2013.06.07 - Masks

Dawn is just breaking over the horizon and Batgirl is only just making it home. But that's not too surprising. If this counts as 'work', then she's a workaholic. From the moment the sun goes down until it rises again, she's out on Gotham's streets. No days off. If she hadn't been basically told to stick to hours of darkness, she might be out there even now. Instead she spends most of her daylight hours either asleep or training. Always training.

There is the soft whisper of bat wings as the darkly clad girl comes to an easy perch on the window left open for her and then she hops down, pulling her cowl off. Her dark hair is something of a mess and it can't be blamed entirely on the hood. It's gotten long and shaggy and she pushes it back with absent annoyance as the dark mask is tossed over to the side as she pads silently deeper into Oracle's lair.

Barbara actually caught a couple of hours of shut-eye before this. She does have to keep semi-regular hours. And, Batgirl doesn't always need her looking over her shoulder. (Though, sometimes, Babs thinks that's debatable. Nonetheless, she does try to give the kid some leeway.) However, she likes to be around when the kid arrives home, and so tends to rise at least a little before dawn, so she can return to the ops center to greet her.

Thus, as Batgirl eases through the window and pulls off her mask, the lift door beyond Barbara's old Batgirl suit whooshes softly open and the redhead wheels out. She sees Cass raking at her hair and smiles. "Hey," she greets. "Good hunting?" Hmm. Looks like it's time to send the kid out for a haircut, too. That's always a fun time...

The small, slight girl looks over as Barbara appears and gives her a small smile. It's more in her eyes than the curve of her mouth but it comes easily enough. Despite the shadows that lurk in her eyes and that haunt her dreams and the roadmap of scars on her body those smiles still come without reservation. "Hi. Yes." For Barbara, the girl who still clings to the redheads previous moniker of 'Batgirl' as her name despite having been given a more normal one, tries to talk. Her vocabulary is small, the words soft and carefully worded and a bit scratchy from a lifetime of disuse, but it's something. It seems to take more effort for Cassandra to say those two words than to put down a whole room full of thugs.

It's something Babs is accustomed to with her, however. And she appreciates the effort, certainly. "I see you're in one piece, at least," she smiles, her green eyes dancing. It's really a foregone conclusion. She'd be far more surprised if Cassandra weren't in one piece. "Anyone out there give you too much trouble, tonight?" She doubts it.

She adjusts her trajectory and rolls toward the mini-kitchen alongside the lounge. "Coffee? I was just going to put on a pot."

Batgirl gives a shake of her head in reply to the question. She's mostly sent to deal with the garden-variety of thug, instead of the costumed sort that are prone to diabolical plans and need real detective work to track down.

The second question gets a small bob of her head along with the hopeful, "Food?" It's like she's a never-ending stomach. It's hard to peg her age, the years she went hungry no helping with that. She could be anywhere from her early to late teens. Only Cain likely knows for sure.

Having either exhausted her vocabulary or her quota of talking for the day, she swaps over to signing. 'You're OK? You look tired.'

Babs smiles in reply, pulling out two mugs. "I think we can find you something." She usually keeps quick-foods in the fridge that can be nuked or toasted fairly quickly in the morning -- simply so that the girl can grab a snack after 'work'. "What are you in the mood for? I think there's some frozen waffles and cooked bacon up here, still." The waffles will toast in the time it takes to nuke the bacon.

She glances over her shoulder and sees the signing. Her smile turns a little lopsided. "Yeah, I'm find," she says. "I am tired. I just got up and I was up a little later than usual last night. Someone tried to rob Jon's convenience, but there were a couple of other hero-types that showed up to intervene. So, he's fine." Mr. Jon is a small Korean man Oracle sometimes uses as an informant. He buzzed her line for help, instead of the cops.

"Yes." Cassandra says to the food suggestion. Really, she'll eat just about anything without complaint. She takes a seat at the table, folding herself in with feet on the seat and knees pulled close to her body as she signs. 'You should sleep more.' The news of Mr. Jon gets a concerned frown, and then a bob of her head, satisfied if Barbara says that he's fine.

