Owner	Pose
Harper Row	Go to Metropolis they said. It would be full of opportunities they said. Ms. Row strides past another store window. Past the glare on the pane, between the posted deals promising the latest in 5-geewhiz, the young Gothamite can see some dynamite new tech. Her breath makes short-lived condensation and her cheek creates a bit of a smear. "Hello Mama." she whispers. For a moment, an intrusive thought creeps in. It's a bad thought and is accompanied by some tongue clucking. Her hands go into the pockets of her coat. There are gadgets there. Her fingers flicks and drag over a few choice buttons and dials. She even activates one, producing a whine like a Pup scenting on some Scoob snacks. The store sells the latest Aupples and Awdroids, just the kind of thing that could go into the innards of some of her patchwork drones. It would be so easy to blank the store. The feedback charge she's building in her pocket, at this range, she could EMP the joint. And it's such a fancy joint, with warranties and product plans that cost months in rent. "Do I...don't I...Do I...don't I..." She's a long way from home, and few around here know her.
Troia	New Troy is a lovely part of the City and it's here that Donna has come to speak with the Vogue Studios online division about acquiring temporary work as a photographer for their coming Fall lineup. With her hands in the pockets of her rolled sleeve leather coat, over a black tanktop and matching black leggings, she wears a pair of untied combat boots. How much does hair play into recognition of people, however? She is the twin sister of Diana Prince. Identical in every single way to the Princess of Themysicira with one, notable, exception: Her hair is cut short, shaved on the sides, and slicked back. With a series of earrings run down the back of both with heavy darker toned makeup on her tanned skin that gives her a much gloomier look to her sister. As she passes Harper, who speaks quietly to herself in a considering tone which draws the Amazonians attention. Tilting her head to peer at her in the reflection of the glass she's pressing her face against, "You okay?"
Harper Row	Harper's posture stiffens and the definition on her neck, particularly the mastoid muscles go all taut. Classic hand-in-the-cookiejar type physical reaction. Or swallowing something down the wrong way. Her eyes sweep over to the reflection of Donna. A fleshy screech of skin on glass and she turns to regard the striking stranger. The feedback of a thumb quickly cycling down an electric charge ~scronks~ and then quiets as Harper does a 180 and thuds her elbows against the window to prop herself. "Hmmmmwuzzat?" It's a few seconds of respite while Harper tries to decide what sort of demeanor to adopt. It's delayed when her punkish self has to take in the aesthetic of the stranger. She digs it, and is also a bit peeved and flustered. "Oh I'm good, super good. Never better, couldn't be better." One does not necessarily need super senses to detect the lies slathered over with blathering. "Why, is something wrong? I didn't do anything."
Troia	The response was almost as jarring as stumbling upon someone talking to themselves. Which isn't to say Donna thought anything was out of sorts, persay. Her brow raises just slightly, perfectly manicured brow that it is, over blue eyes, with both hands coming up to pat the air between herself and Harper, "Sure. Just seemed really interested... is all.." And talking to yourself. She leaves that part out, for obvious reasons. Then drops her hands down into the pockets of her jacket, which is ill-suited for keeping the cold off. A good thing since it's not cold out yet... It's fashion over function here. Style rather... depending on point of view, this hardly merits fashion. "Just saw someone leering with their face against the glass and thought I'd ask." Head tilting to look through said window at the wares within, "Ah... the-" Snaps a few times, "-smart phone.. Cellular devices. I've never really had much use for them myself." Attempts at friendly conversation to defuse the awkwardness. Like wise taken aback by the stunning woman who spun around to face her. The reflection did a poor job of truly capturing it until now.
Harper Row	Harper's eyes would have followed Donna's hands, as a force of habit, but they remain rudely fixated on the other woman's face. Her respiration is up, for obvious reasons probably, though the little exercises she's doing to get her ducks back in a row are helping. Her chin lifts and then drops a bit. A crease between her brows as she tries to fathom that last statement. "Never?" Hair-flip. Almost innocent, one of those efforts to keep the tickle off from the folicles draping over one eye. Donna is so familiar, and has a disarming quality of tone and charm. Must be on television, but then where is her entourage? Harper digs into her other pocket to pull out her miniature totem to technology, cracked glass screen within a slim protective case. The housing bulging with some warranty-destroying modifications. "How on earth do you do all your banking, tune bopping and trolling if not in one convenient package? Selfies?" Harper cocks her hip. If she fired up her screen she could be very gauche and Gooble up Donna's image to help with her brain, but there's something creeping into her memory if she could stop trying to posture and pose in front of the stranger. Crossed wires when her blood is up. "I mean, I guess it's one way for you to avoid all the dickpicks and offers of duct cleaning..."
