10288/Take Your Shot

Take Your Shot
Date of Scene:	25 February 2022
Location:	Queen Mansion
Synopsis:	Oliver gives Hella an archery demonstration.
Cast of Characters:	Oliver Queen, Hella Rokkurdisardottir

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Oliver Queen has posed:
Oliver Queen invited Hella to come by the manor for what he'd promised her already: a chance to see him fire a bow and arrow. He greets her at the door wearing outdoors gear, a stylized leather jacket with a bit of fleece in the underlining, boots and trousers. He also has a quiver of arrows strapped to his back sidewise and a bow hitched over his shoulder.

"C'mon around to the backyard. I have things set up for us there. It's good to see you," he says. He doesn't try to kiss or impose himself on her, but he does offer his hand to lead her along with him to the yard. There, he's set up a series of bullseyes at various distances.

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella arrives in a timely manner -- not too early, not late -- and she looks...much as she ever does. Completely casual in a baby pink t-shirt with a little smiling, blushing cloud decal at its center, the shirt straining over her body in certain places due to her muscular build, a pair of comfy-looking blue jeans, and a pair of white-and-pink Nike Air Force 1 lows. Her hair is pulled into two high ponytails, worn so close together that one likely wouldn't call them pigtails. It's an interesting look, to say the least. Especially for the weather and all.

    Hella smiles as she takes Ollie's offered hand, hers warmer than one might expect it to be, given her state of dress. "Hey," she says with a dimpled grin. "I'm glad to be here. Thanks for inviting me. Had a rough night, so I'm looking forward to this!"

Oliver Queen has posed:
Oliver Queen guides her along, "A rough night? Sorry to hear that. A lot of fires to put out?" he asks. He has a couple of chairs set up for them to rest if need be, slightly fancy lawn chairs with kickstands to put up their feet, along with a cooler set out with a mixture of soda, water, beer and hard lemonade. He didn't know her tastes and figured it was better to be prepared.

"I understand. It's hard to resist the exciting allure of archery, the nation's most popular sport," he teases. "Now, as for a bow strong enough for you, I'm not sure I have anything that would qualify in that regard. I do have one set out for you, purchased for the purpose, but it is still made for mortal men, so if you snap it in half, well, I still have the receipt," he says. "I also got these, though," he says, pulling out a large canister and setting it down to show a series of pointed sticks shoved out, "Ever try your hand at javelin?"

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella shakes her head in response, then reconsiders. "Well, in a way, yes. I don't know if you want to hear about it, so I won't force it on you. Just...it was rough night," she says with a soft sigh. The truth is, Oliver probably already knows to what she's referring, because the Justice League got the rundown on Booster Gold being buried under a cave-in for a whole week, until he was rescued by a Russian woman with wind-blown white-blonde hair, wearing pajamas but no shoes, who could fly. He'd been flown to a hospital where it was discovered that he had broken ribs, his face was busted up a little, he was severely dehydrated and starving. He's now in stable condition in the hospital.

    She laughs softly, making her way to one of the lawn chairs and examines the fancy thing. "I am very excited, never mind rest of nation. It will be exciting for me," she says with a decisive nod. To the mention that he got her a bow, she moves over to inspect the weapon in question with eager eyes and grabby fingers, itching to test just how much she has to hold back to avoid breaking it. "I have. My family fights with javelins, sometimes," she nods. "My aim is okay, but is more for fun than for real, because they tend to shatter when they hit us, the javelins," she says with a crooked grin, lifting a javelin and wobbling it in place in her firm grip. "Shall I try to throw?"

Oliver Queen has posed:
Oliver Queen nods and doesn't pry, indeed. He did hear some of what happened with Booster and, while Hella wasn't named specifically in the report, descriptions of her abilities and the fact that it involved Booster made it pretty clear who it was that intervened. "We'll see if we can make things a little better," he says simply.

He crosses his arms as he watches, "Feel free," he says. "If you need, I can move the targets out further, I know you can throw things probably far enough to hit the moon or something like that," he says. "You can almost do that if you attach a rocket to an arrow, but it usually runs out of fuel," he adds. Which is a weirdly specific thing to know.

