2012 02 01 Girl Talk

Log Title:
Girl Talk

Characters:
Cattail and Dajan

IC Date:
02/01/2012 - a few hours after the events in Unbridled Violence

Location:
Dajan's room in her boarding house in Alphabet City

Brief log summary::
Cattail comes by to check on Dajan. They end up having one of those conversations

Rating:
r

There is no TS in this log::
Yes

Post your log::
There comes a tap at the window of Dajan's flat. It is repeated a couple times, just to let Dajan know it wasn't a stray sound from inside the building.

Not a flat, so much as just a little boarding house room. Dajan is conked out asleep on her cot because — long day. She doesn't wake at first to the tapping. But when it repeats, she mumbles, stirs, and blinks awake, glancing dubiously at the window.

Dajan gets off her little thin mattress on the floor and pads over barefoot to pull back the sheet and the blinds, grumbling in sleepy Creole.

Hanging outside the window is Cattail, otherwise known as Harley. When Dajan opens the blinds she smiles and gives a wave, "Little pig, little pig, let me in." Her mask melts away from her face enough to reveal the face beneath it, though not so much as to uncover any hair.
"Dang, woman, when I gave you my address, I did not mean /drop/ by when I said 'drop by'!" Dajan complains groggily, shoving open the window to the cold night air. This allows Harley an in, and it also wakens Dajan completely due to the abrupt temperature change. It's not balmy in this little room by any stretch, but still, Dajan's done what she can to make it cozy and warm. Mostly with blankets and comforters clearly scavenged from Goodwill. "Not that I ain't glad to see you," she adds, almost as an after thought. Still dozy — that's her excuse."

Harley stretches into the room as the window is cracked. Then she takes a moment to look around, "I didn't drop…I lowered myself. Very different." She rubs at her biceps, arms crossed over her chest. "So, I was out patrolling and I thought of you…so, thought I would come visit. See if you were turning into the scarf ninja."

For a second, Dajan looks confusedly at Harley, then blinks, eyes widening as realization hits. "Lemme guess. You saw the Central Park wedding thing on the news, didn't you?" She facepalms. "I din' have anythin' else to cover my face wit', and I hadda cover my face somekinda way." She looks up. "I promise, it has not'ing to do with the other ninja thing. I was all in my own right mind this time, honest."
Harley steps around the boarding room nosily for a moment, then she takes a seat on the matress, pulling up one of those goodwill blankets to wrap up in. "Well, it hid your face well enough. Just the combination of ninja and that scarf made me think. You sure you don't plan on becoming a superhero and fighting crime? You are hanging out with all sorts of big time heroes for someone without a proverbial cape."
Harley steps around the boarding room nosily for a moment, then she takes a seat on the matress, pulling up one of those goodwill blankets to wrap up in. "Well, it hid your face well enough. Just the combination of ninja and that scarf made me think. You sure you don't plan on becoming a superhero and fighting crime? You are hanging out with all sorts of big time heroes for someone without a proverbial cape."
Dajan chuckles half-heartedly. "Total fluke," she insists. "I was gonna go lookit MOMA —" Because she is still in tourist mode whenever she gets a chance. "And then this guy chats me up, and asks me if I'd see the museum wit' him. So I figure, okay, I guess not /every/ man in N'york is a freak job. But we get to talkin' an' he's nice. An' it was /nice/ out. So we decide to go walk up da block to Central Park an' see what's goin' on. We get dere — huge weddin'. Tents. Caterin' trucks. Police. News vans. Thought they was makin' a movie at first."
"Well, maybe you could stitch yourself a little mask. Carry it with you like condoms. Just in case." She kicks her legs out along the floor as she sits there on the side of the bed, "Everyone /is/ a freak job. You still thinking you are the only freak around? Safer to imagine everyone you meet is a freak. Then to imagine what kind of freak they are. That can be a fun game to play on the bus." Eyeing the room she says, "So, like I've got a spare comforter. And some stuff for your walls."
Dajan considers the idea of stitching a mask. She really isn't entirely comfortable yet with the idea of doing this regularly, on purpose. "No, no, I mean freakjob like 'mickey my drink, and then dress me up like … oh, I dunno, Lady Gaga, and pose me in compromisin' positions with farm animals' not 'mutant'." She shrugs. "But point taken. I'll see what kinda mask I can come up with. I was regrettin' tossin' that black thang I bought when I was outta my mind." She shakes her head. "Can you believe it?" She doesn't answer on the stuff for the walls or comforter, preferring to stick to the story at hand — at least for now.

