976/The Rasputin Family, Da-Da-Da-Dum, Snap Snap!

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The Rasputin Family, Da-Da-Da-Dum, Snap Snap!
Date of Scene: 04 April 2020
Location: Pugsley Creek
Synopsis: Piotr learns the truth.
Cast of Characters: Illyana Rasputina, Douglas Ramsey, Piotr Rasputin




Illyana Rasputina has posed:
For Pugsley Creek, there needs to be a Wednesday Addams. Too bad they lack a creepy little girl wearing her midnight black hair in twin coal-dark braids leaking over a Victorian jumper with ruffly white blouse. Instead Xavier's School has Illyana, and instead of wearing her hair in twin braids, she is currently dangling from a rope. Several of them set up through the trees give an ideal place for the more adventurous-minded students to risk life and limb running through an obstacle course that just popped up in the last few days. Ziplines trace deadly courses through the forest, zigzagging between the trunks to perilously narrow, but solid wooden landings, while other hemp varietals dare participants to scramble army-style through the foliage or plunge to their peril in the creek or the lake. The water is chilly as hell, but it beats falling onto the soil. Not many nets around, either.

Of course, by Illyana's standards, this is a bloody walk in the park since no crossbows are shooting at her. Neither are pits of lava or pongee sticks waiting for her to misstep on oiled, greased lines while pursued by hungry manticores and beasts without names in most terrestrial daemonological bestiaries.

Therefore, the idea here is fun! Fun and exercise. Fun and being chased by illusory monsters (if Dani were on the course, anyway); or trying to beat the local time. A chalkboard notes how fast the different coloured paths have been taken, but with so few testing their mettle so far, the comically drawn faces with magnets are pretty much a set of four or five people.

See, now Scott cannot complain that his teams and students aren't hogging the Danger Room, but also constructively trying to kill themselves while getting fresh air.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug is actually not bad on the ropes -- he works hard at it -- but right now he's on the ground, following Illyana with a stopwatch while practicing his cross-country running at the same time. He suffered the humiliation of rope day in gym class just once as a youth, and then never again. Never. Again. He bounds over a tree trunk, his t-shirt tied around his waist and he reaches up with a black and gold techno-organic hand to adjust his headband.

Huff, huff, "That's good Illyana, keep it going!" Huff, huff, huff, "Don't stop!"

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
Piotr received the message from his sister to join her at Pugsley Creek. The elder Rasputin has since made his way to the area in a t-shirt and shorts, not bothered by the cold. He takes a few moments to looks over the chart and calls up as he catches a glimpse of the two. "A time trial? Is that what you wanted me here for?" Piotr grins and nods to Doug in greeting as he runs by. He steps back and tries to stay out of the way for the moment as they continue the course.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Illyana is upside down, one leg wrapped around the rope, the other knot at the end perilously close to being wound over her wrist in a way that's completely unwise. It invites entanglement or, at worst, a broken neck. Except that the swinging pendulum arc is exactly why the inverted sorceress is the way she is; she needs to use speed and momentum to spiral herself through the air to hit a tricky platform out of reach. It would be so much faster to teleport, but teleportation doesn't work the abdominal muscles or cause the quads to burn with the inferno of protesting lactic acid. So there she is, assessing upside down on the violent swing of the rope before she has to hurl herself free. At least she hasn't opted to perform this backwards.

Three. Two.

Piotr.

"Da!" The Russian affirmative is met as she flings herself free of the the hemp entanglement, her oscillations sufficient enough to get her tumbling Cirque-du-Soleil with a death wish style. She goes hurtling through the gap in the trees, almost striking one of the trunks. Not the one she wants, though. No, the one she wants requires hitting just right, somersaulting to land upright on it. Just for a moment, because the rebound would knock her off into the bushes about twenty feet down. Instead, she has to figure out how to get to the platform below or the wires above. Free run up, drop down. Stinging palms and sliding feet don't give much choice. Scramble up, which has her clinging in place. "Ungh, that would be it. And you are a stranger, big brother."

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Piotr. Doug had prepared himself for this one, one way or another, but seeing him again is always just a reminder that Doug is 5'9" and a buck-fifty and Piotr is... not.

