15244/Pourly Thought Out

Pourly Thought Out
Date of Scene:	05 July 2023
Location:	Bru-HaHa Brews
Synopsis:	Balm, Silverdane, Phantasm and Bluebird show up to wreck some bad guys' days. The Trigger Twins are robbed of their side pieces, some goons are scared off, and Phoebe, for once, does not eject her stomach contents after portaling three people.
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, Belinda Gutierrez, Michael Hannigan, Harper Row

---

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The alert had gone out over Balm's contacts -- this wasn't an official Bat Job, so the Oriole had the night off. Instead, the dark gray and blue of Balm was loitering in an alleyway across from Bru-HaHa Brews, of course being a Gotham Themed establishment that aimed at attracting a certain clientelle.

    There's a couple of beat-up vans parked outside of it, one marked for the Brewery itself for distru-brewtion. Yes. The van is also marked with a pun.

    The building itself is non-descript. Old warehouse, was a hardware store in another life and now an overpriced restaurant where the insurance is weirdly high thanks to the likes of the third-and-fourth-string bad guys who like to hang out, complain about the Bats, and plan their next moves.

    It was, weirdly, the perfect cover to move contraband items; everyone was watching the front, it seemed, to make sure there would be no trouble. No one was watching the back.

    Andn so, Balm had reached out, seeing who was available on a Wednesday night to possibly get in a bar fight.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Silverdane, in her alternate guise, has been ramping up and working student life almost feverishly. Tests, part-time work, lending her hand to food bank efforts and distribution in New York-- occasionally with a moment or two caught to sleep. And devouring all the foods, snack and/or otherwise. As demonstrated now-- wolf's gleaming eyes stare at the building, every sense quivering, eager-- and just polishing off the last of a fourth bag of beef jerky sticks, tucking the spent wrapper into a pouch beneath her sash. No litter-wolfing.

"....vehicles in good shape," she remarks quietly, nostrils quivering. "They look.... rrf. So beat up. Junky. But oil, lubricants, things in engines-- these all smell new. Recent." She stretches on her belly, eyes laser-focused on the bar. "Am not mechanic, but... is normal in old trucks?"

Michael Hannigan has posed:
When one works a not so average job, one ends up with not so average days off. Tonight was a night off. In theory. But that does answer the question to whether or not Mike was available.

Mike is certain not all the details were given over the message. Although, when the general keywords of Gotham and warehouse are used together in a conversation and the person contacting is well aware of the person's involvement with getting certain people OUT of Gotham to avoid some mob mayhem, that seemed to translate one thing...

Wear a damn mask. And so Mike does put on the attire that one would generally attribute to a costume.

And then promptly shifted into the form of a Raven.

...

Well, better safe than sorry.

Technically in costume but not in a form where anyone would even notice, the raven has taken a slight 'shortcut' from New York to end up in Gotham. And soon a raven ends up swooping down and perching it's weightless form upon Phoebe's shoulder. The wing bends to give a bit of a feathery wave to the host of tonight's activities.

Harper Row has posed:
Bluebird has come prepared for trouble. Her guise is adorned and her gear charged. When she caught wind of the alert, it resonated, and she felt compelled to assist.

Approaching the others on stake-out, hook-boots helping down from a neighbouring roof, she tries not to make a sound. And in this company, that's a tall order.

Reaching up to apply some pressure to the side of her masked temples, she flips through a few optical options. Silverdane's comments have the corners of her mouth dimpling and obscured forehead furrowing. Not because she disagrees, but perhaps she's a little envious of natural abilities that don't need batteries. She says quietly, "At least they want them running well then, even if their...wrappers don't look so great. The nougat is fresh."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe can sense Mike's arrival, and she tilts her head a moment to give him plenty of room to land on her shoulder. "Hello, friend." she greets the bird like it's the most natural thing in the world. It's just not a bird that you typically find in Gotham, which has a booming Robin population.

    Silverdane gets a smile up to her, and looking back over to the vans she comments: "Well, old cars keep up pretty good if you take care of the insides. I know a Hell of a mechanic, he'd tell you." she states quietly, and then cracks her knuckles, giving a small smile and offering a fist-dap to the Bluebird.

    "Good to see you, Bluebird." she greets Harper, and then breathes out.

