shatterverse | The bridge of the Aerie One

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The bridge of the Aerie One

Sparrow doesn't like this plane. It's too big and too comfy and not at all what Heroes like Dick says Barbara is should be flying in. Also, she doesn't really like the fact that she slept here, and not on her own plane. Sure, the sofas are more comfy then in her cape on the floor, but her cape and costume are on the other plane and she feels undressed.

BUT. These computers she's found are awesome. So because no one's told her what she is and isn't allowed to touch, she's having a nosy.

And she still hasn't taken her shades off.

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"Which is why I didn't bother trying to tell you," Barbara grins. "But now you know, and I've got to wonder: do you trust me more or less now?"

It's a tough question.

"That," Sparrow says, waving at the Oracle face again, "I trust less. You," the woman in front of her "I respect more."

"Hey," Barbara says easily, "You know all about secret identities. Mine's just a better-kept secret than anyone else's."

"Not on my world," Sparrow repeats, because her world is the only real one anyway.

"Nothing you people have ever done me and Claw haven't cracked into."

"That you've found, at least," Barbara suggests, perhaps a bit smugly.

"Yeeeeah no," Sparrow says, firmly. "We're not that sloppy."

"Well, you certainly don't have a problem with confidence," Barbara says, voice ever so slightly hard. "It's arrogance like that which tends to get you into trouble when it comes to information warfare."

The last part of Sparrow's smile goes away.

"Look," she says, "I don't care that on your world you're this hot shot computer wiz and Bruce Wayne's doing Dark Claw's work for some reason or other. On mine you're just another S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who thinks shooting people solves everything."

Babs twitches, forces herself to sit still for a silent count to three, and leans forward dangerously. "Whoever you have this problem with? I'm. Not. Her." Her tone has dropped several degrees.

Of course Sparrow hangs out with Dark Claw, a cold tone probably doesn't mean much.

...

"You know who my partner is and you still think that tone's going to have an effect on me?"

Barbara actually laughs at that. "Got your attention, at least."

She leans back in her chair again, "How about this? You tell me what your problem with me is, and we'll see if we can work through it." It's a good thing Babs is used to controlling her tone, otherwise Sparrow might pick up on the fact that the redhead is pretty sure the problem is all the kid's. And that Oracle thinks she's a kid.

Well, Oracle's pretty smart then, because Sparrow is a kid.

Her eyes slip slightly to the couch on which Dick spent the night.

"I don't have a problem with you."

She really really does.

"Uh. Huh." Barbara clearly Does Not Believe her.

Sparrow glares. Then gives up glaring.

"Well, I don't," she mutters, and this time it's because she's not going to apologise.

"If you say so," Barbara makes it clear what she thinks about that claim.

"So. I take it you didn't find the cave?" Babs is willing to let Sparrow avoid the topic for now.

Sparrow's slight twitch indicates that she's still Not Happy with Barbara knowing about things like the cave.

"It was never there."

"I'm... not sure whether I think that's actually a bad thing. The world in this condition with the cave and all it entails in place would be even more worrying, somehow."

Sparrow's anger melts away as she takes this on board.

Eventually, reluctantly, "he wouldn't let it."

"No," Barbara agrees. "He wouldn't." That much, at least, is the same between their worlds.

Sparrow's so hit by the point she doesn't bother to say they're not the same person.

"Guess 'til he shows up I'm gonna stay mobile."

Do the work he'd do.

"You'll need a support base," Babs points out. "The cave was one of his most important tools, after all."

"Most important tool was his brain," Sparrow objects.

(Well, actually, it was his superhealing ability and adamantium claws, but that's just what makes him better than Bruce Wayne)

"Only help he needed was me."

"You know better than that," Barbara says quietly. "The money mattered."

"It doesn't here."

"The money doesn't," Barbara agrees, "But the equipment does." She cocks her head, "How are you going to keep your jet fueled?"

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