Owner	Pose
Mary McPherran	It's after the near-riot in the Cafeteria, where the gals have been ushered back to their Cells. A chance to get cleaned up a little after all those scratches and soiled prison jumpsuits. While security hadn't increased immediately as a result, it had the consequence of the Guards being more prickly than usual. If the group of five is a Gang, their members in the subsequent hours and days are being picked off one-by-one. Ms. Moone had to return back to solitary for ~treatment~, and Livewire lipped off to the Guards and got hauled off for discipline. There was a lot of animosity towards the girls with the worst looking injuries, but also, deeper distrust of those labeled enhanced. Lisa, by contrast, while she no doubt bears signatures from the scuffle was afforded something akin to...not sympathy, but a kind of ease. She didn't bear the limiting collars and deemed ~safer~ And this somehow carried over to her being more ~trustworthy~. Such is the bias within the security forces of The Raft, and can be picked up on by an observant and clever individual with time on their hands. The overhead lights come on, and there's a buzzer sounding, cutting through the hiss of filtered air into Lisa's cell. Cutting through the strange squeals and creaks of the refridgerated air contesting with the metal and plexiglass. Making things want to condense, constract, exist in an artificial environment. There are fewer people in the nearby Cells. Leslie, Frost and Mary are missing (as is her customary snoring which may be a blessing in its absence). A middle-aged woman in Security attire is already walking up to Lisa's Cell, carrying a pad and walking with a purpose. "Molinari." It's a statement, not a question, as she walks up towards the hatch of the Cell. The woman appears haggard and troubled.
Lisa Molinari	"Day three-hundred and fifty-seven." Lisa narrates to an invisible, but debatably existing somewhere audience. "My captors continue to give me just enough sustanence to survive, but mock my very existence by keeping me seperated from my coat. From my tools. I have considered painting the walls of my domicile with blood to send a message of my need to express my creativity, but my claws have dulled as a result of the recent days' events." She paces in her cell as she speaks. Bags under her eyes from lack of sleep. Her wounds from the fight have joined with her self-inflicted wounds -- those mainly bruises from slamming herself into things out of either withdrawal-fueled rage or depression. She's tried to behave, like Crystal urged her to... but power is a drug. Being power/less?/ That's.. something else entirely. The buzzer goes off, and Lisa continues. "What few allies I've managed to obtain have gone missing, and I presume them dead. I once again find myself alone. Unappreciated. A genius who will only be recognized after she's gone." ...and then her name is called. She frowns in response, turning tired eyes towards said hatch. "Can I help you?" sounds the exhasperated voice from within.
Mary McPherran	The Guard, lines upon her face from her profession, those creases deepen as she takes a closer look at the incarcerated woman. Her tongue curls up against her upper palate, and then ~clucks~, as if it could serve as a response, or audible punctuation to the other woman's question. Eyes drift, the injuries upon Lisa little waypoints and pit stops on the journey that's visibly written upon her. "Special duties." With that brief initial explanation, she steps back in preparation for the hatch swinging open. After a murmured request, the Cell opens up, just like that, the difference in pressurization creating a little whine and ~pop~. "Come on out, we're going for a walk." she gestures, and a door leading out of this section is already raising in anticipation of accepting the transfeer. The female guard mutters, "You look like you've been having a rough time. I don't know what hand of cards you and your pals drew, but..." she trails off and beckons Lisa to get moving. "I've gotten a request for you. Specifically, unlike your companions, who seem to have drawn some pretty bad straws. Hopefully you'll see 'em again tonight. Anyways, says here that ~assistance~ could result in leniency. You got a specialty or something? Something to due with tech or artifacts?"
Lisa Molinari	"Alright. I was going to have dinner with the Queen, but, I like you, so I'll tell her to take her corgis for a walk or something." Lisa quips -- currently in one of her more stable moods -- although her steps see her trembling slightly with each footfall. She'll do her best to keep up. Reminding herself of Killer Frost's words. Trying to take solace in them, even if part of her /does/ believe she's never going to see them again... Almost like a dog, really. As soon as they're out of sight, they're gone forever. This isn't Juvenile Hall. This is the Big Leagues. "Hopefully." she echoes, keeping her head up willfully. Moving hurts, but she's going to do it anyways. "I mean. I got what I asked for, right? I played my part in the game." Villainy exists to exhalt the actions of heroes, afterall. Heroes without villains are nothing but normal people, and normal people... Turning her attention to the guard at the talk of specialties... "I'm guessing you're not looking for a mural to be painted on the mess hall's walls." Art is her primary specialty, afterall. She'll always bring it up first if prompted. "...but, I've been known to have a certain... knack... when it comes to understanding magical artifacts. They're tricky. They demand respect. I miss them."