Harley chuckles and says, "Well, now you sound like some old biddy. If you have a condom, it don't mean you are suddenly easy and are going to do any man you see. Like "Oooh, I got a condom. I need to go have me some sex before it explodes in my purse and kills me!" She shakes her head at the though, laughing a bit more, "Get yourself some simple, easy to carry thing. Cause…you know, it IS New York city. Weird shit happens here. Hell, weird shit happened back home, but your Maman was good at keeping you from seeing it. And it is obvious you aint gonna let shit happen to other people if you could try to stop it…so get a mask. Get a name that is better than Neenja. Then keep them to yourself unless you decide to bust them out."
Dajan listens, and looks a little chagrined at the idea her concerns about the freakjobs make her sound like 'some old biddy'. "Okay. I'll geet workin' on someting. Because gracious, no, I do not want anybody callin' me Ninja. Bad enough I'm always gonna remember wakin' up with Ben Grimm givin' me those big ol' concerned blue eyes an askin' if I'm a'ight." Yeah, it was nice, because Ben's nice, but still — bad association. "A superhero type name too, huh?" She looks down thoughtfully at her fingertips. "You'd know better. You been doin' this a minute."
Harley waves a hand, "Okay, so don't drink mickeys. But really, you know, most people are nice. There are less freaks like you are talking about nowdays than there ever have been…as a percentage." She shrugs under the cover, "I am so jealous of you meeting the Fantasic Four…and Spiderman! I should try to kill Spiderman just so I can meet them. And I am horrible at names. I called myself Monkeygirl for years…and now I'm Cattail…I aint exactly a name great."

Dajan goes wide eyed. "You went by … Monkeygirl? Seriously?" She starts to laugh, and has to jam her hands into her mouth before it goes from a startled giggle to full blown hysterica. "Cattail is … better, yeah," she manages when she collects herself.

"You want I should start collectin' autographs? I met another Avenger, though I don't know which one. He asked for my number, even." Dajan's eyeroll implies she doesn't expect a call, though.

"Well…if you had ever read or watched the news…sheesh. I'm the daughter of Gorilla Knight and Monkey Maid. It seemed a natural." She reaches up to her cat ears and tugs them down to the side of her head, and they lose their points, turning into cute monkey ears. "Tada! Monkeygirl. You had an Avenger hitting on you? Seriously?"
"You go get the time machine an' tell my Maman I should watch more news, rather than hopin' I pick stuff up off the internet in study hall," Dajan says, with a wry twist of her mouth. "An' well, it wasn't hittin' on me. He asked me to dance after the fight, since we were all invited to stay for the wedding. But I scooted. Work called me in after all, and I was /not/ dressed for the crowd. Please, he's not gonna call. Who am /I/? Nobody, that's who. He was just bein' polite." She pauses. "Maybe. Of course, he kinda knows I ain't exactly garden variety homo sapiens, too. I knew about the bomb 'cause I heard the goons discussin' it."

Harley snickers, "Well, if I find the time machine, I'll be sure to do that right after I kill Hitler." She rubs at her arms under the blanket, then switches to her thighs, chafing a bit of heat into her system. "You are pretty. You've got powers. I would guess with some superpowers, you are going to want to date only powered women. Or men, or whatever. Superpowered sex could be dangerous if you didn't have some good control with certain powers."

