<div class="floatleft">(http://img2.timeinc.net/people/i/2010/stylewatch/blog/100705/kellan-lutz-300x400.jpg)</div><hr/><strong>Name:</strong>Conner "Kon-El" Kent<br/><strong>Nom de Guerre:</strong>Superboy<br/><strong>Affiliation:</strong>Bat Family<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Saturday the 17th of October 2015, 19:20-19:35<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Fish Mooney's bar<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Open<br/><hr/><br/>Conner stood (http://astro.temple.edu/~tub83164/Pickback%20-%20Large%20Pics/Superman%20STanding%20STrong.jpg) on the edge of a random building, his pose powerful and regal almost...too bad no one was around to see. Still, just because he didn't have an audience, didn't mean he could skimp on his posing practice. No matter how good a hero you were, if you didn't look the part, you weren't complete. If people saw him show up and he was slouching or dragging his feet. They wouldn't feel safe now that he was around.<br/><br/>They'd wonder why that slacker type showed up in a Superman inspired bodysuit. So he kept his pose strong while his eyes looked all over the city for signs of trouble. Sure there was trouble; this was<em>Gotham</em>, there was always trouble. But it was all small scale stuff so far; nothing the GCPD and a few of the vigilantes roaming around couldn't handle. And since he had a bit of free time...in the next few moments Conner was speeding through the sky toward Fish Mooney's place.<br/><br/>Sure she was a bad guy, er girl. Just as bad as the Penguin, and probably a whole lot smarter too. But her bar had good drinks, and it was easy to keep a sharp eye on the criminal element at a bar. You'd be surprised how loose even the tightest lips got when some vodka had been poured between them and they thought no one was listening. He touched down in an alley across the street, making sure to roll the sleeves of his costume up to his shoulders so nothing of it could be seen outside of the t shirt, and jeans he now wore after a quick change. When he walked inside, he slipped his hands into his pockets and went up to the bar after fishing his ID out.<br/><br/>Sure he was not only illegal because his body was eighteen, but because he was technically not even a year old yet. Still, ID's were easy to fake when you looked legal and you were a genius. Sliding it to the bartender, then taking it back, Conner looked at the rows of liquor lining the shelves, then pulled out a 10$. "Goldshclager in a big glass." He looked away from the man at the bar and toward a familiar looking redhead sitting further back, then smiled as he turned back.<br/><br/>"Gonna need some liquid courage if I'm gonna talk to Red over there." The bartender gave him a knowing smile, filled the glass nearly to the brim and handed to it. "Good luck, Romeo. Place like this? She's probably tougher'n you are." Nodding, Conner skulled the entire glass and slid it back to him. "We'll see, now won't we? Wish me luck." Smacking the bar very lightly(for him), Conner walked through the establishment until he was standing next to Megan's table.<br/><br/>With no hesitation, he slid into the seat across from her and leaned forward with his hands clasped together on the tabletop. "Evening, miss. You come here often?" The conversation sounded completely normal, like a confident guy trying to pick up a woman. What anyone listening wouldn't hear though, was the second question that came from the young man. The one that you wouldn't hear unless you were psychic.<em>'How you doin', Megan? Didn't expect to find you here tonight.'</em>