Mary McPherran	The Guard keeping pace with Lisa is eyeing her very closely. Her brows are knitting together beneath her visor. For some reason, the plight of the inmate, perhaps compounded by the reason she knows why her gal pals are missing, weighs heavily on her. "Really?" she ruminates on these alluded to talents. The corridors are great for walks in this place, and a pain in the ass for someone already tired and aching. One might almost envision a gerbil habitat, long tubes connecting to multi-coloured compartments with food or other facilities to play in. Except human sized. Except not exactly fun at all. And also not made of translucent plastic to give much of a glimpse of the ocean all around trying to crush the place like an empty soda can. After an lovely elevator ride, there's another fun corridor, and this leads towards a compartment full of Cells arranged side by side, but almost completely transparent, with as much viewing area as possible. There are no ceilings in these cages, and an armature on a reinforced track can conveniently sway and rolls along the ceiling. And of course there's a ~claw~, metallic and pincer-like. A number of inmates are in these Cells already. Standing in the room and watching these cells is a raven-haired woman, a central part down her scalp, with a single pony-tail down her back over her lab coat. She's wearing glasses and has an air of superiority about her. She turns to the arrival of the Guard and Lisa, and upon sight of the latter, her scowl actually starts to transform into something eager. "This must be Molinari?" Her tone is crisp and clipped. She probably alphabetized her toys as a child. On her coat is the name: M. Rappaccini. She curiously has a small bracelet on her wrist which is remarkably similar to an inmates.
Lisa Molinari	"Yeah. It's amazing the kind of books the library keeps in its catalog that nobody bothers to look up. Looking for the dusty ones comes in handy now and again." Lisa murmers, crinkling her nose a little as she continues on -- reaching out a hand against a wall to act as a bit of extra support for the walk. Eyes taking in the sight of, well, everything. If they end up managing their own release, having an idea of what corridors connect to which others seems like a smart idea. It's a lot to keep track of, though, so how much she retains will be tricky. Once they arrive at their destination, Lisa wills her body to straighten up, summoning up her pride to present herself appropriately. "That's me." Lisa confirms, stretching her limbs as a few joints pop with the movement. Letting her eyes settle on Rappaccini. "You the one who needs an extra pair of hands?" Immediately as the words leave her lips, she winces internally. /She/ could use an extra pair of hands. Or two. Her fingers instictively curl into tight little balls. She /wants/ to punch something. She manages to hold it back, though.
Mary McPherran	The prisoners, so easily seen through their transparent cells, aren't allowed to sit. And the claw above goes through a number of permutations of movements, bending and sweeping in parabola back and forth above them. It's like a manic crane game from an Arcade, though far larger. Like some insectile limb that is capable of an insane array of movements, the armature descends to select a prize. The Cell is descends within may appear to not have an occupant at first. The Cell is not empty, it's just that the Inmate within is covered by something. It's something that belongs to Lisa. The pincer snaps downwards and nips the collar of ~The Coat~. When it jerks upwards, the limp body is hoisted up, momentarily as if crucified, arms stiffly outstretched, but through no effort of the body. No fingers extend past. In fact, just within the sleeve openings they seem bent back, broken, mangled as if snagged and wrenched by some force. "Many hands make light work." the Scientist huffs, her neck tense, lips pulled back in a faux grin. "I needed them soon after you arrived, but unfortunately..." Her studious attention turns to Lisa, and all that focus is almost like a palpable thing if one is inclined to such anxieties. "There seems to be an arms embargo. Something you can surely unbutton your lips and speak on." She keeps her eyes on Lisa, but she's soon yammering towards the Guard, "Thank you, prisoner received." It sounds like a dismissal, but the Guard loiters, eyeing the WTH is going on in the Cells. Her creases deepen further. The armature shakes the body, and there's a moment when the body just ~drops~ after a double-dislocating ~pa-pop~. Rappaccini pushes her own shoulders back in something like sympathy, but not. Tiboro's Coat is hoisted up and positioned over a Cell with a very worried looking Inmate. And the Scientist turns a glare on Lisa, eager for her reaction or words.