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella laughs at the offer, shaking her head. "My aim isn't /that/ impressive, I don't think. This is first time in /long/ while I try to hit target with something other than fist or big object that won't miss. I will probably miss entirely! But, don't laugh. Will only fuel my competitiveness," she grins broadly.

    Hella plants her feet in the spot where Ollie gestures for her to stand, her legs apart, her gaze narrowing as she tries to zero in on the target. She lifts the javelin, holding it up above her shoulder, and draws back her arm. Then, she shoots her arm forward, sending the javelin soaring in a line that quickly becomes a downward sweeping arc. "Ah, shit," she spits to herself, watching as the javelin pierces the sod. It's going so hard and fast that, once it breeches the surface of the lawn, it drives forward beneath it, burying itself in the grounds, like a splinter under the skin. "Tch!" she says. "I will do better next time!"

Oliver Queen has posed:
Oliver Queen shakes his head, "First shot after some time away, nothing wrong with a little rust. I've thrown a few of those, it isn't easy. I imagine it's even harder when you can't throw with the full force of your strength," he says. "But better that you don't. Even if it didn't go that far, there are a couple of other mansions down here. I'd hate to have Mrs. Dowling sue me because you accidentally skewered her corgi," he teases.

Then he turns back to the targets and, with a startling rapidity, fires off four shots, one after the other. His motions are smooth and fluid, automatic and impossible to follow with the naked eye. Each arrow flies far and straight and true, hitting the bullseye dead center.

"I've been practicing," he says with a flex of eyebrows.

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella smiles, at first. She's happy to hear Ollie out, appreciating the gentle way he comforts her in the face of her failed attempt! However, when he makes a joke about potentially skewering a dog, she looks horrified. "No. Is possible I could have killed dog?!" she sounds sick over it, her expression matching the tone in her voice.

    Despite her horror, she is nevertheless /impressed/ by Ollie's speed AND accuracy. "Holy shit, Ollie," she breathes, her face a mask of surprise. "Did you drink lots of Red Bull today?" she asks with a half-grin. She runs up to the target and checks to see just how exact his aim was, and she looks even more impressed when she comes back. "I feel like is talent, too. Practice helps some, but talent must be there to hone; yes? No hope for me, if so," she laughs.

Oliver Queen has posed:
Oliver Queen shakes his head, "No, no, I was just joking. She never lets those dogs outside. She's probably trained them to poop in the toilet. More likey you'd hit the gardener. Poor Jesus," he says, the tone of his voice making it clear that he's still teasing.

"Practice helps a lot," he says. "When I really got good, I didn't have anything else to do. No distractions, no entertainment. Just me and the bow. And a lot of unpleasant circumstances," he says. "I had to get good or die. And, well...here I am," he says. He draws again and fires, this time richocheting the arrow off of one of the already bullseyed arrows to diagonally hit one of the empty targets - once again, dead center, albeit this time at an angle.

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella relaxes immediately, her tense shoulders dropping and a relieved sigh escaping as Oliver eases her worry. Then, he mentions Jesus and she playfully scowls at him. "Youuuuuuu..." she shakes her head and laughs. "I would hate to hit anyone with javelin, so maybe I shouldn't throw, again!" she says, still a little concerned there /could/ be danger of that sort.

    Then, she's interested, seeming confused. "...or die?" she asks, blinking. "What kind of situation is that? Hunger games?" she wonders. She turns her gaze to look at the arrow as it's fired off, and she whoops excitedly as it lands in the center of an entirely different target! "Whaaaaaaat? How you get this good? Are you mutant?" she grins.

Oliver Queen has posed:
Oliver Queen shakes his head, "Not as far as I know. I suppose it's possible. It does seem to run in the family," he says. "Not exactly Hunger Games. But not exactly not. I was stranded on my own for a long time. And when I wasn't on my own, the people who came weren't exactly nice," he says.

"Since then, I've tried to use my skills to help people, make the world a better place. Occasionally fight a crime boss or two," he says. "I'm afraid you found yourself another superhero."

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella smiles, sitting down on one lawn chair because she feels awkward about just standing there, doing nothing but grinning at her handsome host. She listens with interest as he talks a little about the time he was stranded in a place where Hunger Games-like things happened, for real. "Holy shit, Ollie, where were you stranded? Did you go back in time or something?" she asks, realizing that kind of thing IS possible and not just cuckoo talk.

