Gizmo

Trevor responded with a rumbling baritone sound that resonated in his chest as he leaned forward again to plant a series of kisses along Erin's throat. "Mentioned how beautiful you are when you're planning ahead?" he asked, matching her smile with one of his own as he ran his fingers gently through the auburn hair framing her face. As she watched, the tips of his fingers darkened to matte obsidian, the transformation spreading up his arms to cover his skin.

Tilting his chin to meet Erin's lips, Trevor leaned backward, supporting them both with one arm while the other wrapped around the waist or her coveralls and pulled her closer. The kiss was slow but heavy, leaving the young man feeling light headed as he let his eyes drift closed partway. Ater several long beats and with considerable effort, he broke away just far enough to catch his breath and look Erin in eyes, the flush in his cheeks darkening to nearly onyx black, "If you... you're sure...?"

The slightly flush in Trevor's lean face would have been almost imperceptible has it not been for the sooty darkness of it's shade. "Well. Practice," he managed to modestly explain. His attention well and truly diverted, the young man found Erin's hand and placed his own atop it, remembering the first time they ridden the Night Cycle together. "That was a very good night," he assessed with a small smile.

Freebooter can't touch that (who can?) so he fall for it. He's still Feinted against her until she actually attacks him. Ecal, throw up those rolls for me, then Spellbound is up!

Jack took in the massive cavern slowly, giving himself time to process the scope of it all. He was reminded vaguely for a moment of the overflowing brawl with the death cultists and their dark masters that previous Hallowe'en, a thought that put the fencer unconsciously on alert. The sight of the reclining Queen gave room an entirely different context, and Jack had to suppress the urge to whistle. Wow. I guess that's what you call 'big exoskeletoned'. He managed to restrain himself from saying anything at least until Fleur made the introductions.

"The boor may have the right idea," Freebooter suggested as a series of bounds culminated in a clearly superhuman leap toward Miss Americana's airborne position. "Choose a dance partner, haha!" the high tech pirate crowed as his diode studded cutlass flashed at the peak of his sailing arc in a broad strike against the patriotic paragon! The remaining robots moved with surprising speed despite their great, lumbering size. Shrugging off Spellbound's electromagnetic attack, one of the pair menacing the young woman managed to wrap its cold metallic arms around her in a crushing grip! Meanwhile, Geckoman's upward velocity only brought him into easier range for a mechanical bear hug oh his own. With the teenagers restrained, the Katanarchists wasted no time pelting them with shuriken and katana blows!

Sense Motive vs. DC26. (1d20+11=13) Security Guard Whelp, he can't actually beat the robot's Grapple so he just twists in the wind. Freebooter Move Action: Leaping! Standard Action: Cutlass attack against Miss Americana. (1d20+12=23) Too bad her Impervious soaks it up! Move-By Action: Land gracefully! Robots 1, 2, 3, 5 & 6 Robot 1 - Hold the security guard hostage! Robot 2 - Aid Attack. (1d20+6=26) Robot 3 - Grapple Spellbound. (1d20+8=23), Opposed Grapple Check. (1d20+30=41) Robot 5 - Aid Attack. (1d20+6=12) Robot 6 - Grapple Geckoman. (1d20+8=28), Opposed Grapple Check. (1d20+30=50) Katanarchists 1 - 5, 14 - 21 Ninjas 1 to 5 - Combine Attacks vs. Geckoman. (1d20+3=7, 1d20+3=23, 1d20+3=21, 1d20+3=22, 1d20+3=4) Assuming he's grappled, that's a DC 22 Toughness Save. Ninjas 14 to 17 - Combine Attacks vs. Geckoman. (1d20-1=17, 1d20-1=11, 1d20-1=6, 1d20-1=14) Again, assuming he's grappled, that's a DC 18 Toughness Save. Ninjas 18 to 21 - Combine Attacks vs. Spellbound. (1d20-1=8, 1d20-1=11, 1d20-1=4, 1d20-1=2) 19 - Spellbound - Uninjured - Extra Effort 18 - Crimson Katana - Uninjured - Taunted 17 - Jack of all Blades - Uninjured - 5HP 16 - Geckoman - Uninjured - 3HP 16 - Security Guards - x1 10 - Freebooter - Uninjured - Feinted Against Miss A 3 - Robots x5 3 - Katanarchists - x13 3 - Miss Americana - Uninjured - 3HP

"Mmh," Trevor murmured in vague agreement, finding himself a little distracted from the work at hand, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Having Erin leaning over his shoulder without helmets in the way or wind whipping past was an entirely more intimate prospect. "Trickiest part is not weighing it down too much in the process," he noted with a soft clearing of his throat, even as his head turned slightly to one side to face the young woman.

"It's okay, querida, we knew what you meant," Jill assured Dragonfly with a sympathetic smile, pressing her knee gently against the inventor's leg under the table. The look the medic gave the rest of the table discouraged commenting to contrary. She quirked an eyebrow, surprised that Fusion had heard about that particular tussle, but quickly hid it behind nonchalance. "Well, who seriously tries robbing a bank in Freedom anymore, really? The brain trust those guys were not."

Trevor took his time demonstrating the Night Cycle's working, focusing for the time being on the things Erin would need to know to get the motorcycle running in an emergency. There were enough hidden compartments and on board systems to fill several nights, but then the point wasn't really briefing her on the vehicle's capabilities anyway. He'd put more of himself into the motorcycle's constant tweaks and improvements than any other project, and there was a nervous excitement to presenting that work to an audience. It wasn't something he could imagine trusting to anyone else.

