Gizmo
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"Educated guess," Trevor clarified with a subtle gesture of his shoulders that could be extrapolated as a shrug. "Your phrasing - 'current state' - suggested coma, death, possibly brain damage. Latter two would have been more clearly permanent, removed uncertainty, so." From his use of nearly complete sentences, it seemed he was slowly warming to the eccentrically dressed girl, though it was admittedly difficult to really tell. The dark haired young man considered the new information for a few moments before further inquiring, "If... 'permission' was given, returning here would be difficult?"
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The audible sniff of someone trying very hard not to cry came from Eric's left, in the direction of the row of newspaper boxes nearby the coffee shop, followed by a morose, disembodied voice saying, "...hi. Sorry about the mess." While completely invisible to the rest of the evening's passersby, the necromancer's extra senses were easily able to see Kimber sitting atop one of the metal boxes, elbows resting on her knees and chin resting in her hands as she looked thoroughly dejected. Now cast in a range of pale blue, translucent shades with her hair rising and falling as if in a strong wind, the phantom sniffed again before looking up to meet Eric's eyes. "I kinda freaked out a little."
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Trevor found himself less offended by the exaggerated stereotypes of the faux UN agents than the overwhelming idiocy at work. He couldn't even find it in himself to engage them in disdain or indignation as Cannonade and Edge did respectively, instead refusing the charade altogether. Whatever they were hoping to accomplish specifically with their stunt, the irked young man denied it to them as a roiling cloud of light devouring mist poured from him and obscured the entire stage in less than the span of a heartbeat. "Going dark," the gravelly, filtered voice of Midnight grated over the team's comlinks without further explanation of preamble. In the confused shouting that resulted, the sole female member of the supposed 'Liberation Force' found herself abruptly struck with a solid blow of a hardwood escrima stick. The others appeared to be fairly straightforward bruisers, easily dealt with by Cannonade and Wander, but the black clad strategist was taking no chances with the less obvious powerset of the 'Flaming Feminist'.
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Don't forget to let me get Midnight's IC post in there; there's going to be a 25' radius cloud of mist surrounding the stage now.
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Trevor caught himself frowning noticeably and schooled his expression into careful neutrality once more as he moved to retrieve the full pot of freshly brewed coffee. He had no reason to think ill of this Etain, rather in fact he had reason to think well of her given his trust in Eve's judgement. On the other hand, this was likely the most he'd ever seen his shorter friend open herself up in such a fashion - clearly a conscious effort on the gymnast's part - and with that came if not nervousness per se then an acute feeling of irrational protectiveness the particular brand of which the dark haired young man was not entirely familiar with. Deigning to remain silent while he sorted himself out, he focused instead of filling the three generously sized mugs and handing out two of them.
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16 should be enough to hit her flat-footed, so sure.
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Trevor rumbled briefly in a baritone sound of understanding touched by approval. "Mhn. Protecting another, then. Fair enough." That did put things into much clear perspective; leaping atop the proverbial grenade certainly made little sense bereft of context. The matter-of-fact manner in which Etain related the situation recommended her to him in particular. It young illusionist had neither become defensive nor expectant of praise, but rather rankly conveyed the particulars of an unfortunate situation of which she'd attempted to make the best. "Coma?" he hazarded with regard to her indisposed escortee.
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Midnight II Free Action: Release midnight mist around the stage. Free Action: Arrange Gadgets for Quick Change 1. Free Action: Change quickly! Move Action: Move to the 'Flaming Feminist' on the theory that the others look like fairly straightforward bruisers. Standard Action: Escrima Stick Attack. (1d20+14=16) Gah. Let me know if she's caught flat-footed or not; that's going to effect the DC as well as whether or not I have to reroll with an HP.
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"Why would we think you-- wait, you mean you and Becky...? Oh. Oh! Oooooh..." Ghost Girl floated closer to the ground to be less conspicuous, tapping the tips of her index fingers together in embarrassment. "Never mind!" Bobbing through the air over to Wraith, she quietly admitted, "I totally thought Sage and CT were a thing, but that actually makes waaay more sense." The phantom teen rose a little higher back into the air as she followed the discussion between Citizen and Cobalt Templar over when the former had turned up. "So this Dunwich Prep is like another superhero school? What 'incident' do you mean?" Pausing, she shrugged helplessly. "Hey, I'm old, but I'm not 1929 old!"
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Flopping down across the length to the couch once it had been slid into place, Ellie placed her hands behind her hair, recently trimmed and redyed a convincing black. The move had been much less tiring than it might have otherwise been thanks to Mara's physics bending technology, but between the trials of the summer and the hectic juggling of her university courses, superheroing and personal life the young woman had found herself feeling easily drained of late, emotionally as much as physically. "This is nice," she opined, looking about the apartment from her reclined position. "Don't get me wrong, I dig the secret clubhouse vibe of the warehouse, but you deserve to live like real people for a change."
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"Great, thanks so much!" Kimber reached out and took the cup from Eric, her beaming smile managing to grow a notch brighter even as her body language made it look like she was concentrating very hard on the simple act of retrieving the beverage. Stepping away from the counter, she looked about for a seat, then paused as she glanced down and noticed the scribbled message. Letting out a startled, "Yeep!" the brunette brought both hands to her mouth in reflexive surprise... while the coffee cup remained suspended in the air exactly where she's left it. "Oh, marmalade," she yelped in dismay, shoving her hands forward again only to have them overshoot and pass right through the paper cup and steaming liquid as though it wasn't there - or, more accurately, like her hands weren't really there. Finally her concentration failed and the coffee crashed to the floor, spilling everywhere while the mortified teen sprinted for the door.
