Gizmo
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"Well, uh... it was very... pretty?" Jill attempted, trying her best to be supportive. "Also fast? And sharp, apparently. Wow." Following Mara over to the painted circle, she stepped carefully over the various shards of mannequin scattered about. "I'm sorry, muñequita, I still don't think I'm getting it," she apologized softly, crouching down next to the inventor. "Why go to so much trouble to do it this specific way?"
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With a yelp, Jill hopped backward, her hands on Mara's shoulders as one of the metamagi's own force fields began to reflexively form around the pair in a shimmering blue bubble. The taller girl let the bioelectrical construct fade as if became clear that Dragonfly's safety precautions were holding, but still eyed the trashing wing harness warily as it whirled violently against its containment. "What," she intoned flatly, the word caught somewhere between question and statement.
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Notice check. (1d20+10=29)
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Midnight shook his head slightly, recovering from the Queens resonant intonation. "Could just sneak in. Knock him out," the young man offered absently, adjusting the earflaps of his ushanka. Glancing over at Fleur, he shrugged, a little defensively. "Be easy. Carry him back to the enclosure, deal with it there." It might not have been the most diplomatic approach, but it certainly had the edge in efficiency.
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Seeing Mara becoming flustered, Jill left her drink untouched on the counter and stepped around into the kitchenette proper to place a reassuring arm around the engineer's waist. "So show me," she suggested with a softer, warmer smile, tapping the index finger of her free hand on the tip of the shorter girl's nose in a fit of cuteness. Retrieving her soda, she nodded toward the garage area but waited for Mara to lead the way over.
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While Ellie laughed, perched atop Mona's arm, Erik related the events of the previous night with enthusiastic energy, gesturing animatedly to indicate the diminutive stature of the Christmas Crusader, the massive bulk of the jetpack equipped yetis, the surprising swiftness of the Nutcracker and the rocketing speeds of the repaired sleigh. His sister chimed in every so ofter to offer clarification or correct a slight exaggeration, but by the end of the story the elder Espadas sibling was balanced with one foot on the arm of the couch, plate of food precariously in one hand.
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"It's only really hard if you don't jump far enough," Jill drawled with a widening grin, cradling the opened bottle in both hands, her elbows still resting on the kitchen counter. "What's the deal with that, anyway?" the medic asked, her expression curious. "I've seen you be in two places at once, use those bigger-on-the-inside glove portal deals. How hard could making a jetpack really be for you?"
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Walking a few paces behind his Wander, Midnight grimaced underneath his featureless mask. Clearly this was going to be as bad as meeting the overly chipper extra Erin from the reality Mark's father had temporarily imposed. Catching the eye of the Young Paragons' leader, he subtly shook his head. There was no reproach in the simple gesture, just a note of sadness and a suggestion not to pursue the topic further. The Sages were evidently having a private, telepathic exchange, so Midnight left them to their devices and caught up with his hat wearing double. Noting the other black clad youth's position relative to the antsy, angrier version of Wander, he raised an eyebrow, shifting one side of his round, ruby goggles upward. Midnight responded to his counterpart's expression with flat, silent stoicism, causing the other young man's other eyebrow to join the first is muted surprise before he shook his head slowly in bemusement. In return, Trevor cast a brief glance back at the pair of white haired psychics. Looking back himself for a moment, Midnight offered only a slight shrug before turning his attention back to the path ahead of them. This time it was his doppelganger's turn to shake his head.
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Turning back around with a satisfied smirk, Jill walked over to the kitchenette. "One of these days you're going to see me in real-people pants and it's gonna be sad," she warned, leaning down to rest her folded arms on the counter top and considering. "Well, I'm impressed by the selection, but I probably shouldn't drink and parkour on the way home. Soda would be lovely." She gave the last word an exaggerated, haughty emphasis, affecting a high society manner.
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"Miss," Midnight reiterated politely to Beelizabeth in thanks as he smoothly made his way to the chamber floor after Fleur. Turning to the truly gargantuan being before them, the young man dipped stiffly forward from the waist. "Majesty," he greeted in his rumbling baritone, trusting it would be better to leave the bulk of the audience to the botanist the bees were already familiar with. If the queen was anything like human royalty, the last thing they needed was an accidental faux pas on his part. It helped that the entire scenario left him a little speechless.
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Jill looked about, taking a few steps past the kitchen alcove to get a better view of the bank of computer screens and assorted work benches. "So mysterious," she agreed wryly, casting her view upward at the high ceilings and loft like second floor. She's been back to Dragonfly's office at the Lab a few time in the past month, but this space felt like it belonged much more personally to Mara. Pausing, the taller girl placed her hands on her hips without looking back around. "So, you're totally checking out my butt in these pants, right?"
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Jill's grin beamed while maintaining a hit of her characteristic lopsidedness. "Hello yourself." Stepping inside, she placed a hand on Mara's hip, pulling her closer for a brief kiss as the warehouse door swung shut behind her. Stepping back with a pleased look, she quickly slid off her jacket and untied her mask, tossing them haphazardly in a pile by the door along with her fingerless gloves, reducing her tights and long sleeved back top to an approximation of civilian clothes. Looking about, she took in the warehouse's interior. "So, this is the Marbar Factory, huh?"
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Midnight reflected that his choice of hat for this trip had been fortuitous. Besides the cold, it would have been extremely difficult to keep his fedora atop his head while seated so close to Beelizabeth's rapid wings. He pointed silently down at the gathering of giant bees patrolling the relatively smaller structure, although there was little chance either Fleur or their ride had failed to notice. The sheer number of the massive creatures was an astounding sight, as was the great, mountain like hive.