"So are they sarcastic tentacle quotes when you use them?" Jill drawled dryly as she glanced confidently at her hand and rolled one of her chips in her hard as she waited for play to reach her. The coltish teen evidently didn't much appreciate the tone Fusion had taken with Grim, though her tone remained on the friendly side of challenging. "Anyway, 'Japanese-influenced' doesn't exactly rule out a lot of tech companies. It's not like AIs can help where they were born any more than anybody else."

"Just want to make sure you two can take care of each other... just in case," Trevor explained, his expression shifting back and forth between attempting to play the sentiment off as unimportant and vague embarrassment at not being able to do so successfully. The Night Cycle was very important to him, but where that would normally make him protective and wary, it instead made him want to share that part of himself with Erin as well. "We haven't worked on a motorcycle before," he noted as he went about gathering tool and various sundries, "but most of the principles are the same."

Turning off the engine and dismounting, Trevor waited for the garage door to close behind them before pressing a small stud concealed in the bike's handlebars. With a faint ripple of electricity, the gleaming blue paint job resumed it's true, pitch black shade as the morphic molecules rearranged themselves. "Actually... I though maybe we could work on the Night Cycle," he suggested, clearing his throat with attempted nonchalance. "I was thinking, if you ever had to get any of them up and running in the field, chances are..."

Smiling behind his helmet's visor, enjoying Erin's weight on his back and arms around his waist. "Heh. Glad you liked them." The levitating daka crystal lanterns had been a bit of a last minute addition to the balcony dinner, but the demonstrative combination of function and form had seemed apropos for the occasion. Soon they were pulling into the Hunter Estate, gates rolling back automatically to let them in, as did one of the broad garage's doors.

"It's also extremely dull," Trevor noted dryly in response to Erin's diplomatic assessment of his plans. "I know. I keep enough liquid to give me some flexibility, but there aren't a lot of things I need, or trips I wanted to take on my own, and so on. Although..." He turned his head enough to look at Erin in his peripheral vision. "If you wanted to, when we have time... Well, this year's pretty different." Though awkwardly phrased, he hoped that the sentiment had been clear. "Gramps actually got on the phone with King M'Balla," the young man answered her question as they pulled into North Bay. "Got me set up with a line on some daka crystals, enough to experiment with, plus a good supplier for beans. World leaders' personal numbers evidently being a perk of the family business."

"Hmm? Oh, yes, definitely," Trevor agreed readily once he'd had a moment to process Erin's comment. There was no denying that it was quite a sum, he knew, but his own sense of monetary value was fairly skewed. "Usually just transfer the bulk of it back to my father to invest," he admitted. "Profits from the family portfolio pay for equipment, repairs, day to day costs, handful of charities, that sort of thing. Lot of emergent technology companies, which is a two birds, one stone sort of thing, obviously."

Between the artificially loud engine noise and the glossy blue paint job, the Night Cycle fit in perfectly with the more pedestrian vehicles, although Trevor had to remind himself to reign back on his more daredevil tendencies to maintain the illusion. "Oh, same as every year, fund transfer to one of my private accounts. The square of my age times a hundred." He shrugged his shoulders slightly to convey his expression without turning around. "It's actually quite whimsical, by my father's standards."

Trevor held up his free hand to reveal a set of keys as they walked, acknowledging that he'd had the same thought. Although he had to admit to himself that Erin's pickup truck was the more practical choice in certain circumstances, he still had a clear preference when it came to transportation. "Still a little brisk out, but won't be outside for very long," he reasoned, tucking his other hand into his jacket pocket, not incidentally pulling Erin a little closer as he did so.

Ah, right, right. Well, in that case, Grim should be up, then Silhouette! Grim > Silhouette > Wisp > Jill > Dragonfly > Sage > Fusion

Erin found Trevor already waiting in the common room, leaning against the wall by one of the doorways, his intentionally inconspicuous black jacket hanging unbuckled. "Fair enough," he agreed with a shallow nod and an amused quirk. "Choosing to take that as a vote of confidence from the cat." Straightening, he rotated smoothly on his heel to face the hallway and crooked one elbow outward to offer Erin his arm.

"Hey, I'm wounded, Sprouts!" Jack shouted back with an expression of mock hurt, placing a hand over his heart and leaning back slightly as if recoiling from a mortal blow. "When have you ever known me to be anything less than on my best manners?" Rising back to his feet, the swashbuckler balanced on Curl-bee's back, bracing his posture with one foot ahead of the other to account for the gentle downward angle.

"Heh, don't jinx it," Trevor chuckled, shaking his head a little back and forth and leaning gently into Erin's hand as she brushed his hair. Their respective schedules were tough enough to balance even without being constantly 'on call'. Still, at least going out to inflict violence and terror on the criminal element was one of the few professions a couple could work at together without it quickly going stale. "Just let me grab my coat," he told her, admittedly not making any immediate move to step away to do so.

Jack made an intrigued study of their surroundings and the work of the bees. "Huh. So that's how that works," he muttered largely to himself. Admittedly, he never given a considerable amount of thought to the specific going ons of a beehive, but it was interesting to see its construction from the inside. "Ha, things are getting all Magic School Bus up in here," he called over to Fleur, cupping his hands around his mouth to direct the sound against the background buzzing.

Trevor considered for a moment, the closeness of Erin's strong heartbeat making it difficult to think of compelling reasons to be elsewhere. "Just hanging out seems like a plan," he decided without pulling away, leaving his arm around her as they swayed leisurely back and forth. "Know we don't go out much, as such, but..." the young man admitted with a light note of apology, "but staying in sounds pretty good, honestly."

Alright, assuming everyone's seated the way Fusion suggested (and who's going to argue with her?), play should move from Grim left like so: Silhouette > Wisp > Jill > Dragonfly > Sage > Fusion > Grim W Si J G D F Sa Which means Silhouette is up first.