Troia	"When 900 years you are, need technology you will not." Donna says with a creeping grin spreading across her black lips on tanned skin. A distinctly Greek appearance, tall and muscular. With her hands sitting on her hips just above an abdomen that would require someone spend far more time doing crunches than just about anything else with their day. It's almost unfair how physically fit she is. Ask her, she'll admit it. The rigors of what she had to go through to get this body, that is. It was hard. "Sorry." She extends one hand out to Harper, "Donna Troy." Perhaps recognizing the stare, one she's all too familiar with. When people are trying to decide whether she's Diana Prince. "I'm not her." Misunderstanding, "Though she is my twin sister." Clearly assuming that Harper has, if not figured it out, is on the fast track to doing so. As for dick picks. "That is certainly one way, yes. I've really only got one gentleman suitor attempting to court me at present and I believe he is keenly aware of my proclivities. If not, I'm certain it wont be long before he figures it out."
Harper Row	Harper is subconsciously mirroring the appearance of the grin, like she's in on the joke. The moment it all clicks home is when she becomes like a statue adorning a greek pillar. Frozen in place like she was posing for a picture. Oh snap. Harper reanimates, the pupils of her eyes constricting as she extends her hand on reflex to complete the handshake. One modem calling another. A packet of data doing a little show and tell with another finer, muscular, beautiful packet. "Hheeeeuu..." she utters under her breath. She squeezes Donna's hand, but it's not in a dainty manner. She can't hurt her. Frig but she hopes her palms aren't moist from playing pocket pool. "Just one? Whut dah fuck?" Her mouth closes and then ~pops~ opens with a moist ~pok~, like another neuron has just made a connection, though perhaps working on false assumptions. "Intimidation...riiiight. Yeah, I bet they invert when they realize you can bend them into any shape of the alphabet if they try anything." she grins and nods stupidly. "Though I'm fond of certain letters myself." A good memory will unfortunately never let her forget she said that. Harper clears her throat and keeps shaking Donna's hand. "I wasn't thinking of really doing anything here. Just lusting after what I can't have, but could easily get. I could do it, but I chose not to. Obviously. I'm not a baddie, quite the opposite in the grand scheme fo things. Honest." she apologizes, her admission coming hot on the heels of her earlier bad thoughts. Like her conscience has acid reflux. "I mean I could." She can't let this bone go. "I could get you free Streams, I could shut down everyone else's for blocks around. I could be a menace." A free hand rakes through her hair.
Troia	"Only one that's telling me." Donna answers the question even after Harper has come to her own conclusions as to the reason. Her smile remains, honest, easy, and showing just a hitn of her white teeth behind black painted lips. "Can I have that back?" Mostly said in teasing, the handshake wasn't terribly hard. Nor was it exceptionally long. It was just a good natured playfulness seeing the recognition dawn in the blue haired woman's eyes. With her hand once more on her hip, she wraps her fingers around her trim waist, hip jut out to the right slightly. Several people peer at them as they pass, but those who do recognize her speak their greetings without stopping. And with a glance, Donna returns every wave. There aren't so many that it's terrible inconvenient to do so, after all. She is ''not'' her sister. "I'll take your word for it, but there's no reason to prove it." Laughed out with widening of her expression, for some reason trusting that the woman isn't actually trying to be deceitful, even without her lasso. Which, when one looks closely, is represented by the chains running down her jacket. Carefully concealed in that way as part of her fashion. "Do you have a name, or should I call you 'Data Stream'?" Eyes follow the hand racking blue hair, head tilting thoughtfully. ... "I was going to let it go without commentary, but I have to admit my curosity is gotten the better of me. What letter is it?"
Harper Row	Harper has her hand back, and she has to put it somewhere cool where it won't do a creepy finger dance in the air. She clasps it with the other, finger-tips together and thumbs tapping. "Harper. Harper Row." she eunciates on the R's with a touch of gravel in her voice, faux-edgy. The question of letters has her bark a laugh, eyes alight. "Definitely L, though I'm pretty fond of G's and B's." Cheekily she bites at her lip and balances her weight on one foot and then the other. Her teeth clack together at the greetings of the public to Donna's presence. It makes Harper's hackles rise, but the tingle is threatening to tickle rather than annoy. "X's are good too, around the eye area, cartoonishly, if I see someone tries to bully someone." "I'd say you can call me anything." Hold-up, Full-stop, back-up. "But. But." Yeah. "You don't have anything to call me on, no phone." Save! Another raspy laugh and she tries to gear-shift. "What sort of proclivities you up to today?"
