Owner	Pose
Harper Row	Are there such things as Cons for those with gifted grey matter? This one seems to be advertising as such. The rented conference room is fresh off of hosting a Con for a cancelled but well-loved show, the glitter of t-shirt guns having almost completely been hoovered up. But not quite. Still, for a series of speaking engagements and show-and-tell's for women interested in the pursuit of science, it's not bad. Though there are banners and placards pinpointing some rather clever minds and motivation and drive, the really sparkling examples are mostly in the eyes of Presenters and the ideas being discussed. On stage, something is being set up to discuss clean energy ideas. The automated help shifting equipment from the Amazonian lifestyle demo buzz and whirr while attendees stand and stretch, low-key chat. The next talk is touching upon something about portals, solar bodies and the completely safe thing that can never go wrong by combining both. Hot and cold drinks and finger foods draw interested individuals. The crowd is a diverse one, some looking still in College while others are rocking tenures and tempestuous ideas about other generations.
Mockingbird	One of the attendees isn't here only for the conference. No, Bobbi is here to meet someone. To meet someone very specific about a clandestine tech group. The tall blonde is dressed comfortably in designer jeans, a silk blouse, and a blazer. Boots with riding heels slide up under the jeans, and to complete the look she is wearing her hair pulled back and glasses, rather than her usual contact lenses. While the next talk is preparing, Bobbi wanders off to concessions to find a chilidog and some kind of sweet soda. The glasses not only correct her vision, but the SHIELD-issue equipment has a heads-up display flashing images of the various, potential contacts that she is supposed to meet.
Harper Row	If there's a proximity whats-it capable of a heads-up to Bobbi's brilliant equipment, it'll let her know someone(s) from the SHIELD database are in attendance. Speckled, like the remaining confetti detritus, these persons are amongst the others in the crowd. But one in particular (codename: Bluebird - Exile of Gotham) is threading her way amongst the chitchat, moving in like a used car salesperson seeing someone hover over a price sticker. The food isn't second hand, and there is no mark-up for those that are already past the entrance. But Ms. Harper Row's grin, wry and slanted, is coming with purpose to offer an opportunity. The punkish girl isn't dressed for a live show at some dive, instead having dressed in clothes without rips and tears, though her piercings are all in. Her usually messy faux-hawk is swept back by a headband bedazzled with buttons. The hairband bearing little doohickeys to help control her drones, and giving off passive wifi shenanigans to help her tap into this and that like the troublemaker she can be. Harper shoulders in beside Bobbi, her tongue making her her bottom lip protude like she's gnawing on some big league chew while she scopes out the blonde. She asks softly, "Can you believe all that stuff about an invisible island of Xena's?"
Mockingbird	Mockingbird's glasses pick Harper out of the crowd, tagging the girl and following her movements around the room. Her dossier is still running as Harper shoulders in beside Bobbi, the older woman working on her chilidog without looking out of place. Turning at the sound of Harper's voice, Bobbi finishes the bite she's chewing before she replies. "An invisible island? What?" she replies. And now Bobbi takes the moment to look the blue-haired girl over more closely. "I'd offer a hand, but..." She lifts the soda in one hand and the chilidog in the other. "Doctor Barbara Morse." she offers. Head tilting, her smile becomes more playful as she nods towards Harper, indicating her piercings. "All that hardware help with the wifi?"
Harper Row	Harper offers a salute pilfered from Red Dwarf. The gesture somewhere between an old WWII recruitment poster, but tainted with dorkdom. She seems to have second thoughts as soon as she's throw it out there though. Probably because Bobbi radiates professional with-it vibes, like a real grown up, and that rubs up against Harper's own thing. But there's a glimmer of humour there that suggests Harper can maybe stop trying to jump to conclusions. As usual. "Row. Harper Row." Yeah, she manages not to try and do worse by tagging on something made up. It's a near thing, this burning urge to fan her feathers. "Pleased to meet you Doc. Oh...this thing? Heh." Her own eyes flash and she shows some pearly whites. "Naaaah, though if I could, I would. That'd be cool if I could make 'em small enough to carry some fun...But, nah. Mi-fi, through my headband does cut through the noise and get a front row seat to the straw everyone has their lips around. A lot of phones and tablets in here after all..." Her eyes squint, trying to Sherlock what Bobbi is bringing from just her own natural peepers. "Hey, Nadia will be glad you came. I am too. Can't think of a better place to say hi, hello and...how interested would you be about helping out an independant and terrifying smart band of do-gooders?"
Mockingbird	Mockingbird lifts a dark brow at the salute and the introductions, taking another bite of her chilidog to finish it off. She dabs at her lips, then licks her fingers before wiping them as well. "Well, Row-Harper-Row, that's sort of why I'm here." She pauses, wadding up the napkins. "To talk about your organization, I mean." Her gaze flits back and forth a bit, although her HUD shows no current threats.     Harper might notice, with her training, that Dr. Morse also has a pair of fighting sticks in a case along her spine. Nadia... the glasses bring up Nadia on her list and start to run another dossier. "That would be Nadia Pym, right?" she replies.