    Hella's brows lift up higher than ever and her eyes widen. "Another..." she says stiltedly. "You are superhero, too?!" she asks, rising from her seat. "I... How?" she laughs, looking confused. "Maybe I have mutant power to summon superheroes?" she grins lopsidedly, her dimples popping up.

Oliver Queen has posed:
Oliver Queen nods, "An island. It doesn't have a name, not a real one. Nobody ever lived there, properly. Different groups have used it as a base, hidden themselves there, but it wasn't really theirs. I suppose it was mine, for a time, until I found a way back to civilization," he says.

"I think heroes tend to show up at things like emergencies and fundraisers for people in need. Things a firefighter is likely to cross paths with quite a bit. Especially superstrong firefighters who fly," he says. "Even amongst a place with Spider-Man handing out chili dogs and Ms. Marvel signing autographs, you stood out."

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella's expression is intent as Oliver speaks on his experience on the unnamed island a little more. She takes a breath and cocks her head, asking, "Should we go there and clean out island of evil-doers?" She is entirely serious, too.

    She smiles a little shyly as he compliments her as standing out, even with Spider-Man and Ms. Marvel... And, Reed Richards, too! "Aw, Ollie. That's just 'cause you liked shape of my gib," she says, grinning crookedly as she gets the idiom wrong. "You also probably already know those other superheroes, so wasn't so exciting for you, huh?" she smiles. It might be of special note that, despite him telling Hella he's a superhero, she's not pushing to know who, though she could /probably/ put the pieces together, if she tried hard enough. She's trying to respect his privacy, though.

Oliver Queen has posed:
Oliver Queen shakes his head, "I already took care of it. Although I suppose someone else could've moved in since I did. Hives of scum and villainy tend to recur, one way or another," he says.

He grabs another javelin and tosses it over to Hella, "I know a lot, but not everybody, not by a long shot. I don't know Spider-Man, although I'd heard of him. Seems like a good kid, from what I can tell. I do know Booster and Beetle, although not super well," he says. "They're somehow even worse about keeping secret identities than I am. Well. Booster's secret is probably his actual name. Which I don't know, come to think of it," he says. "I go by Green Arrow."

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella, who'd been hoping Oliver would agree to her offer, is slightly glum when he says he already had that fun. But! Her smile returns when he notes it could've filled up, again. "So, that is maybe, then?" she asks with a hopeful note in her voice.

    She catches the javelin with one hand and smiles as he speaks on the supers he's familiar with, or a few of them, at any rate. "Probably sad to admit, but I don't know Booster's real name, either. In fact, I didn't know Booster /wasn't/ his real name," she says with a wry expression on her face. And, then, she lets loose with another toss of the javelin in her hand. WOO~! She makes contact with a loud /thunk/! But, Hella's not even looking at it because Ollie's outed himself as a very famous, well-known superhero. "You... you're the GREE--" she cuts off her initial intinct to yell and continues in a hushed shout, cupping her mouth as though that might make it less obvious to anyone who might be looking. "...**Green Arrow**??" Her jaw drops, "No way. How is life letting me meet so many awesome people?"

Oliver Queen has posed:
The javelin hits the target fairly close to center. IT also hits it with enough force that it causes the thing to flip and roll, over and over again, tumbling end over end until it ends up with the blunt base of the javelin stuck into the ground and the target up on top with the point jutting through it, waggling back and forth like the tail of an eager dog.

"Damn," Ollie says, clearly impressed. "I think you killed it," he adds. At the reaction to his name, he does look down a little bit, not quite bashful but certainly a little smug about getting a good response. He has worked his ass off to build his reputation, after all. "I think you're pretty awesome, too, so it's kind of like magnetism. Except I think that makes opposites attract, so...reverse magnetism? Is that a thing? I don't know. We'll ask Ted sometime."

"I guess his real name could be Booster Gold, but that just seems...I dunno. I've always thought it sounded kind of like a brand of washing machine myself, so what do I know?"

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella's attention shifts from staring in wonder at Ollie to staring in shock at what she managed to accomplish. "Wooooooow," she exhales in one long breath. Then, she is /celebrating/ by punching a fist in the air and rocketing her elbow back toward her body in a massive fist-pump "HELL, YES, HELLA!" she says jumping up and down! "That's how you DO thing, bay-beeeee," she crows. She really did grow up around too, too many boys.

