Owner	Pose
Natasha Cranston	Christine's is one of those smaller cafes just off the main thoroughfares that manage to keep operating despite Starbucks' near stranglehold on the market, mostly by catering to people who appreciate the 'authentic' atmosphere as opposed to a corporate franchise, or who are willing to walk that extra 200 meters for somewhere quiet to have a coffee rather than stand in line for a triple mocha almond latte. The latter is one of the reasons Natasha appreciates the place -- as well as the fact that very few people would expect to find a nine-figure CEO in a place like this means that as long as she makes sure no one notices her coming, ensuring no one recogizes her takes little to no effort; all the better if the purpose is to /relax/.     This evening she's ensconced in her favourite nook in the back of the upper terrace, where the light that illuminates the table doesn't quite reach her face or upper body...
Barbara Gordon	Ms. Cranston may be adept at dodging the media and crowds, but it takes a lot more than that to elude Oracle's radar. Suspicions have been mounting, and although Barbara hasn't been able to put anything definitive together, there are a lot of pins with colored string circling Natasha Cranston on one of her many case boards. Routines and preferred watering holes have been sorted for some time.     The redhead who wanders into Christine's looks like she could be any one of a number of regular customers. Dressed casually, she carries a shoulder bag that looks like it holds a couple of books or a tablet. There's a brief pause at the doorway, then she makes her way directly to that little nook in the back.     Sliding onto a chair directly across from the CEO, she offers in a low voice. "Good evening. I'm here on behalf of someone who would very much like to meet you. Professionally, of course."
Natasha Cranston	There is an unhurried pause as the woman across from her considers the sudden intrusion into her private space. Finally, she looks up at the redhead, bright blue eyes boring into green, then tilts her head. "Usually when someone wishes to meet me professionally, I have an excellent secretary they can contact and /introduce themselves/ to make an appointment," she points out, a polite - but still present - reproof at the lack of manners.
Barbara Gordon	The redhead smiles at that. "Of course you do. I'll be direct with you." she offers, deliberately omitting a name. Just in case. "Your company's successful trends have been remarkable. And they've not gone unnoticed, either. There are other matters that are much noticeable, at least the the general public. Especially regarding renovations made to a certain private island that happens to be in international waters."
Natasha Cranston	"I'm certain any such renovations were made in full accordance with the appropriate treaties as well as the laws of the polities that claim to said islands," Natasha replies, still entirely unconcerned. "And I'll note you still haven't introduced either yourself or your mysterious sponsor, so I admit I'm somewhat uncertain why I shouldn't finish my coffee, and then inform Christine that someone who hasn't ordered anything herself is bothering her paying customers when I leave..."
Barbara Gordon	"I'm Barbara Gordon, and I'm here on behalf of a person who goes by the name of Oracle. You may or may not have heard of them." Taking a cell phone out, she sets it on the table and touches the screen. "I wanted to be sure you were here before ordering as well." She even went as far as naming the table number for the delivery. "Oracle has a lot of information resources which could be combined cooperatively with your own."
Natasha Cranston	Oh, she's /good/ -- there isn't so much as a twitch of recognition as Barbara casually namedrops the secret queen of the internet. Instead, Cranston plays the politely clueless billionaire to the hilt, tilting her head slightly. "... I'm sorry, is that name supposed to mean anything to anyone who doesn't go around calling themselves Acid Burn or Count Zero?" she asks.
Barbara Gordon	Barbara chuckles softly at the response, shaking her head. "As I said, Oracle has gone to great lengths to avoid becoming a household name." She pauses, then, as a waitress brings her coffee to the table and departs. "And yes, while I'm quite certain that everything done on or around or -beneath- Ms. Blake's island is appropriately legal, having Blackhawk Squadron operational again in *any* form is going to draw attention." Hopefully that's enough of a teaser. "I've been authorized to offer a digital curtain to hide the island completely. No purchase orders, no invoices, no deliveries. No paper-trail whatsoever. And no US government agencies."
Natasha Cranston	"Interestingly enough, you'll find that in fact the Blackhawks' mercenary charter was never actually revoked in the first place," Natasha replies with a faint smile. "When the founders traded in their spitfires for cargo haulers they found it advantageous to retain the paperwork, and subsequent boards of directors liked the allure of excitement it conveyed, allowing them to pretend to be more interesting people than they actually were. All of Miss Blake's paperwork is entirely in order and aboveboard... And I've yet to hear what your mysterious benefactor hopes to achieve with this proposed generosity."     Her tone is still mild, but there's a slight hint in her narrowing eyes that someone is treading dangerous ground and should choose her next words carefully.
