Gizmo

Rex-01 seemed a little startled by the strong positive response to his suggestion. The set of his narrow jaw took on a slightly more confident angle as he redoubled his focus on the job at hand, taking readings of each piece of equipment they passed and triple-corroborating the data to seek out any possible deception. Ultimately he found none, with energy output and consumption matching up with the Khanate party's claims; most notably the vessel's life support was only functioning enough for the barest of skeleton crews rather than the massive number of ground troops, fighter pilots and support staff such a ship would normally contain. The scientist looked away from the terminal he had accessed to peer at Malor and Vor'an, his brow furrowed. Approaching unarmed in the interests of opening peaceful talks was one thing but this seemed almost... desperate by his calculations. Which wasn't at all the same thing as 'less dangerous' he mused while relaying his findings to the Praetorians without commentary.

Jack of all Blades Erik took in Archeville’s reply with a carefully neutral expression and remain silent for several beats after the other man had finished. Years ago they’d more than once locked eyes like this over a card table, searching for any tell betraying a bluff with no stakes higher than who was going to buy the next round. A lifetime ago, for both of them. He let out the breath he’d been holding and uncrossed his arms to shrug. “Alright then.” Rising from his lean the masked man made a show of stretching out his back. “I’ll leave the paperwork side of things to the League; have fun with that.” He sauntered over to the door, giving Chris a reassuring clap on the back as he passed. Stopping with a hand on the doorframe he looked over his shoulder to Archeville. “Can’t say about ‘amends’ but there’s a… personal thing we need to talk about later. Might be a start.” He left the conference room without waiting for a reply but those remaining could here his distant voice calling to someone in the hall, “This is an open bar situation, yeah?”

Jack of all Blades Erik had walked silently into the conference room behind Velocity with none of the bombastic verve with which he’d burst into the main hall. Having accounted for the children his pulse was slow and steady. Among people with whom first impressions had long since passed the quips fell away. Instead he moved to the wall opposite Archeville, leaning back with his arms crossed. Remaining standing and close to the exit, never taking his eyes off of the unexpected returnee, the swordsman was an even more disconcerting presence for those who had expected him to enter loudly and angrily. Eventually Chris’ open-ended question demand some sort of response. Erik inhaled slowly through his nose and narrowed his eyes. “Hey. Look at me,” he demanded of Archeville, waiting until their eyes met. He tapped two fingers of his right hand against his temple. “Are. You. Good?”

VINCE “Well hey! There’s probably a joke there about how you forced me to blow up our old pad,” Vince cut in with exaggerated cheer, still occupying the entire back wall of the room with his simulated space, “but seeing as how that was were my servers were it was less like a house than my skull and I just don’t have the run cycles these days to come up with something pithy on the spot. We’ll workshop it, yeah?” The hologram sat back heavily in his simulated chair with a glare. A flicker of surprise and hurt ghosted over his expression when Lynn offered Archeville somewhere to stay but Vince schooled his face back into something coolly sardonic before most of the heroes in the room could notice. Angry as he was he couldn’t find it in his program to insist someone - anyone - be forced out onto the street.

Rex-01 had remained a few steps behind the Praetorians as they disembarked, furiously scribbling with a stylus the moment they entered the interior of the larger ship. While the instruments in his tablet automatically generated video footage and transcripts the clone scientist added a steady stream of his own handwritten notes to every scrap of data, making shorthand sketches of Moon-moth's hand signs to accompany the translation, observations on the Praetorians' implied if not outright stated internal hierarchy, napkin math estimates on the percentage of the ship's power output accounted for in the visible equipment of the hanger. He gave a small jolt at Justicar Vor'an's question, remembering that he wasn't meant to be a purely passive observer. "Oh, ah. The engine core. Would - would be my recommendation?" he ventured, stepping out slightly to one side so that the Praetorians didn't have to fully turn around to face him. "It's the only major piece of engineering that couldn't feasibly be moved elsewhere in the floorpan or be replaced with a facade and would provide the most information toward ruling out potential deception?" Rex-01 straightened his back beyond even military attention, looking profoundly uncomfortable.