"Oh, chile, you must be cold. Why you din' say somethin', chere?" Dajan has a tiny, teeny little microwave in a corner, and a couple of cracked mugs, also from Goodwill. She gets up and takes the three steps across the room to it, pours some water in from the gallon jug she keeps beside it, and heats it up for cocoa.
"Boys," Dajan clarifies. "An', um, my powers ain't nothin' that fierce. No super strength. An' I gotta concentrate to do the claws thing." A blush creeps up her neck, though, now that Harley has planted the idea of superpowered sex in her head.

Harley laughs from under the blanket, "Oh. I'm getting warm right nice under your blanket here. Don't you worry about it." She watches Dajan get the water going, "Well, when you diddle…do you do your powers get in the act? I can get a little puddley. I have to watch for that if I am with someone where I can't…let them know right?"

Dajan freezes for a long minute and murmurs, "Um, well. I …thing is. No idea." Ding! Goes the cheap microwave. Saved by the bell. "Here you go, chere. Swiss Miss, mini marshmallows, yeah." Harley may be her closest friend, but the subject is clearly one around which Dajan is awkward.
Harley watches her friend's reaction, then laughs and stands up, holding the blanket around her body. "I'm sorry hon. You aren't used to talking about shi…stuff like this. I will try and keep myself strictly PG until you are ready for PG-13."
Dajan turns around. "It's not that I'm not used to talkin' about it," she says, a little hotly at her friend's nudging. "It's more … " She flushes, and says, through her teeth, "Lack of experience is the problem, okay?" She glances away, out the window, looking into a distance where she can see memories. "I wasn't the girliest girl, an' my parents were legendary wit' the strictness. So — not much of a dating life. I din' even get some stupid boy tryin'a feel me up on prom night." Her gaze returns to the present. "I'm right up there with the rest of the world on book smarts, but the practical application…I'm a lil tad bit behind."
Harley peels her cowl back, and it promptly melts out of existence. "Well, I figured that. You said you were going on your first date with that driving fellow." Harley would remember the name, but the player isn't OCD about such details. "But…you are all virginal, but…are you saying you've never done any um, self actualization? You have never had a special moment? Not one?"
Dajan is silent for a minute, before saying quietly and slowly. "Not before New York, a'ight? Can we please get off the subject of my woeful lack of education in sexual matters? I still got the condoms you gave me from before an' I'll be careful an' check the expiration dates if I need to use 'em." Yes, it's a little bit of a sore spot, for her. Not like she wants to be crying out in the night with the thin walls of the boarding house around her. And that may be the reason the walls are insulated with blankets — to keep out other people's sounds.
Harley nods, "Okay. Sorry. I didn't mean to embarass you or anything. Just was surprised about the…anyhow. So, are you making cocoa? You know I love cocoa." The blanket clad woman leans in to peck Dajan's cheek. "This blanket is nice and warm. Thank you. They charge you for the heat here? My place, heat is free, so I can crank it up to the melting point if I want. Which I do most of the time."
"yeah, they charge for the heat. And for the electricity." Which explains why the only light comes from a single lamp in the corner of the room which has aluminum foil wrapped around the lampshade to reflect it a little. "I'm savin' up for a real apartment. Just takin' a bit. Especially since my brief time bein' mind controlled spent some of my money on black clothin', an' I lost my shoes when I tried to fight Spider-Man." She can't bring herself to say tried to kill him. She's not quite crushing, but she's definitely fond of the webbed wonder. "Hadda replace 'em with a good pair." She points to the sturdy new boots with reinforced heels and soles standing by the door. "But I'll get there."