Lisa Molinari	At first, Lisa's doing her best to maintain an appearance of boredom-but-willingness to assist. Even allowing herself a yawn as a half reaches up to cover her mouth. Nopthing to see here. Just an empty cell. Some little toy they want to understand a little better. That facade drops in an instant as the Coat comes into view. That beautiful, beautiful coat. She's moving in an instant, as if she'd never been hurt in the first place. It's a matter of adrenaline striking. Where is she moving? Right up against the wall of the room closest to the cell in question. Hands pressed up against the transparent surface. Sorry, janitors! "There you are!" she snaps out, /staring/ at her coat and almost ignoring the fact that there's a body within it... At least until there's more speech. She won't look back, transfixed on the object of her obsession. But she /will/ respond, at least. "Magical items, Rappaccini." Yes, she read the nametag! "They have a... how to describe this. A sort of soul. A /consciousness./" Lisa explains... doing her best to keep her voice projecting even if she's facing away from the person she's talking to. "They form bonds. They have people they like. People they're willing to work for. When... /unworthy/ people try to use them, they may remain inert..." she trails for a moment, quietly admiring the mangled body inside her Coat. "...or they may lash out in anger. If you want to see another prisoner killed, you'll make them wear it. If you want to see what it can /do,/ you'll make me." She's a little manic. A little desperate. Hopeful, even?
Mary McPherran	The Scientist supreme, at least as she'd moniker herself, walks slowly and deliberately up behind Lisa. She seems confident in her own safety, and soon her presence may be felt somewhat uncomfortably close. Sandwiching Lisa against the glass by invading her personal space. She hovers like a devil over one shoulder, because angels don't have her expression, though her striking features could be close to lovely if she were not so rigidly focused on playing the temptress. "Lisa, nothing would please me more than to solve this little mystery. My focus of course is not the arcane, but rather of science. And I /do/ want to see what it can produce in terms of results. Measurable results my dear." And her hand reaches out, and rests on a shoulder if not refused. Her breath is close enough to smell the mint if not ambition. "Dr. Octavius has himself a rather interesting prosthesis, producing, through science, much what I am told this...magical attire can do. All very complicated, all very invasive. And personal of course. And you say that one must have a personal connection to make it work? There are so many hints of similarities, though not at all in the same realms. But then, isn't that what science does? We mimic nature, and improve upon it, and make something we can wear and use out of it, ever since we descended from the trees. Or were visited..." she trails off, a muscle in her cheek spasming. "Would you promise to be my good little lab assistant while I study what it can do? Dear girl, I can see what the sight of it does to you. That look in your eyes, I've only seen something close to that after administering certain toxins to test subjects. Surely I'd be a fool to trust someone with that magical artifact, wouldn't I?"
Lisa Molinari	Lisa's in a sort of haze. Staring at the object of her obsession through the glass that she's quite sure she couldn't crack even if she slammed herself into it until she was no more. It's when she hears her name... 'Lisa', not 'Molinari', is when she snaps back to reality. That's an opening if she's ever seen one. An opening to what, she's not entirely sure, but she knows she's going to press her advantage. "Dr. Rappaccini," her tone's changed. Smoother. The obsession remains, but the Scientist Supreme is the key to the door she wants unlocked. That /hope/ that she'd be reunited with her Coat certainly helps. "I think it's fair to say that I'm the living authority on that garment." She's carefully not to call it Tiboro's Coat, unsure of the woman's ability to reach out to Tiboro himself. "...and my focus /is/ on the arcane, so it seems fated that we were meant to work together, no?" She turns her head, smiling. The invasion of personal space doesn't seem to bother her. The opposite, if anything. "I've seen the good doctor's work. It's... inspired. I learned a lot from watching the news reports of his fights with Spider-Man." She's a supers-junkie, if the villain or hero is known to the public? She probably knows of them. "It's true, though. That poor fool there," motioning to the twisted body on the ground, "tried to wear the coat /without/ being bonded to it. Creations like this offer great power... but at /cost./" She struggles a bit to do it, but she turns from the window to face the scientist, raising a hand up to her own face. "These eyes have been devoid of all but the minimums of sleep since I've been here. I'm sure you have cameras on my cell. The effects of my separation from the coat should be plain to see, and the longer it lasts, the less likely you are to have a valuable resource around to study it with." "It'd be smart of me to just... accept, wouldn't it?" The smile turns a bit knowing. "End my torment. Maybe snap my fingers and be on the other side of the planet in moments; you /don't/ know all that it can do. You would be a fool to trust me just because I want it." she admits. "...but while /it/ accepts /me,/ that doesn't mean that I know everything that it can do yet. All that it can grant me. Your scientific mind and my creative one could work together to unlock its secrets... and even though the coat is /mine,/" That's a sticking point. The Coat itself seems to sway in Lisa's direction, as if moved by an unseen force. "...you'll have data at the end, and imagine what science could create to improve on the efforts of magic alone? So yes, I accept your offer. Let's see just how fruitful this partnership can be, shall we?"
