Cordelia was mid-bite when one of the McManus brothers-no, wait, they were from Ireland, weren't they? She could never tell those two damned countries apart. Europeans, as a rule, were generally annoying, though. She casually wiped off her face with the back of her jacket's sleeve and sized up the newcomer. Tall, looked like he'd seen a few fights. Face like a butcher knife, hair like it went through a blender. Not entirely what she'd call attractive, but not horrible to look at either-not that she was looking to hook up with anyone here. Nope, she was collecting her paychecks and leaving before things went to hell. [i]Do they have an award for dedication or something? I deserve that shit.[/i] Cordelia rolled her sleeves up, revealing a hint of black ink peeking out over her elbows: the tail end of tattoos that curled up her arms. There were faint scars on her arms, but these didn't seem to be the wrist-slitting of depression or self-harm, no, these looked more like ones acquired in street fights. No track marks on the crooks of her arms, at least.

"You, uh, open up to all girls with that line, or just the superpowered ones? Cause I can think of a few better choices. Maybe 'Hey baby, I'm Voltage-and tonight is gonna be [i]electrifying[/i]'. That's just one. Really, you've got a whole world of lightning-based innuendo to work with..." she paused, her brow furrowing. "I'm assuming your power's related to that...Voltage. I'm not really read up on everybody here. Not really big on the whole "teamwork" thing. Oh, and just call me Cord. That's not me warming up to you, by the way, I'm just not a huge fan of Whisper. If you've got any better suggestions, I am happy to take them. I haven't gotten my crime-fighting bustier and stockings monogrammed yet." Cordelia reached over and grabbed another croissant, considering it the most appealing aspect of League life thus far. The least appealing aspect of the League was everyone's insistence on using codenames, which made her feel like she was in [i]Top Gun[/i]. Or their no smoking policy. 

"But," Cordelia said, swallowing a mouthful of bliss, "assuming you're not bullshitting me with the dislike for all the flashy crap they have around you, that's pretty admirable. I mean, you run around in a costume beating people up, I kinda wonder what the hell your dad did to you as a child, you know?" Cordelia leaned back, pulling her legs up into the chair beside her in a pose that was vaguely feline in appearance. The shadow she cast in the chair seemed to deepen and pool around her, flickering ever so slightly. Cordelia watched Volt carefully, her glacial blue eyes studying him closely. She knew that Voltage was a higher-up with the League, but he seemed more or less genuine. She couldn't get a feel for him quite yet, and hadn't heard enough about him to make up her mind. If Zenith or somebody had come over, she would've just told them to go fuck a landmine, but this guy seemed alright. If he let off any annoying tendencies, she'd probably tell him to do the same, but she figured it couldn't hurt to have an ally or two here while she was here. Cordelia didn't plan on spending the rest of her life here-mostly because she wanted the rest of her life to be longer than a few years-but there was no sense in intentionally pissing people off. Well, rephrase that: intentionally pissing off people who weren't actually annoying. Cordelia had no problems being a dick to those deserving of it. 

But it never hurt to have somebody watching your back. Well, a second someone watching your back. Cordelia already had one guardian angel.

And hers went cold as ice as Hot Rod zipped out of nowhere, making Cordelia tense up and turn slowly in his direction. She didn't outright show fear-no, that was bad. Bad for survival, good for getting jumped. Somebody pulls out their piece or whips out a switchblade, you don't flinch or anything equally telling-you just give them the same steady, cold gaze you've been giving. Cordelia made sure this wasn't a supervillain that just breezed past security (because there had to be somebody with superpowers the League had pissed off by now, and Cordelia wasn't about to take a bullet for the cause) and then let her guard down-a smidge. Her shadow, a deeper black and fluctuating a little more noticeably, refused to do the same. 

"Mighty fast," Cordelia noted. She couldn't keep all these superpowered people straight. She had settled mostly for distinguishing physical features, which was a lot easier with the people that had dragon scales for skin or bright silver hair or something. This guy...ginger...tall...dressed like Captain America on patriotic steroids...no, not ringing a bell. "I would be totally impressed-" this said with more sarcasm than most human beings were capable of-"except for the fact I'm too busy wondering if you've got super speed when it comes to getting it on with your boyfriend, too. Anyways, as you were saying, Volt..." 

Cordelia had no intention of throwing down with any of these people-mostly given that throwing down with anyone was a good way to get killed or have the shit beaten out of you. Regardless, it never hurt to act unimpressed. She figured an eighteen year old girl would turn heads in the League-not in the "oh, look at her go..." way, but in the "why'd they let somebody so young in?" way. She wanted people to wonder just a little about her-and if they thought she had supernatural muscle to back all the trash she was talking, that was absolutely fine by her. The less people that bothered her, the better. Flamey McRunsfast, as opposed to Volt, had already irritated Cordelia somewhat.

[i]I swear, if the food at this place wasn't so damned good...[/i]