Jack of all Blades "Not to be, y'know, an ass about it but historically not giving the impression of hostility has been sort of the issue with him," Jack told Predator, doing up a pair of additional buttons on his shirt that still left it more open than most people would have considered appropriate. "Still, appreciate the vote of confidence, Daytona. And right, sorry; Merry Christmas," he belatedly returned Copycat's well-wishes, running a rueful hand through his hair. "I spent a lot of time figuring out what I'd do if he ever showed up again but the whole parent thing changes everything, yeah?" Without causing too much of a scene - at least not any more than his noisy entrance and general presence usually caused - Jack hurriedly checked in on Neko and the small children, ruffling her hair and surreptitiously congratulating her and her friends on their emergency procedures without upsetting their charges before reminding her to text Talya with any updates so that she and Min wouldn't worry. Circling back around to the dance floor he caught Owain's eye from across the room. Seeing that Stesha had entrusted her son to the young man Jack gave him a loose salute and a proud, lopsided smile before turning back to Velocity. "Alright, guess it's reunion time. Lead on."

"We'll need to work on your scientific curiosity," Winifred noted, scraping a bit of two different powders from her palate into the mortar. "Consider: if you get hungry or thirsty we can reasonably assume your physiology requires sustenance in the traditional sense. Further, you haven't perished from dehydration or starvation which tells us that nutrients are remaining intact to be absorbed by your bodily systems, yes?" The alchemist paused for a moment and tapped the handle of the pestle against her chin thoughtfully. "Although we shouldn't rule out a psychosomatic effect wherein you only feel hungry because you believe you should and your biology has some other mechanism for sustaining itself. Honestly, I'm surprised you haven't questioned these topics in greater depth already." She turned the pestle about about began grinding the contents of the mortar into a finer dust, stopping occasionally to add a drop of liquid until she had created a paste. "Ah! Now, hair and fingernails, that's excellent information. We can look at using your own keratin as a base. I'd suggest starting a collection of clipping and cutting, if you aren't already." Her tone suggested she considered a jar of ones own fingernails a perfectly reasonable ingredient.

A few paces from the Praetorians a tall, rail thin Lor triple-checked the data summary on his tablet to distract himself from fretting over the proper decorum for interfacing with the colourful group's nebulous official rank and storied accomplishments. Science Officer Rex-01 was the first of a clone batch only commissioned in the wake of the Incursion, patterned after one of the heroes of Lor-Van's final hours, simultaneously of unproven stock and with the crushing weight of legacy upon his shoulders. Accelerated maturation cycles meant he looked to be in his mid-twenties, perhaps older thanks to his high forehead and pronounced cheekbones but it was difficult not to feel like a youth as he cleared his throat to interject into the Praetorians' conversation. "The, ah, that is to say, the broad spectrum readings don't suggest readied weapons, conventional propulsion, esoteric drives, cloaking technology or catastrophic overloads. If that... if that helps," he offered, taking a step toward the group while remaining what he hoped was a respectful distance apart. "I've also been comparing heat signatures and psi-bands for matches against known mind control or coercion methods that might explain unusual behaviour. They haven't sent of received any communication since agreeing to the boarding party, not subspace, telepathic, quantum entangled, dash code or carrier animal." Rex-01 turned his tablet around to show them a dizzying scroll of graphs. "I, ah, I don't care for surprises. But that's why we're here, yes? To check in person. Boots on the ground! Ahem."

Jack of all Blades “I’m not yelling at you, I’m just yelling!” Jack finished yelling into his phone before registering Velocity’s approach. “Daytona! Hey. Now I’m glad I didn’t go back for my wig; nobody ever lets me know when these things go out of fashion.” Megan had known the swordsman long enough to recognize that the banter was reflexive, almost unconscious as his body language said he was still anticipating danger. When Copycat and Predator approached he squared his shoulders as though getting ready to face multiple opponents then caught himself. With visible effort he relaxed his posture and raised his hands in front of him, palms out. “Much as I love being swarmed by pretty people, I get it. Folks are probably worried I’m going to turn Archeville’s esophagus from an outie to an innie. But right now I just need to know my kids are okay. Neko was supposed to be working the daycare; have any of you seen Owain?”