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The cold weather and grey skies in Greenbank that late afternoon lent themselves to trudging slowly, hands in pockets, staring at feet. If one had cared to look upward, however, one might have caught a glimpse of a figure in crimson, black and silver leaping from rooftop to rooftop. The old railroad neighbourhood wasn't far out of the way of the West End's protectors, but even so it was unusual to see Jill O'Cure on patrol without her older brother. The young woman certainly seemed to be moving with a purpose, pausing only briefly at intersections to peer down at street signs below. Eventually, she made her way to an unremarkable looking warehouse with a sturdy curved roof. Sliding down a drain pipe into an alleyway, she quickly crossed the street and looked about, vaguely disconcerted. Well, this is the place. Unless I got the address wrong... With a deep breath, she located the buzzer by the front door and pressed it, looking over her shoulder with feigned nonchalance as she waited.
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"Suppose I'd better," Midnight answered Fleur, opening and closing his hands absently in the more flexible but less insulated gloves he'd switched to. Observing the massive bee hovering outside the door, the young man tired to recall any entomological facts he might have picked up during his studies. Not coming up with much, he simply tipped his ushanka forward slightly to Beelizabeth in a respectful gesture. "Miss."
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One of the survivors went exploring... Blocking some of the wind with one hand, Midnight called to the fretting bee. "Calm down. Please." Taking a deep breath, he decided to just roll with the situation for now. "I'll contact Fleur. Just... stay there for now." Leaping acrobatically down from the shed, he quickly retrieved the radio the botanist had described and relayed the situation to her. "Don't like use of 'squishy'."
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Midnight paused for a moment, taking a step back on the roof. ...the hell? He seemed to recall something from the news that summer about massive insects but he certainly hadn't expected to run into one, any more than he'd expected it to talk. Fortunately, the young man's considerable aplomb was only taxed by this turn of events, not broken. "Midnight," he replied indicating himself. "Friend of Fleur de Joie. Isn't here now. ...why?"
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What...? Doesn't sound mechanical. Looking about, Trevor ducked into the generator shed and knelt beside his stainless steel toolboxes. Ignoring the open case, he unlatched its twin, revealing a familiar set of equipment. Within moments, the featureless black mask of Midnight joined the utility belt as his waist as he moved swiftly back outside. The rough, organic nature of the shed's wall made it easy to scale as he perched atop its roof and scanned the area for the source of the buzzing.
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Without looking over to his friend, Trevor proffered a handkerchief produced from one on his suit jackets several concealed inner pockets. Naturally, the square of silk was pitch black. "Mmn," he grunted softly in agreement to Mark's sentiment, resting one hand over his chin and lower lip. Lost in his own thoughts though the youth was, behind his sunglasses his eyes never left the couple at the alter, even as one corner of his mouth turned upward in a faint smile.
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Trevor grunted quietly, looking between Stesha and the motley group for a moment. He didn't love the idea of leaving the pregnant woman alone, but he had to admit that in the middle of a forest she's grown herself, having him around wasn't going to make her much safer than she already was. "Right." With a curt nod, the young man exited through the rough hole in the wall and started back the way they'd come moving much more quickly this time.
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"They're survivors," Trevor spoke up at Stesha's caution. "They know how to ration." The comment was as much to remind the group that they need not be too dependent of their newfound patroness for everything as it was to gently rebuke their over taxation of the generator in the first place. "Should probably get working on that," he added, turning back to Stesha once she was finished sowing the substantial vegetable garden.
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"Cool," Jill replied, not even attempting to hide her satisfied grin as she continued to help gather the excessive amounts of food. If perhaps it took an extra trip or two to the common room to transport it all once she slipped one hand into Dragonfly's, that seemed a small price to pay. The temptation to draw things out further was strong, but the younger girl did have to get up for classes at Claremont in the morning, and after a goodnight kiss she redonned her mask and rode the elevator back down to the lobby, plastic bag of food in hand. Humming to herself, she still noticed the flat look the serious gentleman at the reception desk gave her, evidently still on duty well after the Lab was closed to the public. Making a short detour to the desk, she reached into her bag and placed a cylinder wrapped in thin paper in front of the surprised man. "Have a gyro!" she told him without explanation, then turned back toward the door, humming again, a slight skip in her step.
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His scarf up around his nose, Trevor raised his hands palms outward. "I'm just the mechanic. Mrs. de Joie is the one you're dealing with." Despite his nonthreatening posture, the set of his brows above his sunglasses suggested that if they attempted anything untoward, they absolutely would be dealing with him. "Will say this: you'd do well to trust her." That statement held no underlying warning or cool reserve. It was simply genuine advice.
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"Well, you'd better be calling sometimes anyway," Jill warned wryly, a little shyness creeping into her voice as she brushed at her unruly bangs, the pain from the fall quickly subsiding with any actual damage repaired. As some of the raw excitement subsided, it was beginning to sink in with a pleasant tingle of anticipation that this wasn't a singular event. Guess I know now why I never really looked forward to a second date before. Hee, 'date'. Her smile broadening, she looked over the desk still strewn with take-out. "Tell you what, let's find a fridge for some of this. And, uh..." The medic made a show of nonchalantly restacking cartons atop the pizza box. "I've got class tomorrow, but d'you maybe want to get together on Saturday? Could start on the language stuff?"
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"They were living in caves," Trevor pointed out as he followed her back. "Adding a basement to the enclosure might be an actual option. Gaian Knight could handle that." At least for the winter months, heating only an exit to the wilderness on the surface rather than the entire building would make a huge difference. It began to dawn on the youth why having an entire listing of super powered individuals she was on excellent terms with potentially made Stesha one of the most powerful or even dangerous people in Freedom City.