    "So the goal is to get in, remove any evidence of statues and museum pieces in their hands, and return the items to the museum contact for repatriation to their cultures of origin. Engage with any clients as little as possible especially if they're on the 'to arrest' list. And if any of the Big Name people show up, rule is we alert Batman and abort mission."

    She's still on training wheels, to a point.

    "The goal is to remove as many artifacts from Eastern Africa as quickly and quietly as possible. Any questions?"

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
The wolfwoman says nothing, but if Bluebird can attest to fresh nougat, Silverdane can certainly confirm it. Hence-- jerky. So much jerky. Though swiftly getting better since New York's affairs, appetites are still shaky. And eager. And most uncooperative. It would not do to have stealth ruined by a beast of a stomach growling to high heaven.

She flicks an ear towards Balm, listening just as intently as she nods with the faintest rumble. "Will stay outside," she promises again, "Overwatch. Will gather, inspect artifacts as we retrieve. Sniff out contraband, if any are using them to move guns, drugs, things." She sincerely hopes not-- the sight of an ancient Mesopotamian statue at the museum smashed to rubble to get at the drugs stashed inside was heartbreaking. "Will be on comms," she continues, "To answer call if needed."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
"We're playing Repomen, targets are artifacts. Don't cause a scene, and if big baddies show up, cut out and you will pass it on up the ladder." The raven sums up, the wing lowers as the head tilts, "...Is there a particular staging area to move the items to if we find more than one?" Doesn't make sense to take the FULL trip in the middle of things after all.

Harper Row has posed:
Bluebird actually considers pulling out some Snoofers, little plugs to help her sample the air, but the range is atrocious. And on second and third thought, the jokes about having some nose lobsters dampens her urge to try and compete. Clucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, she pulls out her railgun instead to make sure she's got a good quantity of non-lethal zaps.

Fist-daps done, she sets eyes on her comrades in crime fighting. There's a bit of a sting in that there's extra caution if a known uber-Mug shows, and they shouldn't pull out the claws. But this isn't her rodeo. Her voice grates, totally riffing on Bat-Dad growling, "Understood. Sneak sneak."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Careful or your voice gets stuck like that for a week." Balm comments to Bluebird. Nose Lobsters are now a thing her player will never get out of her head.

    And Balm, the resourceful person she is, holds up a canvas IKEA bag.

    "I'm not anticipating they have a lot of idols to move around. OR if they're bigger we'll just have to alert the Police they're here and hold the line.

    And with that, Balm pulls her hood up over her skullcap, keeping all her hair hidden, and makes her approach, drawing up behind the vans.

    That'll give Silverdane a place to sit in cover and provide backup.

    Next comes the back door. It's a quick little shift, a pick of a lock and then --

    BOOM. The backdoor opens, both sides being flung open and Balm getting whacked decently hard with it, and a pair of blonde middle-aged men in cowboy hats and matching Western-themed outfits loudly call back "YEAH YEAH!"

    "We're gettin' gone you lousy--"

    "Yeller-belled--"

    "SNAKE of a cheater at..."

    they pause, and both appear to look at the heroes.

    "... cards?"

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Silverdane accepts that she is sneaky... but not Bat-sneaky. That's just on a whole other level; experience in hunting the wilds of New Mexico just doesn't compare. More than a little envious. Sigh!

Following Balm, staying low to earth, the better to cloak her form in the shadows of vans. Not a perfect hiding point, but better than nothing. And a horrific surprise for any getaway drivers, should things go south. Balm to door, taking point. Marvelling at lock-picking skill!

Not so much at the Faux Cowboys.

"....Dios," Silverdane mutters under her breath. Classic plans-- scuppered on encounter with reality. "Crimes against fashion. If only they were arrestable!"

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Looking to the bag being shown, the raven gives a nod. Ok seems simple enough. The bird hops off of Balm's shoulders, flying up to the warehouse to make an alternative entrance into the building. Varying degrees of tangibility has its benefits. Also the Gotham mindset that doesn't seem to give a crap about actual birds getting into storage facilities.

It should be simple, Get into position, wait for the others to pop in down below and then deal with other issues. But... he wasn't quite expecting a pair of men playing cowboy already on the verge of leaving the building. Until the door slams that is. Well crap.

