Metaphor

October 02, 2015:

Green Lantern visits Hawkgirl aboard the Watchtower

Watchtower Station

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

Shayera spent most of her time on the watchtower, prepping herself and her Valmorra for a trip back home. It wasn't going to be a good trip; she planned on never returning and possibly leaving Superman behind while she goes at it alone. But of course, that probably wouldn't do. Once the word gets around that she was going to leave and do battle with her own people, others might want to join the fray. As much as she hated to admit it? They were family.

And she really, really hated to admit that.

She remained upon one of the docking bays upon the Watchtower, settled into her ship which was wide open for the taking (or not), doors ajar as she remains settled into the seat, her bare feet pressing against the console, a book in an unknown language upon her lap as she carefully thumbs through it at a slow read.

Hal Jordan isn't nearly as attached to his teammates as a whole, but, then, well, he was the kind of guy who probably didn't always return the phone calls of his actual family. I mean, he usually did and he always meant to, but sometimes it slipped his mind and, hey, he was busy, y'know? Which isn't to say that he wouldn't be on board to help Shay deal with her whole crazy planet full of hate deal. Because he absolutely would. He was also a military guy - he understood duty all too well.

He lands on the docking bay, his body sheathed in raw green energy, "Permission to land and all that stuff. I mean, I already did land, so it's kind of a moot point, but it seems polite to ask. I'd feel bad for interrupting you, but that book looks really, really boring."

Shayera looks up over the edge of the book as she notices the flash of green. It was hard to not notice it, he glows like a gosh darn beacon in the darkest of.. ew. Nights. The green light meant go to him, which was highly ironic, it almost seems as if Shayera never sees him since he always is.. well, on the go. "You do realize that politeness is usually lost on me." Shayera points out, turning a bit in the captains chair with a push of her bare feet to snap the book shut and toss towards his way. Lightly, of course. She didn't want to damage it.

"You weren't interrupting me. I've read it before." She points out. "My homeworld had their own authors that were famous across our planet. This is one of the lesser knowns, forgotten mostly due to… well, the lack of eroticism and battle."

Hal Jordan snaps off his force field once he's properly ensconced within the warm embrace of artificial atmosphere. He swaggers up with his usual aplomb, his head cocked slightly, "Manners reflect on the character of the one being polite, not the recipient. Anyway, someone's got to be nice to you. It sets a good example," he says.

He leans up against her chair, peeking over her shoulder, "No eroticism or battle? Did Superman write it?"

"You? Polite?" Shayera chuckles at that one, then offers a little shrug of her shoulders. "Honestly, I never pegged you to be polite. A horndog, as your people call them, possibly a pervert, but never polite." She shakes her head a touch, then tosses the book upon the console, drawing her feet down to plant flatly upon the ground. "You could say that."

"There are people on my world that he could possibly get along with better than he does his own people." She gestures towards the glow of the earth. "They uphold the same values as he, and are generally… stiff."

Hal Jordan grins, "They're not mutually exclusive. I can be a polite, perverted horndog. I think that might actually be my Tinder profile, if I ever used that sort of thing. Sure, I may be entirely inappropriate, but I'm generally pretty nice about it, unless you're an asshole," he says.

He shrugs, "Superman's not bad, he's just…I dunno, I'm sure he was cool wherever he grew up, but he's like the kid that gets elected class president just 'cause he's smart and good at the job. He's not -really- popular, but everyone just nods and accepts that he's probably the beste guy for the job and he's pretty nice.. Nobody dislikes him or anything, btu you can't imagine what it's like to be his best friend," he says. "It's also possible I think too much about things while I'm floating in space."

"Tinder.. profile?" Shayera was confused. "I did not know you could make profiles of yourself on a piece of wood to be burned." She slowly pushes the seat backwards, possibly dislodging him from place as she draws herself to a stand. "Superman is superman. And yes. You do."

"I wouldn't dare think about the possible friendship of others especially when we both know how fleeting it could be. There could be a chance that we dash into where ever and never return again. Benefits and disadvantages."

Hal Jordan consider, "Well, the disadvantages would largely be for our friends, since we'd be dead, so, really, I think it's up to them to decide whether or not that's something they want to take on. Do I want to lose someone else I care about? No, I had enough of that when I lost my dad…" he says, then pauses for a moment. He doesn't talka bout his personal self, the man behind the ring, very often, at least not around the League.

"At some point, you're just punishing yourself for things that might've been. Or living in fear. No way to live and you don't strike me as the type who's afraid of much anyway. You're more the 'make other people pee themselves in panic' type."

"Never said we'd be dead." Shayera points out. "But we both know how our duties could pull us away for a certain length of time." She looks out towards the stars, then gestures Hal out of her ship so that she could closer her up. "Time moves differently out here. But I'm sure I don't need to explain that to a space cop."

She chuckles softly. "I would like to say that yes, that I strike fear in people. But there are times when people strike fear in me, the key is to not let it show."

Hal Jordan smiles, "Well, don't get too scared, Hawkster, I got yer back and I ain't scared of nobody or nothin'," he says in a playful tough-guy drawl. He even throws a few shadowboxing punches and sniffs a little bit before he straightens up. "But yeah, sometimes things get a bit crazy when you're off-world. Easy to forget about Burger Kings and daytime talk shows and the troubles of everyday life. You spend a lot of time flying, you forget what it's like to have your feet on the ground. Or something. I'm not great at metaphors."

Shayera gives Hal a long look. It wasn't that she thought he was stupid, but.. he made a point. And he agreed with her. But even still, the look was something more profound which turns into a rare, gentle grin, her hand stretched out to reach up and clasp upon his shoulder, not too hard, but not soft either.

"Your metaphors are good enough for me." Shayera says with a sense of calm. Maybe.. just maybe.. he'll be right there along with her and Superman.. once they take the flight and fight. "Come. Let us feast. Hans has been needing a project and I believe that some people on this Terran has created something that has peanut butter and bovine meat meshed and mingled together." She pauses for a beat, muttering quietly. "We must put our stomachs to the test."

Hal Jordan blinks for a moment, ,"Wait, peanut butter and beef? I…I'm not sure even I can face that. You may have found the limit of my courage." he says, letting her lead the way further into the ship.

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