Harper Row	Harper purses her lips and sidles over towards the nearest table to snag a cup of coffee. It's already been prepped and mixed. It's not hers. Cradling her elbow in a palm as she holds it aloft to blow across the rim, dipping her chin to listen. She offers a double-nod then buzzes her lips playfully. More of a Bee than a Wasp but, that's as far as her mimickry goes without gadgets. "Yeah, that's right. She's the core of all this. Started it up." She sniffs. "Yeah, Pym comes with a lot of ideas, and I think the foremost is she wants to do good. She's seen a lot of...bad. So I think she knows what she wants to avoid. I'm not up with all the super spy stuff. She's hella sharp and smart, and the stuff she can do, it's like nothing I've seen before. Still trying to wrap my head around it."
Mockingbird	Mockingbird doesn't need to glance around, now that they're talking shop. No one in the vacinity shows up on the database. And Harper's response confirms suspicions. "I'm aware of the Pym reputation, at least." she replies, taking a sip of her soda. "I'm not sure how much you know about me, Harper, but I'll assume that you ladies have done your homework. I do have a ...fair ...amount of experience with clandestine operations. I'm also a biochemist, if that helps to round out your skillset." No, she doesn't mention S.H.I.E.L.D.
Harper Row	Harper flutters her lips. Less a buzz and more a eye-widing nod. Maybe she's being cute, trying to portray she knows more than she does. Pretend she's got digital dossiers. Her body language is all caffiene and anxiety, bound up in as non-chalant package as possible. "A biochemist would be Boss." Each B getting a helluva big ~buh~ enunciation. She swirls her disposable coffee cup to swirl the godawful mixture of preference of its previous owner. She is careful to move the rim to a spot that won't make matching lipstick marks. "You and Nadia could probably talk shop long into the night about what Atomic Blonde got right and wrong I bet. But yeah, you've got fingers and toes in a place that I don't think any of us can arm wrestle over. Not really. GIRL is more than a toolbox to me, speaking personally. We're not tools, just so you know, because my wordsmithin isn't tiptop." Harper clears her throat. "Nadia has shared some, but she respects you, so she hasn't given me all the biz and browser history of people to ask in. I can promise we're on the right side of things though. Gawd, maybe it is more like a club...But it isn't too stiff. Free flowing ideas to go with gals who wanna do good. No forms to fill out." she winks. "I'm curious, like, you ever want to let your hair down and get up to some stuff? This probably sounds like kindergarten stuff, compared to what you've dealt with?"
Mockingbird	Mockingbird's upper lip curls at the mention of Atomic Blonde, and she chuckles. "I get plenty of toys from my current employer." she replies, careful not to be more specific. Then Harper asks about letting her hair down and getting up to stuff. Bobbi gives her a wry look in response, her voice lower. "Listen, Harper, I'll come clean with you. First, I'm very interested in GIRL, otherwise I wouldn't be here. Consider me very interested, even." Bobbi steps a little closer, then. "Second, I've read your dossier and we have more in common than you think. I'm trained in several styles of martial arts, I'm a certified expert shot, and I continue to train every day so that I keep my skills sharp."
Harper Row	Harper flutters her eyelashes, mouth lowered to take another sip of five-finger discount coffee. It's in this faux demure pose that Bobbi approaches her and she stands her ground. She doesn't sip though, watching back with eyes that widen just a bit more than before. That caught-in-the-headlights look. The 'honest Officer, I only had one drink' kind of thing. The more confidential, one-on-one delivery is probably super effective when she's got someone tied to a chair. "Oh yeah?" is her bombshell response, just brimming with brevity. She chews on her bottom lip before pouting it out while she thinks of something more intelligent. "Oh shit, I've got a dossier." she mumbles out loud, not having meant to. She sucks in through her teeth, feeling a bit impish. "I bet you're certified. Iron-clad, bullet-proof creds, and I ain't gonna throw shade." But. "I'd like to see how sharp."
Mockingbird	Bobbi's smile is fully of mischief, and now she -does- glance around the room. "Honey, most people have a dossier. They just don't know about it." she quips back. "My credentials are -government-, and I'll leave it at that. Besides, you're from Gotham. What did you expect?" With a shrug, Bobbi finishes her soda and throws it away. "I've got a pair of fighting sticks under my jacket and an automatic in an ankle holster. Never leave home without them. We could go right here and frighten all these nice people, or step outside and hope we don't get arrested for disturbing the peace." She shrugs, then adds. "Unless you had other ideas."
Harper Row	Harper gives Bobbi the once-over her grin broadening in return. "Yeah, let's not upset these nice folks. They're gonna miss the sun portal demo if we do. I hear there's even slides." Harper places the coffee cup to the table and tilts her head to the side entrance off to the side of the hall. "We can avoid incarceration ~and~ a panic. I bet you never get a parking ticket." she muses. "C'mon, my other idea is just through door number 2."