B spotted her without even trying. How'd he do that? Guy must have some serious premonitory senses or something, with all the shit he pulls on the regular, but now is not the time to think about it.
She drops down, attention fully on Ocaso. He doesn't usually use his power on her, wouldn't be sporting or whatever, but that isn't a reason to trust him an inch.
"'Sup," she says with a lackadaisical wave and a nod toward B. "You got somethin' for me?" Her hand lowers back down to meet its mechanical counterpart, fingers lacing together. The fun thing about the prosthetic's design, this intentionally jank-ass rusty dieselshit look, is that it effectively masks the plethora of higher functions buzzing away inside it. Looks analog, runs like a supercomputer. Sure, everyone knows she can do limited spatial warping with it, but do they know she can text? Well, she hopes not. Cause she really needs Nick Rush to get this text, and get his ass over here, preferably in an ambushing capacity.
-
She's in luck, as far as Ocaso's concerned; to him, her arm is a dangerous weapon, nothing more. He also believes her proud, and he's not wrong, but is it pride that precludes calling for backup? Not when there's another party involved, as it turns out; to be fair, this is a first for them.
"I thought you might be interested to know who was behind so many of our scrapes," he says calmly. "I know I was."
His influence over B will last several minutes more at least, and it'll only fade if he doesn't give new commands. He lets the man be, not seeing reason to restrain him more than with words. It's not as though he's a threat when he's here in the open, is it.
many days later, a short novel
B spotted her without even trying. How'd he do that? Guy must have some serious premonitory senses or something, with all the shit he pulls on the regular, but now is not the time to think about it.
She drops down, attention fully on Ocaso. He doesn't usually use his power on her, wouldn't be sporting or whatever, but that isn't a reason to trust him an inch.
"'Sup," she says with a lackadaisical wave and a nod toward B. "You got somethin' for me?" Her hand lowers back down to meet its mechanical counterpart, fingers lacing together. The fun thing about the prosthetic's design, this intentionally jank-ass rusty dieselshit look, is that it effectively masks the plethora of higher functions buzzing away inside it. Looks analog, runs like a supercomputer. Sure, everyone knows she can do limited spatial warping with it, but do they know she can text? Well, she hopes not. Cause she really needs Nick Rush to get this text, and get his ass over here, preferably in an ambushing capacity.
-
She's in luck, as far as Ocaso's concerned; to him, her arm is a dangerous weapon, nothing more. He also believes her proud, and he's not wrong, but is it pride that precludes calling for backup? Not when there's another party involved, as it turns out; to be fair, this is a first for them.
"I thought you might be interested to know who was behind so many of our scrapes," he says calmly. "I know I was."
His influence over B will last several minutes more at least, and it'll only fade if he doesn't give new commands. He lets the man be, not seeing reason to restrain him more than with words. It's not as though he's a threat when he's here in the open, is it.