Harley looks towards the light then shakes her head, "God. That sucks. They charge you for the lights and the heat too? I got so lucky with mine. I almost went with a regular apartment. I thgought it would be better for the hero stuff." She lets go of the blanket and pats Dajan on the back, "Stop worrying about Spider-Man. It is seriously not something that any hero is going to be upset over. Mind control is nothing to be ashamed of. Especially magic like that. What are you going to do unless you are magic?" She looks over at the boots, "Those are sexy!" Shoes! Better. Boots!
Dajan shrugs. "It keeps the rain off me an' warm enough so I'm not freezin', so it'll do," she says. "You like the boots? They come well recommended on the web, and they are /so/ comfy, it's almost like bein' barefoot." And she realizes they've tangented away from the original conversation. "I never finished tellin' you what happened. Dane, that's the Avenger guy — and me, we were there tryin' to figure if it was a weddin' or somebody doin' a movie. I opened up my ears to listen an' I heard somebody talkin' about the bombs. An' then the sky filled with these flyin' taser balls! He gave me this apologetic look, whipped out his lightsaber, an' called his flyin' robo-horse thing!"
Harley wraps the blanket with one rubbery arm about herself to hold the blanket in place, while she picks up one of the boots. "They look awesome." She lifts her foot concentrates, trying to get the shape of the boot. "Dane? Oh, yeah. The Black Knight. What a strange superhero huh? Horse and sword, chainmail and all that. So…was he nice? Was he as good looking in person as he seems on the news?" Of course she's got a file on him…she's crazy like that.
"That'd explain the helmet and the horse," Dajan says, jaw-dropping. "He's an actual knight. And yeah, he's nice. Kinda old fashioned. A little weird." She pauses, shrugs. "When all the fighting was over, he got us invites to the wedding so we could enjoy the swanky reception. And he offered to buy me a formal gown because, well, no money to go shoppin'." From her tone of voice, she thinks offering to buy a perfect stranger an evening gown is a crazy thing to do.
Harley snorts, "Well, he calls himself a knight. I don't know if he is a real knight. That glowing sword doesn't look like anything I've seen in a museum." She sets the boot back down, "So…he got you an evening gown? For /that/ wedding. I bet that was a gown worth drooling over. Hell, selling that gown would pay your rent for a year."
"I didn't /take/ the gown!" Dajan squeaks. "I guess maybe it woulda — but who knows what he'd have wanted for that gown /besides/ the dance, man?!" She shakes her head. "I don't think I was prepared to deal with that."
"Oh come on Daj…You didn't take it? From an Avenger? I don't think they let creepazoids who give presents just to get into a girl's panties into The Avengers. And you said he was old fashioned. Oh well…no use crying over spilt milk." Harley giggles and shakes her head. She starts to say something, then zips her lip.
Dajan tosses her hands toward the ceiling. "All I could hear was my mother's voice tellin' me that kinda man only wants one thing," she protests, eyes squeezing shut. "An' I was already a lil tad bit freaked out because Sandman," who'd nearly arrested her for being a mutant, "And Spider-Man," to whom she insisted she owed an apology, "were both there. I guess I hit my limit on dealin' with stuff I wasn't expectin' to handle when I got outta bed this mornin'! So sue me!" 'So sue me'? She's picking up this New York lingo at least.
Harley holds up her hands in surrender, "Hey hey! I zipped my lip right? I wasn't saying nothing. Sorry. I didn't mean to be giving you shit..well, okay, maybe just a little, but you know, I don't want to beat a dead horse. And I still keep forgetting how crazy you were raised. Sorry. Well, I could see being…wait, so this guy offered you this gown and you were wearing that scarf on your face the whole time?"
"No," Dajan says, calming down a little at the placating gesture. "Once all the fightin' was over, I backed up outta there, and trashed the scarf an' my gloves. Came back with these."
She fishes in the little bag at the foot of her bed and comes up with a knit cashmere hood scarf lined with what looks like black fox fur. And the gloves, kid leather. "In all the panic, a lot of people dropped a buncha stuff. It was just gonna clutter up the park or get drove inna mud with all the caterin' vans an' cars an' whatnot." She gives a faint smile. "So by the time he asked me if I wanted a dress, I looked like me again."
"So…wait. He asked you, Dajan. Not you, the Amazing Scarf-Ninja? Or did he know you you were You-She-Ninja? It makes a big difference about the whole offering of gifts. I had forgotten all about your mask. If he knew you were the Scarf-Ninja, then it wasn't creepy. Not knowing…then that is way creepy. Not that you aren't a superfox who he /should/ ask…but still."
"I don't know if he knew I'm …augh, please don't call me Scarf Ninja." Dajan twitches. "It reminds me of being a ninja when I didn't know it. But I'd left…an' then come back. So I dunno if he knew or not. I only came back because we'd arrived together an' I didn't want him thinkin' one of the sky tasers had got me or that I hadn't waited for him after he ran off to whip out his sunsword or whatever." She considers a moment, pondering whether he said or did anything that indicated he realized it was her, and can't come up with anything. "But I guess even if he does know…we're even. I saw him in his regular walkin' around clothes before he suited up for the fight?"
Harley takes the hot water and walks over to sit back down on the matress, "Well, how about The Scarf? That is kind of catchy. So…okay, now how did I miss that bit? You didn't say you went there with this guy…okay, so now we are back to not-creepy." She pulls the blanket tight again, "Well, with real heroes like that they don't care. You have to let the Avengers know who you are to join. So they probably all know each other in and out of costume. I don't know…I haven't really met any superheroes except my family."