VINCE gave Fleur the frustrated look of someone not especially given to anger trying to remain heated in the face of a calm, polite request before tossing the oversized envelope aside with a huff, the prop pixelating before disappearing entirely midair. The intercom in the middle of the table fell silent as he muttered, "Whole collection of the greatest heroes alive but nobody knows how to 'yes, and' over here. Fine." He refused to make eye contact during Archeville's subdued acknowledgement, crossing his arms and blowing a raspberry. During the spacefaring scientist's explanation however his avatar's jaw dropped open, hanging further and further until it had reached cartoonish proportions. Lifting it back into place with one hand he covered his eyes with the other and groaned. "Really, I don't know why I'm surprised. The charmed life on this guy, you'd think he took a four-leaf clover suppository. Cannot believe you're making me do this..." Grumbling to himself he produced a brick-like, beige portable phone and dialled theatrically. - - - Back in the main room of the party the double doors swung open with enough force to make an audible thump. The man rushing through doorway was barefoot beneath black velvet dress pants, tailored to hang artfully off of the taut muscles of his legs. His navy blue shirt had a subtle pattern pattern woven into it that might have looked tastefully understated had the sleeves not been rolled up past his elbows and the buttons not been undone to below his sternum, baring dark sienna skin marked by crisscrossing scars and ruddy from the cold outside. His short cropped hair and beard, trimmed into sharply defined lines, were a dusty brown that caught the colourful lights of the festive decorations. A folded, blue bandana covered the top half of his face except for intense, dark eyes that scanned the crowd with adrenaline-soaked focus. Jack of all Blades held his phone to his ear and skidded to a halt from a full sprint, shoulders rising and falling with his breath as he asked incredulously, "What the @%$# do you mean, 'Alien Santa'?!"

Winifred gave Consuelo a difficult to read look, silently narrowing her eyes while she considered and discarded several responses as too glib or caustic to be wholly appropriate. "Rest assured, should I intend to 'make fun', there will be no room for uncertainty on your part," she settled on eventually, stifling a small sigh. Cathy would have had more luck communicating with the teenager but then she had always been the most well adjusted member of their circle at school. "Allow me to attempt to speak perhaps not more explicitly but more clearly." The alchemist moved to the rows of little drawers and collected a metal dish that looked something like a painter's palette, with little indentations creating bowls in its surface. "If the lead in the apron maintains its integrity against your effect longer than in other materials that may be a useful starting point. Lead was in fact a rather popular component of cosmetics in the time of my youth but my assumption is that you still metabolize some amount of the substances with which you come into contact and poisoning you would be quite counterproductive." She moved from drawer to drawer, scooping spoonfuls of different powders onto the dish before setting it down next to a mortar and pestle and turning around to her guest. "On that note, are you able to eat? Does food and drink...?" She waved her fingers in the air to indicate dust blowing away in the wind. "Does your entropic field extend to your innards? Things you've swallowed, inhaled?"

Jack of all Blades [Maxed] Everybody Wants to Be a Cat (1) Ghost Girl [Maxed] Holiday Cheer! (3) Reagent / The Alkahest [Maxed] Freedom's Finest: Laws of Repulsion (6) Ref point and rollover can all go to Chitin, thank you!

The Hall's security systems ranked among the most formidable in the world - on many worlds, in fact, with the benefit of alien hardware and esoteric code. After all, generations of brilliant minds had taken a hand in protecting or attempting to break into some of the most dangerous secrets and sensitive information in existence. On the other hand, if one wasn't concerned with secret identities or hidden vaults and if one travelled lines of binary with the same familiarity that a native Freedomite walked their city streets and if one had a head start from a broadband wireless connection provided by a helpful youth... it still might have been an insurmountable task. Even so, if said 'one' focused solely on a single floor-to-ceiling digital display in the conference room closest to the festivities and was sufficient motivated by a long overdue reckoning, if all of those factors lined up, things might get very interesting. And so when Fleur and the rest of the Leaguers and accompanying heroes led Viktor Archeville into the room they found the overhead light already on and the far wall showing a recreation of a late night talk show set, artfully rendered on the flat panel to give the illusion of depth. Behind the host's desk a thin man with a pompadour and a screamingly bright neon green suit sat with his feet up on the corner, grinning with rows of perfect, pearly teeth. "Well hey hey! This is one heck of a good looking audience we've got here tonight and you know I wouldn't just say that!" V.I.N.C.E. greeted while a catchy saxophone riff and backbeat played him on from the intercom in the middle of the conference table. "I know we're all excited to get to our special, surprise guest--" He paused for a moment to allow for a round of canned studio audience applause and produced an oversized envelope from behind his simulated desk. "--but first we've got a segment for you I like to call Top Ten Family Members You Don't Want to See for the Holidays!" Vince swung his feet down and leaned forward, staring daggers at Archeville while his smile dimmed not a watt. "Folks, you're not gonna believe number one."

