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Leah is in a good mood today. It's warm out, and she's had a successful raiding in local flats. And now, she's ready to talk to people again. Oracle mentioned that there might be other people manning her line,which is fine by Leah, she's only after a chat, anyway.

"All right, anyone there?"

[OOC: open to pretty much anyone with SW radio access, who knows Babs and might be asked to man a channel to the Innovator, or anyone else with a way to talk to her. No rescuing, please.]

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"Hey,you make that sound like a bad thing," Leah objects. "I'd kill for some company over here."

"I'll trade you?"

She wasn't kidding.

Well. Maybe.

Or maybe not.

Stupid tea party.

"Deal," Leah says firmly.

"So who are these people and why do you hate them so much?"

Jo frowned at the floor and its colorful scrawl.

"The furthest and closest thing to family."

You only hate the ones you love. Who had said that?

Leah grins after a moment.

"Oh," she says. "Those guys."

"I can lend you a few if I find a one way teleporter in all this crap. Just beat about the head and swear loudly and they might even do what they're told"

"I can do more than that," Leah assures her. "Well experienced in handling people who don't do what they're told."

"I'm going to like you."

Jo's tone was amused as she stretched her legs back out and resettled herself.

"Good to know," Leah admits. "Everyone does, unless I shoot them. Then it's understandable."

Jo snorted.

"How often is that?"

"Not as often as it used to be."

Her aim's gone down the shitter since she lost her sight. Funny, that.

"Come here once you're found then. I have people you can shoot at to make up for it."

Leah laughs, again.

"Man," she says. "I like you. Are you hot?"

"Damn straight I am."

Cocky and completely sure.

"Blonde, right?"

If there's a blondeness-competency correlation on this world, Leah wants in on it.

"Of course."

Jo smirked at the radio, at least silently grateful for the reprieve of her day boredom turned into a new light.

"What colour are your eyes?"

Leah is well aware that it's a creepy question to ask. But her tone is just curious.

Jo gave a strangled noise, as though she'd been shot, a hand even going to her chest, before she answered in a laughing tone.

"Brown. Yours?"

"They were brown."

Leah's tone doesn't lose any of its joviality. You'd have to be quick to catch the tense.

She does, which isn't surprising since she spent her childhood knowing when to leave a silence alone and how to catch the most important word a man might say in an evening over his beer, but she only looked at the radio oddly.

It was such an oblique out of nowhere word, which could mean anything in the multiverse.

She'd never established the Innovator was even human.

"You didn't go surgical for blue did you? I always found the blonde hair blue eyed thing got dull after the first half dozen Barbie models."

"Ha, no," Leah laughs back. "I never liked that look either."

"Crazy back world fascinations."

"It's like in books," Leah adds. "Every blonde chick has to have blue eyes. Every ginger bird, green. Like people never actually look at real people."

"In my experience, they don't."

Jo said, with a very small, almost frown.

Needless to say she didn't exact wager to add that was saving that naive, stupid type of person from darkness so they could go on living stupidly as such.

But she was thinking.

"True," Leah agrees. "I know a lot of people whose secret identity would be at risk if they did."