Babs pulls out the eggos and pops four of them into the toaster. She then grabs the bacon and preps it for the microwave. "Maybe," she says

Babs pulls out the eggos and pops four of them into the toaster. She then grabs the bacon and preps it for the microwave. "Maybe," she says with an easy shrug. She suppresses a yawn, and grins. "Probably. But, I'll nap later." Yeah, yeah. She always says that. Rarely happens. Regardless, she chuckles. "You should get out in the sun more." Her usual complaint. "Why don't you take some time, today, and get yourself a hair cut. I'll even drive you, if you want." In the big gimp van.

Batgirl looks up at her hair, since her bangs have fallen into her face again, reaching up to pull them down lower, eyes almost crossing as she looks at them. Then she looks past them to Babs and signs. 'Don't you have scissors?' The idea of driving somewhere to do a simple job seems a bit baffling to her.

Babs laughs at that. "Yeah. And bowl. But, you don't want me cutting your hair." A beat. "And I don't want you cutting your own hair." Because... wow, that's very likely a recipe for disaster. Oh, and God help anyone that suggests the girl just shave all her hair off. (Wouldn't that be easier under the cowl?)

"If it makes you feel better, I could call Toni and have her make a house call. She owes me a favour or two." In this case, it's actually Barbara she owes, and not Oracle. So, their secret identities are safe enough. "I'll bring her to the apartment." There's an advantage, sometimes, to the wheelchair. People are often more willing to come to her, instead of making her come to them.

She watches the girl for her reaction, as the microwave dings and the toaster pops.

Batgirl tilts her head over a bit, almost bird-like. Probably because she's thin and still has that cape on. 'I've always cut my own hair.' Yeah. And that would be why it's something of a ragged mess. The suggestion gets a hitch of one shoulder in a shrug, accepting the suggestion even if she doesn't see the difference. 'Who is...' And there her signing fails her, since she doesn't have a name-sign for the stranger. "Tuh--Tah..." She scowls a bit. "Tow-nee."

Barbara pulls the waffles out and puts them on a plate, adding a small pat of butter and placing the bacon along side. She rummages around until she finds some adequate syrup and drizzles a little of that on, before grabbing utensils and setting the whole lot on her lap so she can wheel over to the girl. The scent of coffee is only just beginning to fill the air as the pot perks.

"Toni's a hairdresser," she says. "I met her shortly after my accident, when I was still in the hospital. She cuts hair and provides other aesthetic services to long-term care patients. She's nice. And knows better than to push with too many questions when you don't want to talk."

'And I tend to make people uncomfortable when I don't talk.' Cassandra acknowledges, her attention having long since moved over to the food though. She sits up a bit straighter and her legs unfold so she's sitting more 'properly'. 'If you want her to cut my hair, that's fine.' Of course, she might agree to just about anything as long as she gets breakfast.

It's amazing what people will accept when they're hungry. One day, Babs might have to take the girl some place really nice to eat. Just so that she can learn to appreciate the difference. But, today's certainly not that day.

She passes off the plate to her and reverses her chair to go back and prep her own meal. By the time its ready, the coffee likely will be, too.

"Good, she says in answer to the statement. I promise, if she gets too chatty, I'll keep her occupied. So, you'll just have to sit there." She chuckles dryly. "If there's a particularly style you want," (the very thought the girl actually remotely cares about that is what makes her laugh,) "let me know ahead of time. Otherwise, I'll just tell her to give you something short that suits your face."

'Short is good.' Cassandra manages to sign before she starts to tuck into her meal. She does tilt her gaze up to Barbara, which is really the best way to know if Cassandra is 'listening'. She's starting to recognize some words, but for the most part they're still noise to her. She eats with a fierce gusto (and lack of table manners) that might have Barbara wanting to put off that nice place to eat for a bit. Maybe a long bit. While she's chewing, Cassandra signs, 'Are you going to have her cut your hair too?'

Barbara glances up to her own cascade of bangs. "I could," she replies, "if it'll make you more comfortable." No. She definitely won't be taking her out to Hemispheres any time soon. Nor offering Toni much beyond coffee, she suspects. Just so they're spared having to explain that.

She pours out two cups of coffee now and them on a tray alongside her plate. Putting the tray in her lap is an easier way for her to move multiple dishes. So, she wheels back over to Cass to give her one of the mugs. "How are you for utility belt gadgets? Do I need to bring anything special in?"