Troia	"Harper Row." Donna repeats the name, nodding once definitively in a clipped gesture. "That's a very pretty name. What does it mean, I wonder?" Not every name has a meaning, of course, but Harper Row is unique enough that it may very well have some origins that regal to a good story, at the very least. While it is not that she is unaware of the passers by who call out their greeting, more that it seems a pleasantry which she extends without thinking. Autopilot. Raising a hand and offering a smile to the small company who have... Truly, it's no more than 3 or 4 given the entirety of New Troy's population. "Ls... Gs and Bs.. Xs too, against bullies." She hoists a finger and waves it, "That one I understand." Mouth quirking just so, eyes darting around them when Harper's hackles rise... or to offer rest from her attention when she nearly overtly flirts. Which, by her expression, was not lost on Donna. "If I had a phone, perhaps I'd give you my number." She offers with a tilt of her head, fishing a pen out from inside her coat, "Instead I'll give you one that will reach me? It's a lan-line at Titan Tower, installed specifically for myself.. while Diana attempts to teach me about cellphones." Her hand turns over, extending out as if she wants Harper to lay her's into it. "You seem delightful, Harper Row."
Harper Row	It is a supreme effort to try and maintain a facade of what appears non-plussed. The urgency to not come off like a fangirl is giving her something akin to tinnitus. The whine in her ears could be some invisible earbuds getting supercharged by a car battery. Try-hard Gotham girl used to making girls blush and blokes back off according to her personal advertising. Fight or flight, flirt or frig-it-all-up. The little laugh is a delaying tactic. "I'd pay good monies to see you slug some scum." Wait at least 2 seconds before snagging the piece of pap...Oh. Pen but no paper. Needs paper. Must record digits. Write down number of which Harper has mighty need. Something to write on. My face! Write on my face! No...hand good. On face would need mirror and then backwards. Simmer down. Sploosh. Harper extends her hand to Donna and takes in a measured breath. "Phones do have their uses! If you hit a brick wall and need tech support even, I'm your gal." Yeah, add in the wink and the wry grin. Finger-gun that L-shape with the other hand.
Troia	Donna has surprisingly smooth hands for someone with as many warriors callous'. Moisturizing, while still have a thick layer of protection on her palms and finger tips for wielding weaponry. But where that's at all important is the way she traces her thumb along the inside of Harper's knuckles when she gently bends her fingers back to straighten out her palm for writing. The pen is set to skin, number laid out in it, and then she closes the blue haired woman's fist around it by closing her own hand like a flytrap. Which holds onto the little fist for a shade of a second. Blue eyes look up, tongue racking back and forth in a little oh shape of her black painted lips. One side threatens a smirk, while the pen ticks side to side with the guidance of thumb where it anchors and fidgets along her index finger. "Don't feel like you have to call me just for tech support." She says with a glance around, then back to Harper, "I'm usually very forward, but I understand that it's not necessarily as welcomed away from Themysicira." The jacket opens and the pen is tucked away, only looking away for the time it takes her to find the pocket before returning her attention to Bluebird. "I'll let you get back to your window shopping, but I'm very glad I stopped to speak with you, Harper."
Harper Row	Harper watches the ink stain her palm, and she's already committing to memory the digits as they're systematically laid out. The sequence of numbers should have invoked a little side-quest in her head to vacation in the lands of numerology for a spell. A habit of some study habits when she was devouring mathematics and tried to exercise mental muscles. As a bit of fun. The dork. No such daliances happen now though. And her breath catches when her fingers are made to close and her fist is covered by Donna's own. She raises her gaze to those other blue eyes. Harper bobs her head in a trio of nods. "Same. Really glad you stopped me from knocking over this store." she half-jests, or at least tries to. She strains up and over the mental speedbump. "It's very...You're very welcome. I mean, it was rad to meet you. Yeah. And I should let you go do what you gotta do. Time won't slow down for me or you." Though perceptions sure can to encompass big important moments.
Troia	Donna meets the jest as it was intended, with a grin and quiet tremble of her shoulders indicating a muted laugh. Her hand remains wrapped around Harper's, but it has long been her belief that people find kindred spirits in the world in the most unusual of places. She has always been subject to the whims of her instincts and something definitely draws her to Harper. So with a little sigh, she nods and releases the woman's hand to rest her's upon her hip. "Unfortunate, but true." Her feet are already lifting off from the sidewalk. Hovering above and backwards with little concentration and exceptional ease. Something in her is almost giddy, which is rare enough. So while she lingers a tade longer and stares a moments further, it's with her gaze cast down to look upon Harper as if to commit her appearance to memory. "I look forward to hearing from you." Then she's gliding backwards into the sky, against her desires to remain and speak to the blue haired woman for hours.