Heritage

At first, Estelle just stared at the offered helmet blankly; yep, chugging that beer was probably a mistake. But then she shook her head and handed it back to him. "No, you wear it; I have other options." Her blue eyes looked upward as her amazing hair folded and wove itself into a golden motorcycle helmet! She knocked on it with her knuckles, and it yeilded a nice solid clunk. "See? Better than fiberglass! Now, where's my jacket? Ah, I'm wearing it!" She climbed on the back of the Harley and wrapped her arms around Gregory's waist. "Such a clever man, you are, riding one of these! Oh, let's take the Promenade, it's much prettier that way."

Estelle laughed and waved her hand dismissively. “What? Oh, don’t worry about it; you get used to it when you have good genes.†“It’s not too far, a bit closer to Hanover; I can give you the- oh!†The last beer she ordered arrived, and she studied it carefully. “Mmm…well, it is already open, and you’re driving..I can do this.†Taking the bottle firmly in one hand, she tipped back her head and straight-up chugged it in one go! Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, the lovely blonde smiled sheepishly. “See, I learned all sorts of things at Harvard; benefit of a well-rounded education.†This is followed by a prodigious belch which earns her a smattering of applause. "Ooh, excuse me! C'mon, we better go before my reputation gets any more colorful. Lead the way, Mad Gregory!â€

“Complicated, me? No, not really; I’m just like any other…disowned heiress with living hair and a doctorate, who plays the electric guitar. I’m as simple as basic math.†She actually jumped a tiny bit when she felt his hand on hers; it was unexpected, but not unpleasant, though it need seem a little faster than she’d like. To cool Gregory down a bit, she gently slid her hand out from under his, and signaled for another beer. “You want another, or are you good for now? Actually, I’m starving; do you want to grab a bite? I know a delightfully skeezy Chinese place that stays open late; terribly greasy, but we’re both young, right? Besides, we can just fight it off tomorrow!â€

Grim got about two-thirds of all that, enough to make her realize why she didn't pal around with Dok much in the past. Not that she wasn't enjoying herself or learning new things, but her brain was starting to actually hurt "Uh, wow. I'm suddenly remebering the little map of the known planes from the back of my dad's old D&D books; looks like those nerds were on to something!" Then her expression became more thoughtful as she pushed tghew last of her dinner around her plate with her fork. "When I was in Avalon, I met the Queen of Summer, part of their whole Seelie/Unseelie court thing; she said that Avalon, and faeries in general, were just stories, told and retold over and over again. She said what made me special was the fact that unlike every other fae, I still had the spark of humanity, what you might call a soul. It's what allows me to create and feel compassion...y'know, for mortals..." Suddenly she felt very restless. "Hey, maybe we should get to those tests, yeah?" She rubbed her hands together eagerly. "All this thinking makes me want to break stuff!" :twisted:

Post is now edited!

Gotcha, will do a bit of editing!

Despite herself, Estelle was really starting to dislike Fusion, and muttered snippily under her breath. "'If I'm providing the muscle here, I should go in first.' I can lift six tons, you tentacled cow..." With a bit of effort, she focused back on the issue at hand, sending a few of her own tentacles (yes, she was being a bit of a hypocrite) out with tweezers to take samples off the floor, walls and ceiling and deposit them in separate zip-lock bags for later analysis. The heroic chemist chuckled. "Ah, the classic Scooby-Doo dilemma: do we split into teams, or do we stick together as a group? There are plus and minuses to both, of course." Her eyes wandered off in Fusion’s general direction. “Personally I’d rather split up...â€

Estelle nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, that would be fine!" Then she suddenly looked concerned, and leaned forward to rest a hand on Greg's leg. "Wait, you said it would be complicated; if this is in any way an imposition, we can do something else. We can go bowling or engage in some other normal, human activity." Her tone was light but there's just a hint of pleading; she didn't want to lose this fish so easily, so she was willing to be flexible.

Even with estelle citing passion and booze in her system, that last post seems awfully talky; let me know if I should take a machette to it, gang

Estelle shook her head thoughtfully. "Not entirely, Miss Parker; for one thing, the FCPD's STAR Squad prides itself on being able to handle any superhuman threat, and sadly that pride can manifest itself in a sort of ‘we can handle this ourselves' attitude, so they are far more likely to come into contact with such threats than the average beat cop. Of course you're right, most of the time there are more than enough superheroes to handle any situation, but if this year has taught us anything, it’s that Freedom City is not like other towns; major catastrophic threats do occur here, and from time to time on such a scale that expected help can take much longer to arrive." She made a point of turning to address Jessica and smiling, to make sure her fellow scientist could see her counterpoint was part of a friendly discourse, and not some sort of attack. "If we can help a regular police officer survive extraordinary circumstances, even if it's only a few minutes until the Freedom League or another team can arrive on the scene, we have provided a valuable service to both the officer and the city as a whole." The long-haired beauty shrugged. "But of course, such protective technologies would have to be affordable, safe and easy to both manufacture and use in the field; we don't want to needlessly complicate a policeman's life and put him at risk by creating a solution that's far worse than the original problem." Dr de Havilland turned back to the rest of the group as she started a new holo-doodle. "So perhaps a quick, single use device that could be easily stowed in a police cruiser, say in the trunk or even between the two front seats. A folded set of overalls, perhaps, that fills with a layer of ablative foam once donned and securely zipped up, to protect against heat or radiation." She stopped herself and smiled a bit self-consciously. "Forgive me, I'm prattling on; sadly it's not often I get to discuss such topics on a day-to-day basis." She laid a strand of hair against her graceful throat. "Goodness, my pulse is actually racing; perhaps I should skip that second mimosa..." :roll:

Ah, so the window is either larger than I thought it was, the canvas smaller, or both. I was thinking Grim might have to roll it up and make a tube to carry it in; well, she still might want to do that anyway, I suppose. So I should edit my post to reflect these adjusted dimensions?

Sleight of Hand: 1d20+15=28 In your face, cowboy! :P

The Tower of London: Grim and Blake Grim nodded as Blake set up his canvas. "Well that would kinda make sense; things are clearly very messed up here, y'know, outta balance." The speed at which the mad master worked was astonishing; he seemed to literally paint through the power of his will alone! The shapeshifter could only gape in awe at the freshly-painted masterpiece. "Dude, that is....amazing! Oh, I need to make you a gift, too, something to brighten up the place." She absently held out her hand and conjured a tube-shaped leather map case, which she then slid the rolled-up painting into for easier carrying while aloft. After a bit of thought, she nodded to herself. "Okay, I think I've got it." She closed her eyes to get an image formed clearly in her mind, then held out her hand and summoned forth a heavy wooden chair, carved with scenes she recalled from her visit to Avalon: tiny faeries dancing on a toadstoool, a brave princess besting a troll in a riddle game and similar images. She opened her eyes and smiled, very happy with the result. "Nice! Okay, this is a glamour chair, so keep it away from iron and it should last pretty much forever, alright?"

Though she might be tiny, the way the wee fae leaned forward as Dok talked, eyes squinted and pointed ears twitching this way and that, clearly showed it was an effort for her to follow his detailed explanation. When he finished, she conjured up a minature Lay-Z-Boy to plop down into while she fanned her face with one hand. "Wow, okay. So I'm guessing you would say I'm somehow what, shuttling mass back and forth between here and Avalon when I shrink? Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Hold on, I'm getting a neckache from looking up atcha." The recliner disappears, and she zips back into her chair and resumes her regular dimensions. "There we go, that's better! So do you see Avalon as being like any other dimension? Same laws, same physics and stuff?"

Grim scratched the back of her head as her starlet threads melted away, leaving a sleeveless workout version of her normal costume. "Uh, I'm immature and easily bored? Just a matter of time, really; I have lots of other ideas, but they're actually much more silly." The tiny brunette beamed; in truth, this sort of flirtatious shapeshifter play might seem rather of odd to some, but her brief (and highly unrepeatable!) afternoon session with Atlas many months ago showed her that as much as she adored Colt's stability and dependability, she needed a safe outlet for what she now considered to be her 'fae impulses'. Vince was not only a great tutor on pretty much any subject, but also a tireless playmate who could always set up a subroutine for her amusement while attending to far more important matters elsewhere. "Whoa, way to raise the stakes, 8-Bit Boy; this set-up is outta control! Guess we make up the rules as we go, huh?" She reached over to playful slap Mona on the arm before backflipping her way across the colorful landscape. "Tag, you're it!"

Grim is Power Stunting and blowing a HP to get this affect, but still needs to breathe...for now....

Grim shook her head in stunned disbelief. "Dude, you have to stop being smart like that; it's like...watching a dog play golf or something." Suddenly a mischievous grin spread across her face. "Y'know what, speaking of bizarre and dangerous things we can do with our powers, I wanna try something else." The shapeshifter took a deep breath, then scrunched up her face with effort; in a matter of moments, she crumpled into a heavy, old-fashioned high-backed leather chair, like one might find in a men's social club or a library. She maintains the form for several seconds before she pops back into her old self, gasping for breath. "Whoa, that actually worked! Now I just have to figure out how not to breathe!"

This idea is not without merit; the idea of a superhero 'think tank' is actually quite cool, and fairly unique! Goss should have at least 1pp to throw in the mix.

Grim can go on to describe her plans for the music section (to be honest, she really just sort of got the idea now, but the idea is rapidly growing on her), or we can save that for another thread. Up to you.