    She pauses in her victory shuffle to look sheepishly at her host, realizing what she's doing. "Ah...." she laughs embarrassedly, "...I apologize. I was surprised. I don't have good aim, really," she says with a shy little grin and a tiny shrug. Probably not the most attractive of ways to behave in front of someone you just started dating, but...she rolls with it. She is who she is and Ollie will have to appreciate that, or she'll have to move on!

    "You know, let's not ask Ted. Let's ask Google, instead, or something," she says with a grin. She's been wanting to spend less and less time around Ted. And, after what he did yesterday evening, she's pretty okay with not seeing him for a long time. "I am very mad at him."

    She laughs at the comment, shaking her head, "Now, is all I will think about when saying his whole name. Booster Gold just seems like very long name for supername. I thought is supposed to be short, sweet, simple. Spider-Man, Superman, Wolverine, Green Arrow. Discord."

Oliver Queen has posed:
Oliver Queen can't help but get a grin on his face at Hella's celebration. He's not laughing at her, though. If anything, he knows how good it can feel to hit that kind of shot when you don't expect it. It's a joy he doesn't get as much, anymore, simply because his level of skill, but it was chasing the high of that feeling that helped get him good in the first place. That and, again, not dying and having food to eat.

"Spider-Man and Booster Gold have the same number of syllables," he points out. "I just never quite got what it meant. I think he explained it to me once and I completely spaced out. Just in one ear, out the other," he gestures. He's not going to push on the Ted thing. Sounds like a big ball of none of his business.

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    What if Hella could use a sympathetic ear for talking about her frustrations? Well. It's a moot point. She doesn't really want to dredge up all that anger, right now, when she's feeling good and pumped over her success! She can't help but flex her shoulders and arms a bit as she feels herself. She tries to do this surrpetitiously, when Ollie's not looking, but...he's sneaky at catching looks when she thinks he's not!

    She nods her head, "That's true. But, Spider-Man is descriptive. Is what he is. Man and spider, together. What is Booster? Booster shot? Booster seat? Booster like rocket? Maybe is rocket. Gold seems like could be surname, too, though. Golden Rocket. Skeets is little rocket-looking robot-friend," she says, smiling as she thinks of the little guy. "He is very badly damaged right now and I keep him at my home until he can be repaired, poor Skeets. Flew so far, took him so long," she sighs, looking at the ground. "Anyway!" she says briskly, trying to shake off the blues. "Would be bad form to ask how I can train to become better shot? Never would I hope to be as good as you, but being more accurate would help a lot, I think," she smiles brightly.

Oliver Queen has posed:
Oliver Queen likes watching her flex a little bit. Not his fault he enjoys the form of the lady. She's aesthetically pleasing, in a wide variety of ways.

Oliver nods, "Yeah, the little robot thing. I think I've seen that before. Kind of like a drone," he says. "And no, it's not bad form at all. Except in the sense that some of your trouble kind of comes from your form. Here," he says.

He walks over to Hella and steps up behind her, his chest against her back. Despite her musculature, he's still taller than her by a fair bit as he puts one hand on her arm and another on her wrist, "It's about maximizing thrust," he says, almost into her ear. "Getting the angle just right so that when you let to, the point goes exactly where you want it to go."

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella smiles as he talks about Skeets, and she nods her head. "Him," she corrects mildly, when Oliver calls Skeets 'that.' But, she leaves it at that. What a shame Skeets doesn't come with futuristic action figures that behave similarly, because she'd love to own one that would hover around after her and purr when she holds it, too.

    Hella doesn't resist Ollie's gentle guiding, her body warm against his, especially where his skin touches hers. She smells like coconuts, vanilla, maybe some lime. All fresh, clean scents that are warm and soft, comforting. Her hair, soft against his cheek as he presses close behind her.

    Her heart jumps into a higher gear and her temperature spikes a bit as adrenaline and...more...courses through her. Ollie might imagine there's an almost palpable pulse of warmth that spills out all around her. He smells so good, too. She has to focus on what he's saying, but his closeness is so enticingly distracting! Her reply is soft, a little sleepy-sounding as she nods her head, "Mmhmm, get angle just right..."