Mary McPherran	Dr. Rappaccini's face would be impassive, or in that same minty-cool ice Princess demeanor, had it not been for Lisa's comment of her current Cell. Touching upon the subject of how she's no doubt monitored, has the scientist quirking her mouth into a smile that has some humour in there. She raises her chin and turns her face just so, returning Lisa's gaze with half-hooded eyes. Ah, there's something there: A modicum of respect. Monica's grin almost shows the glint of teeth at how possessive Lisa is of her artifact. There's something else she can respect. Even addictions can represent a kind of drive or loyalty, though some of course are more misplaced than others. The Scientist's eyes flick up to settle on the Guard, not a party to this little agreement, removed towards the entrance and looking out-of-the-loop. Monica's attention returns to Lisa and she looks like she's counting to Pi as many digits as humanly possible. "I'm upset..."r Taking a step back, she turns and enters in a few commands into her datapad. It unlocks one of the glass enclosures that lacks a ceiling. The coat, unlovingly pinched in the mechanical claw, surges overtop the room and dangles the artifact down to a level where someone could shrug into a coat rack. Monica continues her sentence. The pause is so pregant, it'll have a litter of puppies soon. "...because I seldom am allowed the pleasure of working with another woman that has such clear priorities. And articulate. Your file, beyond your criminal record, seems woefully lacking in important nuances. Go head...~partner~." She gestures to the open booth, the prize within reach. No hook but definitely a claw.
Lisa Molinari	When it comes down to it, Lisa's no dummy. She managed to get herself into college despite a history that saw her in and out of the courts as a minor. Sure, those records were /technically/ sealed, but technical didn't matter to a determined researcher. Plus, she was blunt about it. Having been in and out of the courts also made her keenly aware of the eyes that were always watching. Always watching. She had to believe it was even more intense at this 'boss level' of prisons. "Well. You know what they say. Your record as a minor gets sealed." Lisa replies with a wink. Seeing the Coat just... /there/ for her. It's helped stave off the withdrawal. Just the knowleedge that she'll be wearing it again soon. Have access to its artifacts again. Feet are starting to move in that direction. No. Not move. Strut. This is a cat that's cornered the canary. "Besides. The criminal justice system is woefully lacking in artists. It wants 'just the facts', uncaring of the whos, hows, or whys that brought the facts to be." /Unless/ she's somehow stopped, Lisa's full intent is to do exactly as she's been offered. Slide her two limbs into the arms of her precious Coat. No immediate teleportation or anything, either! ...not that she could, but, she doesn't even know /everything/ within the Coat's pockets.
Mary McPherran	Lisa is not hindered in any way, apart from the laser-focused scrutiny of her actions, and the apparent restriction of her movements within this room. If the glass enclosure is a trap, nothing is obviously sprung. Monsieur Mechanical Claw is almost the very model gentleman, holding the lady's coat just so. 'Come and try this on for size Mademoiselle Molinari' it could say if circumstances were different. With no immediate threat display, the pinch at the back collar is lessened and the fabric allowed to freely hang upon a new body. This, and the whole interaction between Lisa and Monica, draws the attention of the other conscious test subjects. Those that are awake and have not expired are either pressed against the farthest wall they can manage, or are gibbering with anxiety. Something in their eyes speaks of having witnessed things they'd rather not have. Rappaccini's lips enunciate with such deliberate motions, she must be tense. There's a lot riding on this amount of wiggle room. "Indeed, the Criminal Justice system has many gaps and inconsistencies. Typically penalizing a particular socio-economic class and gender. It's not the system I would set. ~I~ would create a balanced system, based on science, reason." And other things, but Mum's the word on laying out too large a buffet for a dinner for two. "Can you feel the connection before tactile sensations are apparent? Subjects 1C and 2O reported the fabric rustling like it was...mmmm...whispering. And 3A and 4T said they felt an itch along their palms, and proceeded to rub their palms on the artifact. Unfortuntely they also found a nearby pocket to try and solve their agitation. The medic services unfortunately could not recover their fingers." Her lips press tightly together. Hey now, there are some things in hidden pockets. Someone so familiar with the fantastic coat, some of these could be sussed out by shape and weight. The left hand side has suddenly produced hints of artistic supplies, brushes and tube of acrylic or oil. But another pocket, has a ring of all things. If one was to trace over it with a finger, it would speak of marvelous complexities. How someone could fits interlocking miniature gears, clockwork, flashes of a precious diamond, filaments, a precious little whirring thing that's in motion as soon as it feels the touch of its true owner.