"The Scarf?" Dajan repeats, with a 'you-must-be-joking' tone in her voice. "Chere, you know I love you, but yeah, you don' got it when it comes to names. I'll come up wit somet'ing in case dis happens again. An' from de look of it, it gonna keep happenin'. We were jus' gonna take a nice lil stroll through Central Park. But really, I can't complain. Spider-Man, he not a bad dancer a'tall, an' the food was scrumptious!"
"There isn't anything wrong with that name! The Scarf!" She hops up off the bed and wraps the blanket around her face and neck, "Fear…The Scarf!" She hops around the room, giggling behind the blanket. "I mean, that is as good as Spider Man! He doesn't even wear black. He's red and blue! Have you ever seen a spider that is red and blue? No. Of course not…and you danced with Spider Man, but not with the guy you came with?"
"It sounds old fashioney," Dajan insists, regarding the scarf, though she's giggling too at Harley's antics. "And yeah, I wondered about that, but I don't know him like that to ask. And no, I didn' dance /wit/ Spider-Man. He did this dance for the wedding procession. Look. I got video." She has the phone in her pants pocket, despite the fact that she was sleeping when Harley arrived. "Lookie here." She plays the video. It's pretty much the jkweddingdance.com video, except Spider-Man is in front, and doing really showy cartwheels. The crowd is delighted, entertained, and some of the old ones a little bewildered. But everybody is having a good time by the time the bride and groom make their dancing entrance.
"Well, you have to come up with a theme for yourself…but still. I like /The Scarf/!" She even has a voice for it! All scary. "Oh…look at him!" She laughs at Spider Man's dancing, "Okay…so you didn't snub Dane and just go dancing with the webhead. He's a goof. Confident though, to dance like a fool like that in front of all those people." Then she is back to the name thing again, "But the scarf gag would be a simple one to carry around with you if you were only going to do things in emergencies right? Because, Spider Man, he's got to be carrying a full bodysuit around…and how do you change into that on the go? So he probably wears it 24/7"