Batgirl wraps her hands around the mug eagerly, giving Barbara a nod of thanks. She sits holding the cup for a long moment, just letting the heat soak into her hands even though it's not particularly cold out. It's moving into summer, after all. The question about her belt gets an easy shake of her head. She doesn't use the gadgets and gizmos a'plenty that some of the other Bats do. She tends towards brute application of fists. With some reluctance she puts down the mug to sign. 'I went to the...' and here she has to pause. 'place with lots of animals in cages? Yesterday.'

"Zoo." Barbara supplies the word easily. Her head cants. "You did?" A smile touches her lips. "Before or after it was closed?" I.e. During the day or at night. "What did you see?"

She spends a couple of moments cutting up her waffle, glancing to the girl in case of signing as she does. Her cup, she sets on a table beside her, since that's a whole lot safer when she's jiggling the tray with the force required to cut the toasted waffle.

"Day." Cassandra manages to say, without too much trouble. The question has her hmming thoughtfully. 'Orange. Stripes.' She's learned signs for a lot of words, but she runs into those that don't have a lot of practical application and so weren't needed. 'Big cat.'

"Tiger," Barbara again supplies the word, adding an ASL sign for it, to help her. "They're beautiful animals." She smiles again. "I'm glad to hear you went out." And a little surprised, but that doesn't particularly show, other than through a small rise in her brows. "Did you enjoy it?"

Batgirl quirks one brow in reply to that surprise, smirking a bit. Because yeah, Cass reads people that well. It's hard to hide things from her. 'You told me to get more sun.' She does *try*, even if it seems a bit silly to her. She could be helping people instead of standing outside. Cassandra's head tilts back-and-forth a bit in an undecided manner. 'They were interesting. But they made me sad.'

"Mm." Barbara can't help but empathize with that. "Yeah, I can see how they might. I always feel the same way -- that it's a shame to see such beautiful, powerful animals cooped up in a cage." And she suspects that resonates with Cassandra in more ways than one. Of course, Barbara also feels it's good for Cassandra to go out during the day so she can get a sense of who she's protecting, that there's more to humanity than just the thugs she regularly takes down.

There's the sense, by the way Cassandra pushes some of her food around on her plate that there might be more, but it also doesn't look like she's inclined to actually talk about it. 'Lots of people.' She signs then, setting the fork aside. 'Looking. Watching. But... in such a hurry.'

Barbara, detective that she is, is usually fairly good at figuring out what's going on in the girl's head. She's also usually fairly circumspect about how she pushes the girl, and in what direction. But, that doesn't mean she'll stop encouraging her to branch out a little more. She gives a slow nod. "Unfortunately, that's kind of the pace of society in general, these days. A lot of people have forgotten how to stop and smell the roses." Herself included, often enough. But her head cants, nonetheless. "What are you thinking?" she asks now.

Batgirl gives Barbara a slight frown. As if to chastise her for asking. Like Cassandra herself doesn't pick up on things that others don't really want people to notice. With some reluctance to her movements, she says 'Some people... don't want to be seen.' She understands sneaking around, and avoiding the notice of urban predators, but this was different.

Barbara sets her tray aside and leans back a little, canting her head as she looks at Cassandra. "What do you mean?" she asks in response. It's an interesting idea, and her quick mind is already piecing together potential meanings. But, she knows the girl's background gives her a unique perspective on things. So, it's always interesting to hear her express her own thoughts.

Batgirl hitches one shoulder upwards in a small shrug. 'People. That... Don't want to be seen. All the time. By anyone.' She turns those dark eyes over to Barbara, the cant of her head curious. 'Why?'

Barbara isn't afraid to be honest with the girl. She's learned it's usually the best course with Cassandra, who has so little use for subtlety, despite her great facility at perceiving it. "I'm just curious. You see things differently than most people, Cassandra. You know that, right? I always find your take on things interesting. You often give me insights I wouldn't otherwise immediately consider."

She purses her lips now, glancing upward for a moment or two as she thinks. "Most people wears masks of some kind or another. But, they're not always physical. In fact, usually, they're not. People don't like feeling vulnerable. They think the masks -- their pretences -- make them safe. It's an illusion, usually, but that's how it is, sometimes. So, effectively, they hide in plain sight. At least, that's how I'd interpret it. So... what do you think?"