All this talk of the wonders of a scientific education filled Lynn with mock-outrage; she sat up and gestures towards herself. “What, no love for the Criminal Justice major? They don’t just hand out those degrees, you know.†But the return of her fiancé brought a smile back to her face. Grim nodded as she reached up to rub Colt's arm. "The hard part is picking the right date; I really want my Uncle Karl to be there, but it takes a while to get furloughs approved with the Department of Corrections. He's serving five years at Bayside, but he's actually the sweetest guy." She sighed deeply. "He just really loves cars..." :(

Estelle's eyes widened in disbelief. "You have got to be kidding! Really? What are the chances? Well, we are in Freedom City, so I suppose the odds are higher here, but still..." Now that she's dropped her 'cover', it's quite clear that her animated hair is very much a part of her; several of the strands are gently tapping her leg, parts of the stool and even the bar to the beat of the AC/DC track as she ponders Gregory's question, rubbing a finger along the lip of her beer. "Hmm, another date with a super; actually I just got out of a brief relationship with one, but it's not like it soured me on the concept." She shrugged. "I think we were just looking for different things at the time. I think she actually wanted something long-term, but I'm not there yet." She sighed, set her nearly empty beer on the bar, and faced the crimefigting vet straight on. "All right, I'm not going to lie to you, 'Mad Dog'; this complicates things. But it also makes some things easier, so it's not all bad." She shook her head and chuckled. "I'm guessing this is why so many actors end up together, at least for a while; common ground, common experience." Then a thought struck her. "In an odd way, you know what would be a good first date? Patroling together, followed by a late supper. Am I crazy for suggesting such a thing?"

Grim didn't need to eat anymore, although some days it seemed she ate more now than ever before, even if it was only glamoured food she created out of perversity or boredom. That being said, it had been a long time since she'd had a well-prepared exotic meal, and since Dok had cleared busted his little Deutschländer keister putting it together, it would be insulting not to wade right in and have it. Which she did; the tiny faeling appeared to eat half her weight in spicy veggie manna from Nirvana. Man, I hope none of these tests are too strenuous, or I'm gonna pop a seam! Dok, you've outdone yourself; seriously, your crazy MC Escher house and levitational gadgets pale in comparison next to your mad kitchen skillz. You need to open a restaurant, with like...nuclear-powered pizza ovens or something…" She leaned back in her seat, sighed and happily thumped her full tummy. "Mmmm! Okay, here’s one of the weird things about me and my powers; I just stuffed a ton of high-quality Indian numminess into my gut, but I can still-“ And here she shrank down to pixie size wearing her working outfit (minus the mask), and fluttered to land on the tablecloth beside her place setting. “Do this. So where did all the food go?†She patted her tiny belly.“I still feel full, but why didn’t I just explode and ruin your nice tablecloth? Très mysterious, no?â€

Hmm, this was already getting interesting! It was always fun to apply one's own expertise to an unfamiliar problem. No offense to Victory or Dr Volk, but something about their project was a little too military for Estelle’s taste. The blonde chemist cleared her throat. "Passive restraints are an excellent line of inquiry. However my primary concern would be the possibility of equipment failure; if the detonator fails to activate, you have a dud grenade, or if it detonates too close to the 'perp', there's a risk of serious injury from the charge itself or fragments of the casing.†She did a quick technical doodle, adding glowing outlines to the simple police figure to illustrate her point as she spoke. "Perhaps a variable flow nozzle…connected via a hose that ran along the officer's arm…to a lightweight tank on his or her back? Also the officer would need to carry a solvent that could quickly and safely break down the adhesive, for instance if the perpetrator’s airway was blocked by the compound. Of course, a hose can be slashed with a knife and a tank can be punctured by a firearm; new challenges would be created by any delivery system."

Being brought up by a pair of wealthy patrician parents and a serious of stern British nannies, Estelle was taught from an early age how to be civil in all situations and circumstances, so naturally she took a secret delight in admiring those who spoke their minds and didn't suffer fools lightly. She had a friend in high school named Alexis who was particularly gifted in this area, and could drop an idiot at ten paces with a single well-chosen barb. So when John Fraser delivered his academic smackdown on the repugnant Liebniz, whom she knew slightly from previous unpleasant encounters, she nearly burst out laughing right then and there. Thankfully a golden band snapped across her mouth mere seconds before any guffaws shook the room; her mother always said Estelle laughed like a tickled mule, but most of the time she kept it under control unless something took her quite by surprise or she was among close friends. The tendril finally released its tight grip on her bright pink face as she wiped tears from her eyes with a napkin. Turning her head slightly in John's direction, she murmured "Well-played, sir" under her breath as she reached for a glass of water.

Tower of London: Grimalkin Grim had heard of William Blake, but didn't know too much about him; she was pretty sure he'd written that 'Tyger Tyger Burning Bright', and Ralph Fiennes went crazy and ate one of his paintings in Red Dragon (aweomse flick but creepy as hell!), but that was about it. She felt sorry for him, locked away in his madman's studio... However, it was super-freaky to see his paintings join him when he danced! Wait, didn't he just say he was two hundred years old? Was Blake fae-touched in this world, a wizard or what? Could he help them, or was he part of the problem. Aww! The way he said it really touched her heartstrings, even though he also kind of freaked her out; however, time was of the essence! "Tell you what, Mr Blake. I don't have much time, but if you want to sketch me, like in charcoal or pastels, I will model for you, but first you need to tell me what you know about the crazy weather this summer. I'm trying to help Ms Wells and my friends fix things!" She zipped between the bars (yikes!), then landed on the floor in the farthest corner and resumed her normal size, adopting sort of Victorian version of her regular outfit, with fancier stitching and more of a Mardi Gras look to her mask. "Which size do you prefer, jumbo or tiny? Well, as jumbo as I'm gonna get anytime soon, anyways..." ;)