Oliver Queen has posed:
Oliver Queen is, of course, fully aware of what he's doing. He takes in her scent and closes his eyes for a moment, letting it tantalize him. His own cologne is sharp and woodsy, a rich smell that bespeaks open spaces and clean air. Maybe a hint of mountain crispness. At least that's what it said on the bottle. Just smelled like cologne to him.

"Then, when you're poised, you take all that potential and you push sharply, explosively, in one movement. Just snap your elbow closedl," he says. He moves her arm in that direction slowly, giving it a sharp little pull at the end to emphasize the sn ap. "That's where the thrust comes from."

"You think you got it, or should I go over it again?"

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella's cheeks pinken at the sensation of Ollie being so very close to her, his body molded against hers in an (entirely innocent) attempt to teach her how best to work on practicing to have better aim. Anyone else witnessing her expression would maybe put it down to the chill of the winter air, but...those who know her know she doesn't suffer any ill effects from such mild coldness. It would take considerably lower temperatures to begin to affect her negatively.

    She tries to regain her composure, her eyes hooded with the influx of chemicals swirling through her blood. Oliver is telling her very useful information. Focus, Hella! She swallows thickly as he emphasizes the snapping motion, tugging her arm sharply. "Yes..." she agrees. "Very nice thrust," she murmurs.

    Not wanting Ollie to move away, she waits only a beat before she replies, "Again."

Oliver Queen has posed:
Oliver Queen might not bear scrutiny on the 'entirely innocent' part, but he'll do his very best poker-face if asked about it. He repeats the motions and the mantra, his deft fingers cupping her at the elbow, arranging the angle of her arm and giving that bicep a squeeze, "I'm never going to brag about my muscles again. You put me to shame," he says.

He urges her to follow through, with him standing close at hand, feeling the rush of air as she puts her power into the throw, "That's more like it!" he says.

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella tries harder to pay attention, this time, actually retaining some of the information. Find the right angle, aim, throw from the elbow... She smiles to herself as he squeezes her bicep, laughing at his compliment, "I have unfair advantage, Ollie. Don't feel shame. Your body seems very strong." From what she can feel, anyway. It's not like he's worn particularly tight clothing any of the times she's seen him, so that's all she has to go on.

    She takes in a deep breath, steadies her nerves, and throws on the exhale, snapping her elbow as he taught her. It's a powerful throw. Maybe more powerful than before, because she's a bit jazzed up, right now. It lands! /THUNK!/

    "WOO!" she hoots, fist pumping, again! "YES," she says, turning a look of bright-eyed enthusiasm on Ollie. "Thank you for help. I will try to include in training, from now on," she says, planting her hands on her hips, looking very heroic, despite her cutesy little t-shirt.

Oliver Queen has posed:
Oliver Queen smiles, "We'll do a few more reps. The more you do it, the more it's going to become something you do on instinct. That's a thing I've had to learn - when you're out there in the midst of the furor, you don't always have time to think too hard about what you're doing. Muscle memory goes a long way when you have to make snap maneuvers," he says.

He'll guide her through a few more javelin throws then, perhaps reluctantly, shift his place from up against her to take a few more shots of his own, this time on a long target, clustering arrows together at the center from hundreds of yards away.

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella smiles in reply to Ollie's smile. She nods her head agreeably, happy to take both his direction and also his closeness for as long as he's willing to give them. She follows his directions and throws a few more times, landing most of her attempts, considering she has his help in correcting her aim. The targets look a real mess, now, though.

    Hella nods her head as he speaks about muscle memory, "That is what I hope to gain. I am like wrecking ball, hit hard, very hard... But, sometimes, unpredictable with aim. If I practice hard, I will become more precise, and more effective. Thanks to your guidance." She smiles warmly. She watches as he aims at one of the only targets that's upright -- one that's far afield -- and she cheers as he successfully hits the target from so far away. 'Course, she doesn't have super sight, so she can't tell just how well he hit the target, but it's still damned impressive!