He stops with one foot on a tree trunk and then reaches down to nonchalantly untie and re-tie his running shoe for a better fit. "Piotr." He says, "How've you been?" He looks up at Illyana and then grabs his water bottle to take a pull from it. "All right," he says, as if it isn't already happening, "Take five, Shanna the She-Devil."

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
Piotr winces and nearly move to where he thinks Illyana is going to fall, but decides to trust her for the moment. Also to him it seems like Doug is there in case something does go wrong. Once everybody is somewhat safe, the large man says, "I have no intention of being a stranger, just been busy with classes, the trouble with the first year of teaching, making the teaching plans." He laughs to himself and then turns to Doug, "Well enough, and you? Hopefully my sister is not causing you too much grief?" He then turns and looks up at his sister clinging to the tree, "Do you need help getting down?"

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
"Oh, you know," Doug says, "She can be a lot but we like her just the way she is," He gives a little bit of a laugh, and then he clears his throat, and calls out to Illyana, "I got the granola bars you like, the ones with the chocolate covered peanuts!"

He sticks his hands in his pockets and says, "So, Piotr... how've you been? I uh." He rubs the back of his neck, "...It's been rough, with everything that happened in Genosha -- you... might want to talk to Kitty. Her dad didn't make it out and she's been taking it really hard."

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
Piotr nods, "That's nice of you to bring her those." He blinks at the laugh and throat clearing, "Is something wrong?" But that momentary confusion is ended when the topic shifts. A frown crosses his face as the Genosha news is brought up, "That is..." a sigh, "terrible. I will try to speak with her, then. There is no good that has come from that tragedy." He hangs his head a moment and then continues, "But we must go on, whatever happened there can happen anywhere. So we must be vigilant."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Said blonde takes her time traversing the zipline course without aid of the zipline rocker, instead using a scrap of oily cloth left up there for the purpose. Right, make do with what you have, right? She hoists it over the greased cable and holds on to both sides, using a short running kick to get herself in motion. And she does move... about two feet. Illyana swings back and forth to get some kind of momentum going, while Doug has small talk with her seven-foot-tall brother and, you know, tries not to die. "Thank you!" she shouts back about the granola bars, still forcing her way down the line, one lithe swing of her body at a time.

Look, it's going to take a while unless Piotr climbs a tree or flings Logan or Doug at her to knock her out of that vulnerable perch suspended high above the ground. The wires aren't going anywhere, and sheer tenacity moves her along with considerable strength and agility buried in that form. She isn't even cheating yet by dropping a portal and reappearing as a tightrope walker. No one sounds like they're screaming or letting steam out through lamellar plates. So slide herself along she does, using the weight of her body to swing up and lock her legs around the wire, one that vibrates with an increasingly bouncy, harmonic resonance. Have girl, will support. Only then can she start climbing.

All this to say she's evil and she is running down the clock.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Listen, he's not inclined to squish YOU. Doug looks up at Piotr, and rubs the back of his neck. "But all told, Illyana's pretty good..." He pauses. "Illyana, would you hurry the heck up or I'm going to eat your share of these?"

He offers one to Piotr.

"Granola bar?"

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
Piotr nods, "I am glad she is back, and thank you for helping her with this. You are a good friend to her." He accepts the granola bar, "Thank as well." He munches on it for a moment and says to Illyana, 'I thought you were being timed?"

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
And there, finally, Illyana reaches the tree. She leaves the frayed rag to the side after she manages to drop down, wiping her brow with the hem of the t-shirt. Far from opportune moment to look up there, but she is wearing the tankini underneath. Grease on her legs leaves a frown on her lips and she mutters a quick spill, crooking her fingers. Black streaks and smears marring her fair skin vanish in a moment, faster than trying to scrub at herself with that funny orange soap loved so much in the shop and the garage at the school.

By contrast, shimmying down the tree using the loops worked into the bark is even more comfortable. Descending one by one comes faster than the original zipline traverse, and then she's free to casually saunter back to Doug and Piotr. A reddened hand with fresh calluses is raised in a wave. "No crater? Good." Her frost-pale eyes lift to Piotr, and she points to herself. "I would hug you. Too hot and perspiring, though."

