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"Sure, darling. How about we go back in time and have a do-over, but I hog-tie your ankles together before the elevator breaks from your shenanigans?" Perhaps it was in the cards that their fair elevator should go bust on this day, but if eye-rolls had audio, he could probably hear this one loud and clear behind her palm.

Sighing, that hand drops from River's face like a stone, her eyes roving the door and four metal walls making-up this impromptu prison cell with a practiced gaze. There's a way out of course, there always is, but the occasion's not exactly one she's 'dressed' for and present company's quite the anomaly himself. Is he going to squeal on her, if she goes about things a little... Un-civiliany?

Her gaze fixes on the camera stuck in the corner above Eddie's head.

"...What do you say? Do you think that thing up there's working?"

The jolt of the elevator throws her off balance, a sudden stop that draws soft curses under-breath as a groaning whine of metal upon metal reverberates around the enclosed box. Like lightning, River is on the stuck-shut doors once it comes to a screeching halt, knuckles rapping against them solidly in an almost jaunty rhythm. Yup. By the sound of that echo, it wouldn't matter if they managed to pry these puppies open, they were definitely stuck between floors. Something completely useless to the pair, unless they wanted a nice window into the void.

She hopes whatever doodads and thingamajigs this chick nabbed up there were worth all of this.

"Damn! Looks like they managed to make it to the power, after all... That was pretty fast, Gordon must finally be having his lads and ladies run more for once."

Was that a hint of appreciation in her voice? Sure sounds like it. People in such predicaments didn't tend to lean against walls all devil-may-care, but there she was, the ghost of a toothy grin threatening to split her face in two. Yet what can River say, the 'challenges' put forth by the costumed justice-schmucks were starting to grow a bit stale nowadays; it was about time the cops tried to take it up a notch for once.

"Well... Let's look on the bright-side, dear! I suppose things could be scores more worse than this."

The 'bright'-side, eh? Famous last words, before that little light above suddenly dies; and darkness swallows them both within its dense, indiscriminate embrace.

(This was answered HERE and HERE but like I said, I love food! It's one of the things my muse and I share, haha.

Another desert I like is this cake from Wolf's Bakery, it's a lemon fluff cake that's just to DIE for. Seriously, all I ever want for my birthday every year is one of the larger lemon cakes from them tbh, and this is coming from someone who doesn't even like cake at all. But these cakes don't have that awful heavy frosting that a lot of them tend to have, and the cake itself isn't so thick that it sticks to your mouth or sits in your stomach; it's just perfect in my eyes!)

"There-!"

Lightning splits the sky. A crawling crackle of ivory across ash-gray that heralds rolling thunder, and illuminates her arm outstretched to the spot it singles-out: a space between two gargoyles, just underneath a penthouse condo. In hindsight, this was a terribly stupid thing to do without the mask or any support tools; but it's not like the Weather Channel called for anything of this magnitude today.

Good old Gotham weather, at its finest.

Somehow, the Harpy's able to navigate the blustery gusts, and River could almost kiss the sodden concrete once those feet of hers touch home. But the sting in an eye draws both hand and attention, at least, until soft sound and sudden lack of rain-strike encourages a peep. Senja. Sandwiched-in next to her and with wings unfurled in all of their feathered glory, it's far better shelter than the drip-dropping eaves of the condo above, though. You're an angel. You're a saint.

But while vastly appreciated, it comes a bit too little too late, as River's hand pulls-back bearing thick streaks of chalky paste. A palm-shaped 'border' is left in its wake, grubby and smeared just enough to tease hidden freckles and scarring underneath. River stares upon the mess and sighs.

"Well, guess you can slap a little check against 'can I carry someone in bad weather'! But at least the view's still nice up here, huh Ruffles?"

There's some merit to that statement; To the shifting neon above and below, laying pretty rainbows all across the dewed-flecked blues and whites of Senja's wings... While they probably look like two soggy cats who suffered a terrible tumble into a tub.

"Aren't your wings going to get tired, shielding whatever's left of our dignity like that?"

Dagny Headcanon: Career Day

Dagny has Career Day at the school that she attends, but River has never gone to one of them, due to a job always seeming to pop-up which either runs into or through that particular day. However, the students and teachers rarely question why her mother never comes to this event, because Dagny tells them that she's really busy in the 'disposal' business.

They all think River works in garbage disposal.

They're not totally wrong of course, but they're also totally wrong.

"Hm... Well, if I happened to be in the middle of a job at the time, I'd probably feel less inclined towards helping, even if they did seem interesting. The only thing that'd turn my little head around at that point would be if I knew the person, or if it was a child."

Outside of extremely rigorous training, children had far less capacity to defend themselves, if any at all. Most adults did: whether through brawn, brains, or both, there was always some sort of 'chance' that an escape or victory could be clawed-away from another attacking them; and if they didn't? Then they were simply too weak, and life and the natural order of things judged it to be so. No more, no less.

"The absolute worst thing you could come to me with, would probably be a burn."

"Granted, dear, I could clean and wrap it for you until you go somewhere better; but none of my hideouts are 'sterile' enough for such things. You're apt to get an infection before you leave, instead of a sticker!"

"Gender roles?"

That's an odd thing to ask her, and as much of it shows on her face in the form of a scrunched brow and raised eyebrow. River almost scoffs though, once the surprise had gone and worn itself out, in truth she found the whole question kind-of funny. What would her inquisitive interviewer think, if she so-casually mentioned that she'd lived in a house where 'gender roles' were flipped upside-down upon their head?

Oh yes, her 'dearest' grandmother would've loved this question, indeed.

"Can't say I think about them much... Just look at me, you could say I toe a little on both sides! I mean, I dress and love dressing feminine; but my form is anything but soft. I like children, but can't cook to save my life." Crossing her legs, River shrugs.

"I enjoy alllll the sweet and sappy, romantic things; but use science to turn delicate flowers and plants, into the most terrible and deadly things. A happy in-between!"

"Of course, everyone should always do what's 'them'. So if both parties want to do all of that traditional stuff, more power to them! But don't get all ruffled under the collar, if you tell me to 'get in my place' and I laugh your ass out of the room."