Lisa Molinari	There's a moment where Lisa is silent. Fastening the Coat around herself, reuniting with her magical counterpart. Her namesake. Her reason for relevancy. Out of the either, additional arms materialize, stretch, and fade again into nothingness. Sometimes four at a time, sometimes two. There's even a potentially weird moment where it's just one. All of these working seamlessly with her natural ones. In a way, she almost looks /more/ natural with the additional arms than without them. After taking that moment or three to reacquaint and settle herself, her attention turns towards the Scientist once again. A smile crossing over her lips. Calm. True calm at that. Her natural hands move up, and slip into the pockets of the Coat. Enjoying the feel, the knowledge of the things within. Having /access/ to, what she fondly refers to as 'Tiboro's Armory', is a very, very good thing. "Oh, I definitely can, yes. I've been able to feel the Coat's presence from my /cell./ It probably knew exactly where I was, too. Magic is a two-way street like that... but that's also the nature of our bond." As she claimed before, she considers herself the 'true' owner of the Coat. That explains a bit more on that thought. "...but I could feel it even before we 'met'. The first moment I saw my it... it /called/ to me. It needed me as much as I needed it." she replies, now walking away from kind Monsieur Mechanical Claw and back towards the 'good' scientist. Casual. "Does that answer your question?" Rappaccini's earned points in Lisa's book. She's reunited her with her prized possession. This breeds at least a measure of cooperation.
Mary McPherran	The attitude that Monica perceives is almost a tangible thing for her own senses. The composure and control now that the subject has their fix, is truely telling. "What you describe sounds like a Symbiote." The scientist's eyebrow arches. The S-word carries a lot of baggage, and Rappaccini is not enamoured with the idea. "Those kinds of relationships do not have an off switch. There were no successful attempts to bond the artifact with another, which goes a long way to suggesting it has a preference. Just how many limbs can you produce, and how...agile can they be in manipulating things. Things related to your old professions..." It's a loaded question, no two shakes about it. Monica holds her ground as Lisa approaches. The earlier dynamic was easier, a kind of hierarchy that put the Scientist more clearly on top. She had something Lisa needed. Of course, with the bracelet she herself wears, Monica is probably hamstringed by the pecking order of this place as well. Though she does not wear an orange jumpsuit, perhaps she's not happy where she is either. ~Possibly~. The Raft is a bad place full of bad situations. Monica clears her throat and doesn't move her eyes from Lisa's face as she notes down things on her pad. By the door, the Guard clears her throat as well and speaks, "You weren't supposed to allow subjects out of observation cages, Doctor. I'm going to have to call this in." "Oh, but we've not even started tests yet Ma'am." begins the Scientist, and the fingers on her stylis clench. The friction of the rubber nub makes a terse ~skrit~.
Lisa Molinari	It really isn't a bad analogy, and if Lisa knew more about Symbiotes? She'd definitely agree. But, she doesn't, and she already confirmed that she could /feel/ the Coat... thus definitely not a connection that gets turned off, at least not unwillingly. "Six arms total. Including these." Pulling her hands out of her pockets briefly to showcase her natural arms. "As for agility... I can safely call myself sexadextrious." A little smirk. "Make all the jokes you want, but would you like to see a demonstration?" When the answer comes back as 'yes'... she smiles. "I assure you, Doctor. You will come to no harm here." She mentioned the girl's prior professions. Plural. She's been a couple of things. She's a known painter. She's also a vaguely known criminal. Additional arms manifest, and all but one of the six hands dips into a pocket save one. One comes out with a paintbrush. A second with a small jar of black paint. Third comes a rolled canvas, which the fourth grips onto and unrolls, holding it out and steady. As the fifth and six withdraw blades... this time a fencing sabre and an ornate katana, both of which are larger than the Coat itself... the hand holding the brush is starting to paint. Four hands working seamlessly for art, while the other two 'duel' behind her back, audible clashes of steel proving that she's striking. There doesn't seem to be any difficulty for the girl... who is /more/ than happy to carry on with the demonstration. She's missed this. For the first time in... days... weeks? She's unsure, but she feels like herself again.