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug takes off his headband and wrings it out, before he clears his throat. "Say, Illyana!" He says, "Why don't I just run along back and... refill your water bottle?" He holds out his hand for it, and he says, "And you can have a couple of minutes to talk to your brother. I'm sure you two need to catch up. I'll be back."

Apparently there are moments where his courage fails.

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
Piotr munches on the granola bar contently. When Illyana walks up, he waves, "How did you do?" The large man blinks and looks to Doug, "Are you not going to take a try at the course?" Oblivious older brother is oblivious, "I hope I was not interrupting you two's training? And why would I make a crater?"

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"Falling, jumping, a great leap?" Lies on the lips of an angel disguises no fact other than the obvious, for Illyana has no reason to default to the deceits that kept her alive in the hellish maelstrom as a child, and again among those who expect to a pious creature in the mould of her finer brother. Piety starts and ends in the Demon Queen with that arc of a smile so rarely seen, albeit not in its fullest force. Hey, she exerted herself, it calls for a few moments. She takes the granola bar and strips the packaging from the top, glancing to the peanut butter and chocolate. Approval is a silvering on her midnight countenance, the glance sidelong to Doug when he offers to retreat for a water bottle. "But I do not need one?"

Still, she offers it out because other tells are obvious enough. So is the mobile triangulation that sets her in a position to keep herself between the pair of men, making it easier for her to step in place of her brother's path at a dead run if need be. "No interruption when I thought you might be interested. It should be secure enough for most of the students. Maybe good to test?" Her lips return to neutral, gaze lifting up to the canopy with its webwork of wires and ropes and platforms. Then back, even as she considers him. "Genosha hit many hard. Have you learned of what happened? We will have to go back. Too much to clean up. Too many dead unsettled."

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug stops, and for a moment his brow furrows. "Okay, fine. Sometimes you're a real demon, you know that, 'Yana?"

"I was there myself, I made it out through--" Doug flexes his techno-organic arm, "...Circumstances. It's bad, really bad. If it wasn't for telepathic therapy and a lot of self-examination I wouldn't be functional. I still have my bad days. I owe your sister for a lot of it -- she's been a huge help."

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
Piotr listens and shrugs, "I have not been doing any activity that would necessitate a crater. But yes, it is a safe, reliable training area that requires minimal set up." He finishes the granola bar and puts the wrapper in his pocket. "I will grant that I am probably not the best suited for this test, but it could not hurt." Then the topic shifts again to Genosha, "I am sorry you had to help tend to that. I am glad she has helped you with the healing, Doug. But if we must go back, then we had best steel ourselves, then. Because horrors do not simply vanish."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"I stood among the dead, Piotr." Now to get to the sticky part, where the need for a fast getaway increases bit by bit. She looks over to Doug and offers him an unsmiling, measured appraisal, though a step back puts her closer to him and offering that wordless comfort akin to a cat winding around someone's ankles. Or meowing for dinner. Her response isn't English; it's Russina. "Sixteen million of them around me. Many seemed unaware they were dead. A trap kept them from moving on. The politics of this is Lorna's and others. But we -are- going back. What caused it, we have not found. Not yet. But this is genocide. It is not war, it was slaughter."

Her words are carefully chosen and slanted into the fatalistic cant of their mother tongue. Few people -can- match Russian for the harshness on the ears, the simple process of dissembling thoughts into flat statements all the worse. "I will help balance the scales. Somehow."

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
"...Some of us are wearing rose-colored glasses about the whole thing. We can play pretend but Xavier recruited us to be soldiers... so that's what we'll have to be." Doug says, before he exhales, and says, "Wow. Heavy." He eats a granola bar, and chews, in silence.

"So! In lighter news, Illyana and I have started seeing each other. We're taking it day by day." Because she's a demonic sorceress and he's... whatever the heck he is.