    She waits for him to lower the bow before moving close. When he'd stepped back, before, away from her, he probably felt the cold more keenly from the loss of her bodyheat. Now, though, the warmth comes swirling close, again, gradually dispelling the chill. "I hope you won't mind if I..." she says with a little smile, "...get that hug you owe me?" She's very close, now, her head tilted back so she can look up at his face, in his eyes. "You don't mind, do you?" she asks with a dimpled grin.

Oliver Queen has posed:
Oliver Queen keeps his cool, which isn't easy under that sudden onslaught of warmth. He isn't somebody who sweats much, at least not without a ton of exertion, but she's got him in the brink of it and not just from the temperature. He regards her directly, his blue eyes catching hers. He's a little unshaven, a hint of stubble along the square of that jawline.

"Wouldn't dream of denying you," he says. His arms slide up and drape over her shoulders, cupping the back of her head and pulling her cheek against his chest. It emphasizes his height, despite her power, letting him treat her as almost petite. He lays his chin atop her head and strokes his other hand over her back. He feels those strong, strong arms wrapping around him and there's a trust in it, too, because shse could crush him with ease, but he knows she won't.

"Anytime, babe."

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella smiles up at him as he regards her with those blue eyes, similar to hers, but deeper in color, richer. She closes her eyes as he pulls her into the embrace, her arms encircling his waist while his hand cups the back of her head. She enjoys the return of the closeness, the feeling of his body against hers, the scent of him -- cologne and otherwise. She takes in a deep breath, trying to form a really solid memory that she'll be able to recall later on, when she misses him.

    Her embrace feels secure. She's not gripping even remotely hard, not a bear-hug even, but an embrace. Something gentler, more intimate, and lingering. She nestles her cheek againt the surface of his zipped-up jacket, wishing it was his skin. Surprised to find herself thinking such things. "I like this," she murmurs. "Do we have to stop?"

Oliver Queen has posed:
Oliver Queen shakes his head, "I don't have anywhere to be," he says. He lets the embrace linger for a good, long time, enjoying the way she feels against him, the way she smells, the way her powerful arms wrap around him.

"I am going to have to go to the bathroom at some point, though. That's just nature," he says with a wry grin.

When they finally disengage, he reaches up and tucks a stray wisp of hair behind her ear, "How're you doing? Too overheated? I don't want you going off by accident and turning me into Doctor Doom," he teases.

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella smiles and just allows herself to enjoy the hug while it lasts, relishing the feeling of the cold air bouncing against her hot skin. "Ha ha ha," she says with an actual laugh. "Please, warn me before you do, so I can step away and avoid getting wet," she retorts with her own teasing joke.

    She releases him with a smile, stepping back reluctantly, but knowing that they can't just stay hugging for as long as she'd like. It's also kinda awkward, just standing and hugging outdoors. "Believe me, Ollie. If I get too hot, is you who will know before me. I can tell only by how fast and hard heart is beating, how pumped up I am. Also, when things start sizzling next to me, or people say, 'OW, WHAT THE FUCK?' when I touch them. You know, that old thing," she says with a crooked grin.

    She pauses and says, "Mama told me there is something I can give to people I care about and am worried I might hurt them with heat. I think I might give one to you to hold while we date. Just in case," she says with a little grin, her eyes shyly dropping away.

Oliver Queen has posed:
Oliver Queen lays a hand lightly on her chest, "Heart seems to be doing okay at the moment. Clearly I need to up my game," he says wryly.

"I think I would like that. I had already started poking around for something like that myself, but my magickal connections aren't exactly top notch. I have no idea how long it would take to pay off. And while I have no problem being patient, I don't know that I -want- to wait...too long," he smiles.

"C'mon, let's go in the house and get something to eat."

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella grins and shakes her head, "Hug was comforting, calming. You should've felt heart when you were teaching me better form for throwing javelin." She loops her arm around his waist as she begins walking alongside him toward the house proper. "Or, you could've left hand on my chest for few seconds more and maybe felt heat surge," she grins crookedly.

    "Oh?" she says with interest as she walks with him. "Please, keep pursuing, just in case. Also, because I desperately need suit charm. Need suit even more desperately. First time, rescuing in pink overalls, yesterday in ripped jammies..." she shakes her head. "This is not reputation I hope for," she laughs.

    "I don't want to wait too long, either. I'm also very hungry," she says with an amused note in her voice. In more ways than one, perhaps.