Batgirl frowns, looking down into her coffee thoughtfully. She's quiet a long time as she mulls Barbara's question over. Given she seems to think in *such* a different way, without the words most are used to, it would probably be fascinating to see. Her signing, for a change, is slow. Halting in places. 'People like to hide who they really are around strangers. But they don't hide around friends. Normally. They still want to be seen, they just want people to see the mask. But what if someone doesn't want to be seen? They want even the mask to go unnoticed?'

Barbara's head cants as she considers that. "Tough question," she admits. "What do you see? Do you see that a lot? I've never really considered it." But, then, she can exist easily in normal society, which means she's adept at wearing her own masks. After all, who'd suspect that a wheelchair bound former-librarian is actually the world's most foremost cyber-hacker and info-broker-to-heroes? "I don't know... I think that type of person might worry me."

Batgirl shakes her head quietly. 'Not a lot. First time.' She admits. Obviously this struck her as unusual as well. 'Why worry?' Cassandra has perhaps an underdeveloped self-preservation skill. It makes her great at her 'job', but lacking in some healthy paranoia.

"Who did you see doing that?" Barbara wonders, now. She picks up her coffee and sips it for a moment, as she considers how to explain why she'd worry. "I'd worry because, in my experience, there are two sorts of people that would want to hide so well that even the mask can't be seen: People who have been so badly hurt they just want to fade into the background and not be seen in order to protect themselves, and people who are planning to do horrible things to other people and want it to be a surprise. The first type of people usually need help and often need protection. The second, however, need to be stopped before they hurt someone."

She shrugs now. "Of course, I expect there are exceptions, but I have yet to meet any."

Cassandra sips at her coffee, dark eyes distant and thoughtful. 'I think...' She signs slowly, 'The first.' She does not however, answer Barbara's question. Maybe because she can't really answer. Or maybe because she's not quite willing to tell. Obviously this conversation has gotten her thinking about a lot. She doesn't usually have that furrow in her brow. In a way, her world is simple. Empty. It's all about the zen of the fight.

Barbara nods slowly to Cassandra's slow contemplation. She knows this is outside of the girl's usual thought processes -- or, at least, she imagines it is. But, she also considers it a necessary part of growth for her, as well. (Everyone has to get into philosophy at some point... which this kind of borders on.)

"What happened?" she asks now, taking another sip of her coffee. "Did you meet someone, or just happen to observe them?"

Batgirl's movements show a certain reluctance. 'We talked. It's alright.' It's not like many people 'talk' with Cassandra. And her 'speech impediment' is only one of the reasons why.

That, in and of itself, is surprising. "Really?" She talked to someone? Wow... Barbara's both surprised and impressed at that. Still, she can read the reluctance there. "Well... Good," she says finally. She smiles. "I won't push, if you don't want to talk about it. But, if I can help at all, let me know."

Batgirl bobs her head in a short nod, no reluctance or hesitation in that. 'They want to keep being... unseen.' She flashes Oracle a quick grin and points out, 'You see too much.' So many of the people around Oracle and, so by extension Batgirl have masks. Some don't mind taking them off, and others cling to them. While Cassandra doesn't seem to care too much about her own, she also shows little interest in finding out who is beneath others. For one reason or another, they're trusted. Be it because Bruce or Barbara trusts them, or Cassandra's own instinct. And so face and names, what do they matter most of the time?

To Barbara, faces and names matter as much as the masks, because the masks bespeak the motivations possessed by the ones that wear them. That said, she does have to laugh at Cassandra's grin. "Touché. Alright. I'll keep my nose out of it." A beat. A lopsided grin. "At least, I'll try."

Cassandra grins, a sort of silent laughter that lights up her dark eyes and nods in agreement. It isn't easy for Barbara to *not* know things! The little bat doesn't push to keep her out of things, content that she won't push Cassandra herself to tell. It's really as close as they can get. Cassandra won't try to make Barbara compromise her work.

Finished eating, she takes her dishes over to the sink (boy did it take a while for Babs to train her to do *that*. Her clothes still tend to lie strewn about) and then gestures with a thumb towards her room. 'I'm going to sleep.' She points at Oracle. 'You should too.'

Barbara gives a soft chuckle, and inhales a deep breath to stifle a yawn. "Okay," she concedes. "I will." She rolls her own dishes over to the sink and turns on the hot water tap to fill both plates, leaving them to soak. Then, she starts heading back to the lift. A nap wouldn't hurt. She smiles at the girl. "Have a good sleep, Cass. I'll see you later."