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
Piotr stands there stoicly listening to his sister speak in their native tongue. The stoicism fades as he clenches his fists, "I see. Have there been any directions from the Professor regarding our plans for this." He lets his hands relax. "But if we must go, then I will go. Our kind is already under threat as it is, and someone decided that we should never have existed." When Doug drops that bombshell, the looming Piotr looks to him, taking a moment to recover, but instead it is emotional whiplash. "What? What made you think that would be an acceptable transition in our conversation?" He takes a deep breath, clearly frustrated, "I see."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"Nyet. Talk to Scott and Jean. They will give some direction?" The question hinges on a rhetorical cant as Illyana interposes her thoughts there, giving Piotr reason to turn around and go tramping after his relative peers, whereas they probably still have issues with the little blonde angel who was dancing down those halls at age six about three years prior. Having the moody teenager crowned by a pair of horns and the mantle of sorceress supreme in her own realm as a replacement does not come easily.

Even so, she spreads her hands. "Human, mutant, spider people. That murder is -wrong-. Not even Doom... Worse than Stalin. Stalin at least murdered for labour, yes?" The purges score their mark. One by one the rubles drop. Doug's interjection there, though perhaps abrupt, is met with an inclination fo her head. The subtle movement in her figure speaks volumes at least to the omniglot, universal linguistics warning that she's already readying. No signs of the blue-white lattice of light around her, nor the sudden appearance of her armour in her brother's makeup but tarnished to nightfall either. Or those polychromatic chrome glimmers, his organic steel, as seen in the previous day. "Because setting the table and doing it formally would be too uncomfortable, brother. You might have guessed with the dining table crammed in your room?"

Gods help them all, pigs fly and Illyana told a joke. Even if it's drier than the Atacama Desert. Her sense of humour is broken, for sure, and the application of it can flash-freeze a corpse to mummification when it shows up. But adult humour, not involving demons? There it is.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug scratches the back of his neck. "There's a lot of reasons to botch a conversational switch, Piotr. Nerves. Yeah... nerves." He puts other hand on his hip and looks up... and up... and up at him. "Because at the end of the day you're an incredibly protective man, especially of your sister, and I am a third your size. At *best*."

He shakes his head, and crosses his arms, and then takes a pull of his water bottle, looking a bit sour at himself, for the moment.

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
This takes a few moments for Piotr to process, but he does nod, "I will speak with them. But I would have rather you two have been more forthcoming, though this does explain the crater comment and you're" he says looking to Doug, "Perspiration in this mild weather." Piotr snorts at the rare Illyana joke. He sighs, "I am protective, I have lost her once already," and she is still his baby sister, only having known her for less than ten years, "But you are both adults, and I appreciate you telling me, just wish you had been a little more direct."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Illyana narrows her wide eyes, accentuating the almondine quality of them all the more. Especially when their pupils drown beneath the hints of intense cyanotic blue creeping in. "Piotr." His name holds an iron-clad weight on the tongue. The curl of her fingers against the slashed waistline of her black shorts spans her hipbone, long digits splayed along the descending saddle of the bone defining the bottom of the hourglass as it were. "That was not at all what I meant and you know it. Running and climbing the course for an hour left me hot and sticky. It was a courtesy not to stain your shirt. Are you implying you walked in on us /doing something/?"

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug turns a waxy shade of pale. "ILLYANA!" He says, turning suddenly.

Then he looks back to Piotr and opens his mouth to say something, before he stops himself, because... well, they're only post-human. But she's his Little Snowflake. He clamps his jaw shut, and then takes another pull off his water bottle, mmm, electrolytes.

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
Piotr raises a brow at his sister, "I would not suggest such a thing." His tone is deadpan, "Just that you... boyfriend, has been sweating so much that if I had created the aforementioned crater, it would be full at this point in time from his nervousness." He frowns, "You should know I would not suggest such a crass thing." Piotr scowls and says, "But as I said, you are both adults, my approval is not a prerequisite."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
That particular tone from Doug isn't helping when her hackles are already rising, and the building intensity of her cerulean gaze continues. His tone runs a frisson up the spine, lodging somewhere deep. "What else could you mean?" she interjects when Piotr tries to explain, that gap between finding the right title for Doug -- fortunately not 'dead man' -- filled. She holds out her hands out to the sides, open, which is positive or one step away from the pure fragment of her soul responding to the unconscious clarion call. "What else am I sweating from?"

