mosh pit is a good place to blow off steam. I love pit-diving. Gets me closer to the fan base and ... there's a certain loss of control as you're handed around with almost no control outside of causing a certain amount of pain to those who deliberately grope. She tilts her head and watches Bruce's reaction as she says the next part. "Deliberately. You're fine." Because it wasn't exactly his fault she was flopped over onto him in a way that put his hand squarely on her posterior. "But yeah, the singing ... it's been therapeutic. The other side of therapy from the flowers. I really do own a flower shop. Sherwood Florist, it's called. And don't bother. I've heard all the jokes. I like the name."