Swooping down from behind the bird flies over, seemingly standing in mid air as the wings reach over to their waistlines, feeding some of his power into the holsters.

Harper Row has posed:
Harper swings her weapon away and beneath her coat, making sure her hands are free. One gives Phoebe a thumbs up and sets her mouth into a grim visage, like the caped crusader. It's an interesting assortment of bipeds tonight, with the team make-up being pretty vivid, some literally winged.

she hunkers down and scuttles along like a gremlin approaching a fridge after midnight. Her pulse rises as Balm engages in some loosening of locks, B&E on the side of angels, but still all kinds of tingly to be gotten from the act. She bobs her and bites her lip, and ... she nearly bites through it by the surprise arrival of the two dudes.

"What she said." Bluebird grimaces and clenches her fists preparing for a showdown. "Howdy pardners."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Balm needs a minute, her head got knocked pretty hard and she's a bit flattened to the wall at the moment.

    The Trigger Twins reach for their sidearms, intent on unleashing some bullets into Bluebird (tho they recognize as A BAT!) and Silverdane (WHY IS THERE A WEREWOLF?!), and find that their hands have passed right through their guns.

    Matter of fact, they've stepped out of their holsters and bandoliers. They have no guns, no ammo, and with it... no way to defend themselves.

    There is a proper Gotham City Greeting of assorted four-letter words, and the two turn tail and trail back from whence they came, where there are a number of other people around a table playing cards.

    "WE GOT A PROBLEM!" one of them cries out.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
The werewolf snarls, fangs glinting as her eyes glitter. First instinct is to lunge-- restrained for a heartbeat even as she quivers, rising to her full height. Plan, search, lock onto thought--

<< "Moving in!" >> Silverdane snarls out, charging forawrd. Breath, quickening, blood racing-- she snaps a glance to Balm, a quick wince at the lump even as she moves. Distract. Catch eye.

And nothing short of the Bat himself appearing is more distracting than her!

Eight feet of fang and fury bursts through the doorframe, glaring at the assembled thugs, thieves, ruffians, ne'er-do-wells, and those atrocious Affronts to Fashion gesturing back at her. Standoff, stareoff. And only one answer.

Charging, with gusto and fury and a HOWL!

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Wings full of gun belts, the raven hops and slides across nothingness with the stolen accessories. With the pair of costumed men vanishing into the warehouse, the bird takes the brief respite to push the door off of Phoebe. "You okay?" He asks, dropping the acquired weapons into the IKEA tote.

Ok they're not quite antique but that style is pretty damn old af. Plus it'll make it harder for them to take the weapons back.

Harper Row has posed:
Bluebird is going to owe Michael a drink later. Or a nice corn on the cob. Her eyes don't bulge past her opaque eyelenses, but it makes her draw in breath and take a beat when they get disarmed so handily. "You sure do!" she brays and gives chase into the building after them.

They have a head start, but she lets them have it, reaching to her waist to pull out a set of weighted objects on a wire. Like she was cranking up a fidget spinner, she flicks it at the legs of one of the Cow-faux-boys. Thanks to having some well-honed situational awareness, she gets almost a front-row seat to Silverdane doing her thing. Her jaw hinges open some and she expells a breath. She'll unpack this later, to obsess over or jumpscare when dozing off. Gritting her teeth, she follows on the werewolf's heels to doing a flying fubar to the nearest thug that doesn't yet have a dance partner. "Giddyyyup!"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I'll live," Balm winces, and cracks her jaw back into place, and hops to her feet. The gunbelts and sidearms disappear into the canvas IKEA tote neatly, not even seeming to take up space inside as Balm pushes herself to her feet.

    She might give 'em to Red Hood. Surprise gift.

    Inside the brewery there are a number of people drawing to a stand, pulling weapons as Silverdane charges in. The Trigger Twins pick up chairs and try to launch them at Belinda to impede her progress as a woman wearing a flight helmet and goggles draws up her hand gun and fires a couple pot-shots at Bluebird!

    "Who invited the HEROES?" someone yells out, and then she's tackled by Harper with an 'AUUUGH MY SPLEEN!!"

    A couple of brawny goons with 'GEneric Henchmen' written all over their faces attempt to tackle Belinda in the process!

    Phoebe hikes the bag up and looks in at the brawl, and then she looks to the raven.