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At that both of Trevor's eyebrows rose above the top of his oval shaped sunglasses, before he tipped the brim of his fedora back slightly from his eyes to regard the illusionist more frankly, loosing a few locks of dark bangs. He was silent for a judicious beat, and then another, finally speaking, "Assume you had a good reason to agree to that. Otherwise... not very smart." If up until now he had been observably reserving judgement, it was clear now that he was trying very hard not to assume the worst at this latest piece of information. Presumably Etain must have had the most dire of motivations for willingly placing herself in such an unenviable position, but the young man had some difficulty imaging what situation would necessitate said bargain. He paused once more, giving the girl the opportunity to either explain herself or shift the discussion, as she liked.
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"Oh, no, just the coffee, thanks," the disguised phantom insisted with a wave of her hands and a sheepish smile. "I'm sorta on a diet these days, aheh." She sounded a little wistful about that, and glanced reflexively over at the the row of pastries Eric was indicating but her bubbly demeanor wasn't affected for more than a moment. Turning back to blink a few times at his question, realization slowly dawned. "A name...? Oh! My name, so you can call me when it's ready! That's really smart!" she praised in a genuinely impressed tone while beaming. "It's Kimber!"
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Initiative. (1d20+4=15)
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"Gosh, thanks!" the enthusiastic teenager next in line gushed cheerily, rocking up and down absently on her heels. The girl's dark brown hair bounced off of the shoulder blades of a bright blue jacket which was a little light considering the chilly weather, while her bright green eyes scanned the board behind Eric's head. "Jams, there's like a bazillion choices... Um, could I get... one of those pumpkin... coffee things the sign out front was talking about? That sounds seasonal!" Perhaps misinterpreting the reaction her outgoing demeanor was garnering, she confessed to the barista in a lower voice, "I'm used to there being one type of coffee and lots of different donuts, y'know, but I heard this was the sort of place lots of people came out to and wow, so true, right?"
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Should we roll Sense Motive on how fake these fake fakers are?
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Trevor made a short, derisive sound into his coffee cup that indicated he was dismissing age as an acceptable excuse out of hand. "Not unnatural. Difficult position," he agreed flatly as he lowered the cup again. "Can't feasibly do both, however. Letting others dictate the outcome for you is unacceptable. Difficult or not, deciding sooner gives more time to ensure preferred outcome." On one hand, it was a coolly rational way of looking at the situation, but there was a definite emotional component to his insistence that if the situation was out of the girl's control, she needed to take that control back.
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Notice Check vs. DC 25. (1d20+10=26)
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"Hnn. Indecisive." Trevor's voice was a evenly modulated as ever, but that intoned word was notably weighted with disapproval. In retrospect it was clear that either choice would have been better received than choosing not to choose, but Etain's unapologetic honesty at least mitigated any rebuke. "Come to decision, let me know," he continued, finally reaching forward to pick up the cup of coffee in front of him and straightening from his inclined posture. It was difficult to tell with his stilted mannerism, but it sounded like an offer of assistance as much as anything. "Meanwhile... You need to speak to Eve. Make her understand, if she doesn't." Not much typically got by the petite acrobat, but this was obviously different.
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"Oh, oh yeah! You got it, that's called 'making a toast'," Kimber confirmed after processing for brief moment, nodding enthusiastically. "Which is different than making toast, like from bread. Being toasty is different too, or getting toasted, so... Wow, that's really overloaded, I never noticed that before..." The phantom placed one finger alongside her cheek thoughtfully as she distracted herself. Glancing over at Indira's raised cup reminded her of what she'd been talking about in the first place and a wave of her hand brought a loose piece of lined paper floating over to her intangible hand, where it folder itself in half and rolled into a crude cone shape. "To being strange," she agreed with a broad smile.
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Pushing her lower jaw back into human proportions with both hands, Ghost Girl worked it back and forth a few times until she was satisfied then floated over to the fallen Bastion as the rest of the team gathered within Papercut's barrier. "Don't hurt him, it's not his fault!" she implored once she was within earshot. Pausing for a moment in thought, Kimber tilted her head slightly to one side before admitting, "I mean, I'm assuming. I guess maybe it is his fault, but I think we should give him the benefit of the doubt until he has a chance to explain, right?"
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Trevor raised a single hand in a polite gesture of forestallment as his hostess continued. "Hypothetically," he persisted, the steady calm of his tone making it more difficult to perceive the new undercurrent of understanding patience. Slightly more subtle was the steely quality just below that which suggested he was unlikely to go anywhere until he received a more definitive answer. "If it was your choice. Here or there." It was perhaps unfair to put Etain on the spot in such a manner, but he was attempting to make it as simple a question as possible, setting aside for a moment issues of consequence or difficulty.
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Trevor made a small sound in the back of his throat to indicate comprehension as Etain elaborated on the uncertain nature of her continued presence. Like his own visit to Earth-XX, dimensional travel tended to come with a bungee-like return trip as an individual's natural state reasserted itself and sent them back to their native plane. Whether or not that was specifically what was happening in the illusionist's case, the general principle seemed to still apply. "Displaced from somewhere you wish to return to or or not?" he asked with the same even calm.
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"University," Kimber corrected reflexively before offering Indira a sheepish look of apology. "Er, in Canada, anyway. But I think I understand. Oh! They won't make you catch up when you get home, will they? Maybe you can get, like, transfer credits!" Even if the other world held a lesser stigma against having to repeat studies, the ghost didn't expect being is the equivalent of a classroom with a bunch of kids younger than you was much fun. "Anyway, thanks for that," she continued gratefully in response to her friend's assurances. "I'm really glad they made us roomies."
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Are we waiting on another GM post first?