"It was a thing," Dajan explains. "He cuts up like that on purpose. Half an hour earlier, half those people were hostages, with guns pointed at 'em. An' sky tazers floatin' overhead. An' us bein' violent to make 'em stop doin' that. He did it so people would relax. Real clever, you ask me."
"If I walk around with a scar on, people are just gonna be like, 'Ninja girl added a scarf'. I just know it." She considers the Spider-Man question. "Maybe he's Spider-Man all the time. Maybe he's independently wealthy or some crazy thing like that, and he doesn't have to be a regular person 'less he feels like it?" Her hands go up in the classic international indication of 'I dunno.'
"Well, cutting up like that seemed to have made them relax." She grins and gives a shrug, "I guess I should start practicing my dancing and acting like a fool. My mother never included that on the list of skills I needed for proper heroing." She pulls the blanket down and returns it to the bed, which she promptly starts tidying…okay, meticulously making. "Well, lots of heroes have to be fabulously wealthy right? If they got gadgets, they are probably billionaires. You can't whip up super tech without some kind of lab or manufacturing support. The scarf on its own wouldn't work if you heroed regularly, but you aren't talking about and going out heroing every night like me or Nickie do. Right?"
Dajan grins. "I'm not sure it's a skill every hero practices, to be honest," Dajan admits, realizing her own cup of cocoa has gone cold. She sticks it in the microwave again to heat it back up. "Oh, no. No, I don't have near enough firepower to try doin what y'all do. I mean, hearin' things, an' makin' claws, an' growin' an extra set of arms — which makes me killer hungry, by the way — naw. Not thinkin' this is somethin' I wanna pursue on the reg'lar, Harley. Family used to call me Hustle on account of how I ran around gettin' all the bebes ready in the mornin' an' myself an' Maman and Dad."
"Hustle? Oh…that is a damned good name too. Though…you'd need to be fast or something for that I think. And you'd get Hustler comments probably. But still, I like it. It would leave you wide open for costume ideas too. Nothing specific you'd need to work in." She shrugs her shoulders at her friend and says, "I don't have any firepower. I stretch. That's it. Well, I can take a punch really well because of how stretchy I am. But I aint bullet proof or anything, and I hit as hard as the next girl who knows martial arts."

"Well, it'll do until somethin' else comes to mind," Dajan allows. "Guess I'mma take to carryin' a scrunchie and a mask o' some kind now. Just in case, since this craziness seems determined to follow me around." She nods at Harley. "I ain't neither bulletproof, which is all the reason to not be doin' this unless I see a way to be helpful. A person could get killed!"

"Hustle. Awesome. You like baseball? Charlie Hustle. My Dad loved that guy." Then she shifts gears, "Well, Spider Man isn't bulletproof. Or Daredevil. Or Captain America, though he has that shield. Mockingbird, Hawkeye…there are all kinds of big heroes that aren't bulletproof. But anyhow, you need to come down and work out with me before I can give you my stamp of approval as a hero." She laughs a bit, then says, "Even though you are already hob knobbing with the big timers and I'm still a nobody fighting hoods in the hood. Maybe I should invite you down so you can see if /I'm/ good enough to be a hero."
Dajan reaches out to hug Harley. "I don't know how my dumb luck keeps gettin' me in these situations, honest. But I promise. I'll come down to the gym, because honestly, while the 'run around the diner like a chicken with no head' workout is great for my ass, I do need to learn how to fight properly. I only got what little accomplished today by bein' in the right place at the right time, an' bein' sneaky. I'm sure with /two/ different hero names, you still way better than me if I tried to be a hero."
Harley hugs Dajan back firmly, then slips out of the blanket. She pulls her 'mask' back up over her head. "Well, I would love to practice with you. If you are better than me, that's not a problem. I hope you are really. That way I have to worry about you less right?" She grins and gives Dajan a peck on the cheek, "I /do/ know how to fight though. So, it'd be cool if I could help you that way…though I wish I had the cash to help you get out of this place a little quicker. I mean…it isn't bad really. There are a lot worse places in New York."
Dajan grins. "Thanks for lookn' out an' checkin' in on me, Harley," she says quietly. "Honestly? This is the first time in my life I ever had a room to myself." Six sibs, yeah. "So I don't mind so much. I'm havin' to do a lil bit more growin' up a lil' bit faster than I might've. But it's not borin',right?" She goes back to the window and has a quick look in the alley to make sure no neighbors are in a snoopy mood before she opens it to let Harley back out. "And you be careful, even if you are all stretchy."

And with that, Cattail slips outside into the cold. With a crack of a stretchy whip she is quickly on a rooftop and moving into the night.

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