Jack of all Blades Chris' phone buzzed insistently, one of the handful of exceptions he'd left on for the party letting the notification through. "Fearless" "Leader" <owain just sent me a picture of architecture <archery <..."Fearless" "Leader" is typing. There was a brief pause before the next message. <Archeville at your party <typing while running make fun later <make sure kids are safe then get eyes <..."Fearless" "Leader" is typing. <please Immediately afterward Owain's own message received a reply. Mr. Espadas <STAY AWAY <... Mr. Espadas is typing. <owain listen its good you sent this but I need you to find one of the heroes we talked about <flour velocity or someone else <FLEUR <stay safe keep neko safe <cassie if chris brought her Another notification popped on on Owain's phone for a different text message thread before he could reply. VINCE <Hey hey! <How's my favourite shining knight this silent night, huh? <Could I get you to turn on all the wireless connections on your phone and pop it over near one of the computers in the Hall? <No biggie, nothing to worry about, just... well! <Y'all had family shouting matches at holiday parties in Camelot, right?

"Gooosh, if Baby Velocity's class is anything like ours was that's going to be awkward," Kimber mused to herself. "Like half of them probably don't even have a mom, let alone a famous one! It's fine, I'm a dead woman, I can make that joke," she assured the still frostbitten astral projection of Parfum, who had continued to spin slowly in the air until he was upside down. "Ugh, what a party pooper. All yours, Burt, please!" Mimicking a volleyball rally she bounced Parfum in Dead Head's direction. Turning to more important matters she greeted her foster sister with open arms. "Abbyyyyy~! Ah, you look so cute!" The poltergeist dropped down until her feet were hovering just above the floor so she could pinch the mage's cheeks. "Cute, cute, cute! And you're out with people and not pouring over some dusty old tome? Is the a Christmas party or Opposite Day?" Kimber teased, grabbing Abby in a bear hug that almost lifted her off of the floor as well. "And Tempie! My sister from another blizzard!" She threw an arm around Temperance without letting go of Abby with the other. "Oh. My. Goodness. Should we turn the dance floor into a skating rink?! No, that's crazy! But is it, though?!" She was momentarily distracted from that plan by Megan's virtuoso display of dance. "Ooooh, so she's like a fun mom, okay! WOO!"

Ghost Girl The floating industrialist’s attention snapped over to Geckoman, face red as he shouted, “You! I’ll pay you whatever you want, just get me—“ ”Hey!” Kimber interrupted, tossing Parfum into the air like a rag doll. She sped after him, face and exposed sternum turning dedicated and skeletal, jaw stretching into a howling maw and wickedly curved scythe appearing in her hand. She caught back up to the tumbling man as his astral form hung in the air near the ceiling and bellowed directly into his face with the force of a blizzard. “Cut that out!” Grabbing him by the collar again she zipped back down to a more convenient height for conversation, appearance restored to joviality. Parfum on the other hand was now encrusted with a layer of frost and icicles. “Ugh, sorry,” the poltergeist apologized to the party-goers, giving Cassie a guilty look and hoping she hadn’t startled the child. “You know this guy laid off more than a thousand people a week before Christmas? Feel bad about your choices, Zeke!” With a huff she turned to Michael, giving him a broad and cheerful grin. “Oh, you’re like a puppy, I love it!” She twisted in the air so that she was reclining horizontally, ethereal physics preventing any unwanted wardrobe malfunctions in her loose robe. “Not only am I a real ghost, I’m a bisexual Canadian so that’s like three things people don’t think exist! Now, the most important thing if you’re making a Young Freedom team is you need someone with a big ‘G’ on their costume.” She stretched out a hand toward Chris for a high five. Eira’s arrival garnered the whole of her attention, leaving her frozen passenger slowly rotating overhead. “Ah, sweetie, I didn’t know you’d be here! The girls and I have a couple little things for you back at the castle so you have to come by to open presents, okay?” she insisted. “Look at you two, so cute. It’s very nice to meet you, Percy and I will absolutely Nightmare Before Christmas your butt if you don’t show my niece a good time, clear?” The cheerful teasing probably would have sounded less threatening without her earlier display. Kimber looked up from their chat when she heard her name. “Buuuud, ohmigod!” she greeted Dead Head, returning his wave energetically. “Have you been working out? You’re looking less decomposed, seriously!”