    "You wanna help me look for the artifacts or join in with the bruhaha?"

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Objective #1: Be scary, big, frightening.

Objective #2: Draw the attention and don't let it go for anything.

Caveat: Bloodshed is not an option, ever!

Flying chairs meet Silverdane's fists; smashing splinters and fragments provide a second's cover for the tackling assault of the first members of the Goon Squad. And the effect is much akin to a pair of skinny nerds tackling the all-star Quarterback.

A step back for the lupine hero, but otherwise...

"Points for bravery," she growls, glaring down at the two brutes at her waist, "...none for self-awareness."

She reaches down, gunfire igniting around her as she hefts the two. Tosses almost casual, she hurls the brutes towards the sidewall, howling with relish as the first bullets impact her torso. Wounds opening, closing just as quickly-- she grins a toothy grin, stirding forward with savage relish!

And a table or two, smashed underfist. Cards, chips, coins and dollars, flying everywhere!

Chaos.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Once the raven lets go of the belts, there is a bit more weight to the tote bag as they lose the loaned out ability. Amongst the shouting, the raven follows alongside Phoebe as she's shaking off the hard knocks. And then options are presented.

Trust the teammates.

"They're not caught off guard now." The bird states, "I'll help you look for now."

Harper Row has posed:
Bluebird rather likes to be the one taking shots from a distance, but she's going to rise to the occasion and lay a beat down when necessary. No time to admire the fetching goggles, she uses all the momentum to take her foe to the ground and lay into her tummy with a knee and to chuck her chin with her palm to show her some stars. "Bet it's spleen better days." she quips, spattering some spittle as she makes sure she's dazed or out before scrambling up and leaping to the next hench. Trying to take some heat off Belinda.

Any worry that Belinda might need extra backup seems to melt away. There's something very distracting about furniture being obliterated. "You go grrrl!" Still, she ducks to the side to avoid catching a bystander bullet, and leverages out her pew-pew. A slap and a twist and she sights on some baddies to launch a few precision rounds to make them do the hokey-pokey, albeit herkily-jerkily.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Good, take the high ground, I'll search low. I can feel 'em." Phoebe states to the bird, and she takes off. She begins opening coolers, make table doors, poking in boxes. She can feel them against her magical senses.

    Where are they at?

    Up above in the industrial rafters, there are a couple of boxes hidden away. Extra sauce cup lids. Someone's weed (it's not even good quality. Some people have no standards) and a couple of unmarked cardboard boxes that seem like they're humming. It's a bit like something out of Jumanji.

    Down below one of the goons goes flying, and smacks into the digital jukebox. It shudders. It clicks, reading a 'FREE PLAY!' banner, and begins on a German Tekkno Rock cover. https://youtu.be/AuBXeF5acqE

    "I STILL HEAR YOUR VOICE WHEN YOU SLEEP NEXT TO MEEEEEE--"

    THe goon shakes it off like a Swiftie, and giving a growl grabs a bottle from the table (Bru-HaHa's SourPuss Sour Grapefruit Ale), smashes it, and begins to take a swipe at Silverdane, meanwhile the Trigger Twins are doing the hokey pokey without their guns, thanks to Harper's Art of the Pew Pew.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Silverdane moves like a one-creature wrecking derby. Punch, slap, fist, smash a chair or table or hurl a thick glass beer mug at the wall-- she sucks up the bullets fired her as she goes, bunching her hands together for a two-fisted slamming against the counter and bar proper!

She blinks briefly as she feels... something? Someone punched her? She glances around, turning towards the Return of the Goon, eyes narrowing anew as she glances down at the broken ale bottle. Calmly, quietly, she turns back to him, deliberate as she reaches down for the glass. "Bravo," she remarks, the slash across her back already closing, vanishing with the barest shiver of fur. "But are crossing from 'brave' to 'mucho estupido' territory."

Taking the broken glass into hand, she brings hers together around it. Pressing her clasp together. *Crushing* with a sound like a gunshot, splintering glass, fragments utterly burst within crushing grip.

"/ GO AWAY /," she rumbles heavily, breath smelling of jerky and hot air and garlic. "Or I will bite you!"