Mary McPherran	Monica drops her chin towards her chest, her eyes peering past her thickly accentuated eyebrows. Following each of the arms, to her, is like watching one part of a juggling act. The coordination is impressive, but the very nature of it also sets her teeth on edge. It's not her wheelhouse, but she damn well wants a portion of it. "Fascinating." she hisses. The blade-work is flashy, and unnerving to the Guard. "Inmates are forbidden weapons of any kind in the Raft." she brays, her voice carrying the sound of gravel mixing around in a cement mixer. Monica holds up her hand to stall the female Guard. "Wait...Wait..." "Doctor, you're overstepping the grounds laid down by the Warden. You're now in direct violation of the conditions of your term served within The Raft." The sound of the truncheon being gripped, and the sound of the ~shhhhhlt~ of the metal extending to its full deployable length. There's a faint smell of ozone as it powers. "She's just giving us a little show, Sergeant." Rappaccini continues through gritted teeth, though her posture changes, half-turning, to have the Guard in her peripheral vision. "I'm well aware of my mandate, good behaviour, and besides, you know I'm unable to remove my own bracelet by myself." she says carefully. "You could incapacitate me at any time you wished. Much faster than I could ever depress all of the pertinent b-" The Guard isn't an idiot, and advances with a head full of steam. "I'm shutting this down now. You're both getting shut down. Control?" she cranes her neck to the side, activating her commlink. The floor shudders slightly. It happens to coincide with a jibber-jabber coming through the Guard's earpiece. It accompanies a screen flash vermillion alert that slides across Monica's data slate. It's a distraction that requires immediate glancing at, by both the Scientist and the Guard. Something important enough, no matter what their positions, could greatly disrupt their day-to-days. Monica inhales sharply. The Guard looks towards Monica and Lisa, and she raises her electro-truncheon.
Lisa Molinari	Lisa, for her part, doesn't seem to notice anything amiss immediately. She's in her element. Enjoying herself. After several long moments, the paintbrush goes back into the Coat -- her hand staying inside the pocket in question -- while the two holding the canvas turn it to face the doctor. It's a simple headshot painting /of/ Monica. Not finely detailed, because time and she only used one color, but... Her head turns to face the Guard though. Frowning. "Heroes need villains to be heroes. Heroes without villains... become the villain themselves. What do we do to villains, Sergeant?" she asks, before that sixth hand comes out again -- this time with a chain that's still partially in the Coat even as she stretches her limb out. Then, she smiles. "Go." The chain seems to come to life as Lisa releases it... flying through the air and /towards/ the Guard. Weaving with intent to try and wrap around the woman. "You really shouldn't try to make me go back on my promises, Sergeant. You could have asked nicely."
Mary McPherran	The Guard's reaction is to try and defend themselves. They're on alert, the situation has gone sour. With the alert coming over her earpiece, it might be FUBAR. She lashes out, not unexperienced, her shock-maul snapping violently with potential discharge. The chain isn't an inmate, and this wrong-foots her. It's like trying to smash a flying metal snake, and no matter how good an effort, advantage goes to the magical weapon. The electro-club comes quite close to friendly fire on herself, as her arms are bound tightly and her momentum almost puts her on her caboose. She twists violently to and fro, hopping about, breathing heavily as she's constricted. "Cease and desist! The coat comes off!" she demands, a pitiful display with fury in her voice. Monica's eyes widen and steps back, out of swinging distance, and giving Coat-of-Arms a wide berth to do her thing. A flush is in her cheeks and she's breathing a bit faster as well. When it appears the Guard is mostly subdued, she looks down at her dataslate and confirms whatever report has sent a hot flash across multiple channels. There's another shifting underfoot, like a giant was striding a connected hallway, or a spider had strummed one of the filaments of the web they all share. There are decisions to be made. Severe choices that Monica swipes right on. Blinking rapidly she then holds up her wrist, where she displays her own bracelet. "I don't have the ~tool~. Improvise. Three equidistant secondary contact points. Two primary seams in its construction that can be pried open upon depression of the three buttons. Within a battery. All parts held separately and never to reconnect. They're magnetized." she adds quickly. "The battery needs to be removed within 5 seconds of the casing being removed. Do you understand? If you start you can't stop. " Monica braces her feet and focuses entirely on Lisa. "Consider it an investment. I'm a patron of the Arts." Klaxons sound.