Natasha Cranston	"... Moreover, I'm not certain why you're making this proposal to me, as opposed to Miss Blake in person, as decisions such as these would rightly be hers to make."
Barbara Gordon	Barbara smiles at that, looking more than a little amused. "Because Oracle has talked with Miss Blake already. And while Miss Blake is certainly a lot of things, she is ultimately a woman of action. She's not one to become overly involved with business decisions."     Barbara sips her coffee, then. "There is a field team that Oracle is putting together. People who are willing to do the *right* thing, even if the law wouldn't otherwise condone it. I would like to discuss this in greater depth with you, but I don't want to get into specifics in a coffee shop. I will mention a name, however: Quentin Matthews."
Natasha Cranston	... Impressive. Barely even a twitch. If Barbara hadn't had such extensive experience with Alfred keeping a straight face in the face of the outre she'd never have noticed it.     Natasha tilts her head, leaning back and looking upward as if earnestly searching her memories. "I'm familiar with the name. A former director of the Board at CMS during my absence? Apparently some kind of notoriously spectacular nervous breakdown, I was told. Why do you ask?"     The question's innocuous tone is perfect. It might even have fooled Barbara if Natasha hadn't chosen that moment to meet her eyes again without leaning forward into the light..     A tall figure standing in a dark room full of unconscious goons, face and features concealed in shadow except for blazing blue eyes that seem to stare straight into and through her soul, reading her every sin as if from a book...     ... And then the moment passes as Natasha lifts her cup to her lips and takes another sip.
Barbara Gordon	The moment isn't lost on Barbara, that's for certain. And it's only afterward that she considers the wisdom of actually meeting that bright gaze. Too late now. Green eyes brighten at the nonchalant question, and she replies. "One of Oracle's operatives visited Mr. Matthews in Arkham recently. Apparently he's had visitors. Visitors who could come and go at will. Taunting him. Driving him crazy.     "Matthews kept talking about HIM. Him and his shadow. And it seems whoever this mysterious person is, if they're not on your payroll they certainly should be."     Barbara takes another sip of coffee. "Unless Matthews really IS crazy, and this is all in his head. I wouldn't rule it out, but it usually takes something extremely traumatic to push someone to that point."
Natasha Cranston	The feeling of relief when those eyes look back down to that cup is almost physical.     "The board and employees of Cranston Multinational were shocked and saddened at Mr. Quentin's tragic mental decline, and as the CEO I earnestly wish the man a speedy recovery and a long life," she notes mildly, almost literally quoting the press release from the article Barbara had uncovered. "Of course, I was still out of the country when it happened, so you'd have to ask someone else for any details. I do once again wonder what, precisely, 'Oracle' hopes to gain from this entire discussion, or from association with someone who you imply deliberately traumatized a talented young man with a rapidly rising career into that kind of permanent psychotic breakdown..."
Barbara Gordon	Barbara smiles a little at the literal quote. "Oracle could use someone with that skillset on the team." she offers. "Someone to leave a... lasting impression. But yes, you being out of the country at the same time does throw a wrinkle into things."
Natasha Cranston	"I'm sure they could," Natasha replies, a faint smile briefly gracing her lips before her coffee up once again conceals the lower half of her face. "Of course, someone like that strikes me as... Difficult to find, and harder still to contact."
Barbara Gordon	"Difficult almost by design, I would expect." Barbara agrees. "But Oracle is used to people who are difficult to contact. And they are also good at keeping secrets." Reaching into her bag, Barbara produces a simple card that has nothing on it besides a telephone number. She passes it face-down to Natasha across the table. "In the off-chance that you run into this individual and they're inclined to talk, this line is encrypted at the source. It ties in directly to Oracle."
Natasha Cranston	Natasha considers the card for a moment before taking it. "Should I ever encounter someone like that, I'll be sure to give them this number," she responds. "As it is right now, however, my coffee break is at an end and I've a meeting to attend. Good evening, Miss Gordon. My regards to your... Patron."     With that, she rises from her seat and walks away from the table, vanishing into the crowds outside almost as soon as she exits the building.     When Barbara likewise makes ready to leave, she discovers that her bill has already been taken care of.