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Assignment granted, the bird flies up, taking a shortcut. Upon reaching there, the bird flips forward, elongating and shifting into a more humanoid form. It's nothing flashy in terms of attire, just a lot of dark tones and darkness under the hood where the face should be.

Oh hey! Maybe this is the costume.

The cup lids get skipped over and the pot gets a momentary look.

Giving a shrug he continues on. The plot devices of unusual sound are soon considered and the dream entity shuffles over to check in the remaining boxes.

Harper Row has posed:
Harper tries to be ultra careful in the space, unsure of where the loots are, trying not damage the biz. She's gonna let the lupine let loose and tag whom she can with a tazer round if they put up further resistence. "You heard the lady." she shouts, swinging her weapon to sight upon different targets. "Take a hint, save your hide, keep all your appendages."

Harper gives her head a little shake, swearing she just saw a nasty gash knit back together along the 8-foot tall form. The supernatural still makes her itch, so devoted to the application of gadgets as she is. Her weapon hovers over that furred form for just a moment, like there's an instinct to keep ~her~ in sight as well. Because. Another quick series of blinks and her head is back on straight. "Head on out before you're only able to hop or hobble!"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The goon looks at the knitting wound. He looks up at Silverdane. And he considers his life choices that have lead him to this point. He takes a step back, and then another -- and then turns and Books It The Heck Out!

    "Dey don't pay us ENOFF for this!" he yells out, tailed by the gunless Trigger Twins, the blonde intending on making their way outwards as soon as possible!

    The remaining Generic Goon gives a grunt, and attempts to take out Harper from the side, launching himself at her and intent to trying to take a captive to ensure his safety!

    The remaining boxes are humming with energy, because there's a Roomba stuck in one. But they also include a number of different looking wooden, stone, and gemstone idol figures, some with enlarged lip discs, or gauges in ears, or rings along their neck.

    The Roomba's brushes provide the drumbeat.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Instinct screams to hunt fleeing targets, to pursue-- hunt relentlessly! Instinct flashing by, come and gone-- helped pass by the musical techno screaming from the jukebox. She adds a last tossed bottle to one of the fleeing Trigger Twins, opposite arm snapping out. Collar of jacket, of shirt, seizing hold!

"And we have winner....." she rumbles darkly, hefting the lunging Goon up from his feet. Twisting to face Bluebird, she keeps her grip on his collar, other arm wrapping tight around his torso, ignoring flailing arms. She grins toothily as she presents the goon forward-- perfect target for the gunslinger!

"Di queso!" she sings out, tail fanning. "Cheese!"

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike head tilts at the discovery. There are so many questions stemming from the running roomba in the box and most of them centered around the how and why. WHY is the roomba in the box? Why did they put it in turned on? How long was it in there? and How... HOW has it retained a charge for so long?!

Oh hey, non Gotham-esque statues!

Reaching into the box, Mike starts to pull out the statues. Arms full, he hops through the floor. Hopefully everyone's still preocuppied with the other bird and the wolf to bother noticing the guy falling through the floor.

Harper Row has posed:
Harper almost takes a step backwards, the opportunistic thug unceremoniously becoming a non-threat. Becoming a dangled punching bag actually! He totally had the drop on her if it wasn't for Belinda. Quick-thought quips die on her lips, flustered and wrong-footed as she is. It isn't every day you're presented with a perp-pinata. She grins crazily and obliges, jerking the business end of her weapon up to plant a non-lethal round dead-center. "Cheeeeeeeeez!" Bzzzzap!

She's owes a bunch of favours after tonight.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    There are many questions that we all have about life, the universe, and everything. Questions that deserve answers, but will never have them. Lost in time, like tears in the rain.

    And now they have a box of idols. The goon is suspended and shot, dead center, jerks a bit and goes unconcious.

    ... just as Gotham's Finest start their way down the road in response to a disturbance. There's a reason why Phoebe went 'Outsiders and Friends' on this and not bats.

    " -- all right -- looks like we have it. NIce work, Phant." Balm gives a grin, coming up to grab the box.

    And then she opens a portal, it's pretty and pinkish-orange.

    "All right -- everybody let's go before we have to explain this to Batman."

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
The werewolf holds Gooniata until he stops jerking, arms still twitching from the electric shock of the Bluebird's rounds. "Tingly!" she remarks, moving over to one of the last remaining tables of the bar. Because there are no chairs left.