Oh.

Beat. A second. Her mouth forms a moue, its fullness not quite indicative of being close to snarling. Guarded in her consideration of her brother, she tilts her head. Blonde hair dashes off her shoulder, save where it clings to her neck. Stupid human foibles. Human cares. Demons are so much easier to put in their place, no doubt. "People don't do that." A swift shake of her head is almost imperceptible, and the first linear arcs of the pauldron fade away from the back of her shoulder. "I was upset because it sounded like you accused us of... of being... /salacious/." Chuck is going to regret giving her that vocabulary. "In public! Piotr, I am sorry. You did not meant it, really? He is from a good family, and you cannot think I would ever be like that. You set a better example, and it hurt to believe you saw me so tarnished." She scowls right back, her pale brows drawn together. It's a freaking Rasputin scowling contest. Or both of them trying to work out the obvious.

Except she's not nine.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug backs off half a step. "Oh come on, he wasn't implying that Illyana!" He holds up his hands, and says, "Look--" He looks back to Piotr, and says, "...It wasn't nerves, it was trying to keep up with her from the ground." Then he sighs, and says, "This has gone way off the rails."

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
Piotr nods to Doug, "He is correct, I am not implying anything /salacious/ as you put it. Purely innocent," he continues his end of the scowling bout, "But if that was my perceived meaning, I apologize for not being clearer. It was by no stretch my intent." He crosses his arms, "Besides, it would make no sense. As you point out, it is public, and the fact that you invited me here, as well as the obvious fact that you were both engaged in running an obstacle course." Piotr sighs, "I may have been oblivious to the two of you being in a relationship, but I am not a complete idiot." The larger Rasputin does give a short laugh, "You did seem nervous about something, though." The latter aimed at Doug.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"You are not an idiot." That is an easy thing to say. Illyana wrinkles her nose up and scowls at a tree. It lacks spontaneous combustion so that is completely that, nothing more. "Sorry. It threw me off." Now where the hell is another granola bar? The girl weaves off to find it, ready to pounce on an unsuspecting bag to do it.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug stands there, looking somewhat wilted. Then he looks up at Piotr. "Look... I know that this might be a surprise to you, but you intimidate the hell out of me, Piotr. You always did." He glances back at Illyana, "And she and I... we're old friends. But... I like her. Like-like. I could've phrased that whole thing better... but I think she was more nervous about it than she lets on."

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
Piotr relaxes a little, "Well, glad we got past that misunderstanding." He laughs at the granola bar request and then looks to Doug, "Fair, but I would like to believe I am still approachable. What did you expect, me to throw you across the lake?" Piotr gives a quick grin, "Please, that is not something I would do just for admitting to liking my sister."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Illyana locates that other granola bar, and it's scarfed in two quick snaps and gone. Okay, there may be some chewing involved, but she is not hastening to return to the conversation without needed calories and a dash of sugar to replace that which already is lacking. Slinking back in puts her behind the wilted golden-haired mutant, whom she nudges with the corner of her elbow. "I would have watched that. Then scolded you after catching him," she opines. Fastball special, coming up? "All this is new. Anticipating what people will do, after so much change? It is not easy."

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug sighs, and then says, "The thought that I'd wind up diving into the far end of Breakstone Lake had crossed my mind." He exhales, and then rubs the back of his neck again.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Illyana Rasputina murmurs in the background, "Never would have happened, Doug. We good, then?"

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
"No, I would throw you farther," Piotr jokes, "But seriously, you have done nothing wrong that warrents a good throw across the lake." He sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose, "But in all seriousness, I am glad you finally told me."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
For the moment, the Demon Queen of Limbo doesn't have that much to say. She leaves her brother and her boyfriend to square out that point, though she loops her arm around Doug's out of silent affinity for things that are golden. "There, all is known." Good, concluded. Next up, something not so close to the bone. "Have you painted anything lately?"