Shrugging quickly, she drapes him over the surface of the table, leaving him there with a grin of decided mirth. A last glance around-- scent and sniff!

"I do not think we were quiet," she adds sheepishly, scuffing before she moves to the portal, and through. Pink. Magical.

Sparkly!

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Once Balm has hold of the box, Phantasm lets go, Like with the guns, the weight of the container becomes suddenly present once the loaned out energy is taken away. "No problem." He responds simply to Balm's thanks. He glances over to Belinda and Harper, giving them each a nod.

With no more threats to their wellbeing and the presence of a portal not of his own making, the phantasm's form shifts slightly. Darkness becoming-

Well darkness, but it's more of a fabricky darkness. Due to the lack of patterns on the clothing there's not much else to make the switch to 'human mode' more noticable.

Showing quite some trust to the other mystic, he promptly hops in the awaiting portal.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Pink. Magical. Sparkly!

    And dumps everyone out on a rooftop across from a bar in The Cauldren area of Gotham City.

    And Phoeb huffs a breath, hugging the box to her as she falls out of the portal last, and then keels over backwards.

    "I'm good! I'm good. Just need a minute. Lotta people portaling." she states, and gives a thumbs up.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Silverdane chuffs hotly! From one area to another-- only the second time experienced, but not so radical a shift this time. Still smells like city; still smells like Gotham--

Collapsing Balm! Caught off-guard, she nearly lets the poor girl fall completely back, moving in quickly with a grimace.

"Not shot?" she asks worriedly, kneeling down alongside. Fingers run across her sash, the belt hidden beneath. One, two, three-- "Have an aid kit," she adds, bending closer. Sniffasniff! No blood, did not fall to ohard, head... stil head.

THe limits of her medical training.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
The no-longer-a-raven turns, walking over to Phoebe. Coming to a stop, he crouches down beside her, giving her a long look. "Take your time." He comments, glancing to the box and bag. "Want me to carry that stuff for awhile?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Don't touch!" Phoebe warns, maybe a little more harshly than strictly needed, and then softer: "I'm all right, I'm all right --" No blood. No bad stuff, Balm waves one hand.

    "I'm okay Silverdane -- just portaling a lot of people takes it outta me. Especially giant-ass werewolves." she jokes, and sits up, looking to Phantasm, and she gives a slight smile. "I'll be all right. I can take it over to my apartment and bring it to the contact in the morning. It's right across the way."

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Silverdane gives a last careful glance, rumbling with a nod as she giggles quietly. "Alright," she finally amends, sighing as she takes her fingers away from the hidden pouches at her hip. "Wish I had something to offer," she admits, grumbling. "...ate all the meat sticks." Jerky. Sigh!

She glances at the bag of Ominous Items, keeping her hands free. No touch. "We can stay until feel better?" she adds, glancing back with a nod. "Can order take out! Belly Burger is open all night, yes?"

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Phantasm steps back slightly to the response. "Geez Gollum. You know I was carrying that earlier and handed that off to you, right?"

Well, technically she took it from him and he allowed it but To-Ma-to To-mAH-to... He sighs, and sits down next to her. "Well fine. I can just wait here til you rest up."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "That was a don't-touch-me, smartass." Phoebe states with no ire in her voice as she sits up.

    "Didn't want to set anyone on fire on accident."

    And then she looks out, and takes a deep breath.

    "I'll be all right. If anyone needs rides home, I can call cabs."

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
"Can manage!" the werewolf replies, grinning cheerfully. She sketches off a cheerfully sloppy salute, stretching gingerly before she rises to her full height. She nods to the others, exhaling a slow breath as she gazes up at the cloudy sky. She grins anew after a moment, eyes dancing as her tail moves.

"Is good night to run," she adds, laughing softly. "Shall go. Before Batman becomes unhappy." One can barely see the faint blush, teasing at her cheeks. "Is his territory. Even by invite explanation, I understand he is... grouchy? Sometimes."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
"I already got my own way home." Phantasm admits, "Although I probably should take a breather too before I use it."

When Belinda mentions Batman being grumpy, he turns his head, "He's not that... grouchy. Just not exactly a Golden Retriever type of personality." He pauses, considering it, "Maybe a Shiba Inu...or a Great Dane."