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug curls his arm around Illyana's and then says, "...And I'm sorry that I botched it! Maybe we should've taken you out to dinner." Because neither of them can cook. He grabs a towel, and mops the last of the perspiration off his forehead.

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
Piotr raises a brow at the arm-wrapping, but says nothing regarding it. He answers Illyana's question, though, "Been working on a couple of landscapes, but nothing fantastic, been looking for some topics to catch my attention, otherwise just working to keep my skills sharp." Doug's comment gets a nod as well, "Yes, perhaps a family dinner of sorts is in order at some point."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"So much happens of darkness. We need more beauty in the world. Your paintings, they remember the colour and the hope," Illyana murmurs. She turns her face into the flaxen-wheat corona of Doug's hair and mutely tips her head to press her brow to his temple. "I can cook." She can cook a little, which adds an intrigue in there. "A slow-cooker to make borscht in." She nods a little. "Not like they make in Little Odessa. Maybe we need to go to that little cafe one day, da?"

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
"I cannot." Doug says, his eyebrows going up. "But we muddle through." He gets frozen meals made by the cook here at the school. Which amounts to a lot of salmon, brown rice, and broccoli for him anyway. "...We could do that," He says to her, a faint flush crossing his cheeks. He glances up at Piotr, and says, "I'll, uh. Brush up on my conversational Russian." That's a joke.

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
"It is why I paint," Piotr says, "Also allows me some measure of control in an uncontrolable world." He ponders on the Little Odessa cafe, and nods, "Indeed, either option works. And I am happy at least one of us cooks!" Doug's remarks on conversational Russian actually gets a sustained laugh from Piotr, "Well, you are certainly better than all of my students combined."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"Little Odessa has the best black bread. A bakery makes it moist and tidy," Illyana says with relish, clearly aware of the tasty influence and hook it has upon any with the Rodina flooding their landscape. Communal patience and food appreciation are the safest ways to connect their diverse backgrounds, applied with great precision and caution by the sorceress. "I have to eat. The kitchens are too busy." Her teeth indent her lower lip, stifling that sharp curve in rose and more. "Salmon and brown rice are healthy."

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
"And boring." Doug says. "Healthy and boring." But then he glances up to Piotr again and says, "...It's good, to have you around. The more friendly faces close at hand, the better."

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
Piotr holds up a hand, "Say no more, or I will have to leave and go there right now." He is finally in a better mood, though the talk of salmon and rice get a shrug, "It is not horrible, though you will learn to know that you get used to a consistent diet." Doug's remark gets a nod in acknowledgement, "But yes, food is likely in order at this point."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Illyana taps her fingertips against the open air, and she neatly collaborates with the notion of dinner by slanting a thoughtful look to the pair of men. "Let us go get this food. All the talk and I had to run down the tree, da?" Circling thumb against her pointer finger, the sorceress lets her gaze go unfocused whilst considering things far beyond sight. Possibly scanning the behaviour of her usual demonic legions, far away, or something much nearer at hand. Where do you take the family for dinner?

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
"Ah... well, I'm not dressed for Moscow," Doug says, as he pulls on his t-shirt, and then he flicks his gaze back to Piotr, and he slips his hands into his pockets. "...But I know a place in New York where everybody from the Russian Consulate goes for dinner?" He rocks backward on his heels.

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
"Well, that sounds like a suitable place," Piotr remarks, "Though I would advise a change of clothes, I doubt they approve of us showing up in workout gear. I say meet up in fourty five minutes and we can drive on over, then?" He stretches his neck, "Sooner is better, I am now starving."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"I would agree. Then, shall we?" Illyana asks, though she can step sideways through the veil of space to end up where she needs to be in the twinkling of an eye. Because fresh clothes and a good shower would no doubt be a welcome addition to improving the afternoon.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
"...Let's." Doug says, before he adds, "But ah, let's take a shortcut back to the house." He gestures, back in the direction of the mansion. "So's not to waste time? I'm starving."

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
"Excellent," Piotr says with some sincere joy, "Lead on, then!" He grins, "If you can get us to food faster, the better. Makes me glad I did not hurl you into the city."