Ghost Girl The faint, far off sound of sleigh bells preceded a light dusting of snow falling atop the heads of Mali and the very much indoors group with which she was speaking just before a figure floated down through the ceiling with another in tow behind her. "Yay, made it!" The translucent blue woman swooped down to hover a meter or some off the floor and beam at the assembled revellers. Her oversized, fur-trimmed robe was a similarly see-through aquamarine, belted at the waist but hanging open and off of her shoulders enough to be decidedly party wear, while a matching wreath sat atop a loosely curled, asymmetrical bob. "Sorry, had to do a work thing last minute. Oh, Mals, you were so right about those boots on you, cuuute! Hi, new faces! I'm Kimber and ah! Look at the little sweetie, hello!" The poltergeist's attention hopped from her neighbour to the caped youth then quickly to the wide-eyed little girl. "Erm..." the sixty-something year old man she was dragging through the air by the collar of his nightshirt cleared his throat awkwardly. He was translucent as well, though rendered in a full array of colours unlike his escort. "Oh, right!" Kimber launched another meter or so into the air and waved the miserable looking man about as though he were weightless. "Ezekiel Parfum, behold! People having an actual good time because they like each other and aren't awful, union-busting baloney holes!" She gave him another shake for good measure, sending his bare feet bouncing around midair. "Mull that over for a bit, eh?" Dropping back down to a height better for conversing she added sotto voce, "Yeah, so the usual Ghost of Christmas Present had a family thing so I'm filling in? Don't worry, he's not going to remember specific faces or names or anything, just giving his astral projection here a spook, you know how it goes. Wow, they really went all out with the decorations!"

“Claremont Academy, dear. The school. I think we’d best avoid lead as a cosmetic component but noted.” Winifred watched the handbag clatter to the floor with pursed lips. “Hm. Inconvenient.” Looking back to Consuelo she steepled her fingers. “I’m not telling you any of this because I particularly enjoy talking about myself or listing my personal failures and traumas. But to be explicit, despite my condition making even tepid romantic activity an impossibility for me without certain concessions I am fully familiar with the concept of a ‘safe word’. Gallows humour is simply one manner in which I maintain my composure. I admit, being in your immediate vicinity is unpleasant but I’ve carried on through far worse.” Winifred allowed herself a small smirk and arched eyebrow. “If anything - and forgive my presumption - I feel a certain kinship given the manner in which your abilities seem to be wrecking absolute bloody havoc on your daily life. But who knows? With hard work, in a few years you too could be making uncomfortable clarifications about your sex life to a teenager, hm?”

“When,” Winifred corrected while crouching to tuck the edges of the plastic sheet around the corners of the armchair, giving it some ablative protection from Consuelo’s effect. Standing back up she caught the teenager’s expression and paused. “Hm. Americans do struggle with a dry delivery.” She took a seat on the opposite chair and crossed her ankles. “I suppose you have reason to assume a certain intent, as well. Allow me to be clearer.” Leaning forward in the armchair she took a deep breath. “Ms. Nunez. Consuelo. I was born in 1839 London to Chinese immigrants and as a girl studied amongst the finest - and worst - rogue scientists of that time and place. When I was about your age I made a series of poor choices resulting in my transformation into an incredibly destructive monstrosity, triggered by any heightened emotion. My attempt at… a resolution transmuted my body to inanimate jade. This effect was reversed six years ago whereupon the Alkahest very nearly murdered everyone unfortunate enough to be present including several young women I would later have the privilege to call my friends. Rather than being dropped in the darkest available abattoir I was remanded to the Academy.” She stopped to confirm that Consuelo was keeping up with the explanation before continuing.

“In terms of auditory cues the snapping of bone and rending of flesh tends to be rather hard to miss but if you need a particular word as warning it’s usually something to the effect of ‘run’,” Winifred offered in a crisp deadpan which was neither especially reassuring nor invited further questions. She did spare Consuelo a softer expression as she held open the door to the back room. “Speaking to a young person with a currently uncontrolled and destructive ability my genuine advice would be to reconsider whether or not you are ‘a science type,’ Ms. Nunez. No one is going to be better motivated to find solutions and you are in a privileged position insofar as schooling is concerned. Take advantage.” The consultation room looked more like a sitting room than a doctor’s examination room, with large armchairs and a wooden desk. An entire wall of small drawers was labeled in crisp handwriting, flanked by a wheeled chalkboard and an assortment of apothecary equipment. “That said,” the alchemist continued as she hung up the coat, “alternate dimensions are an absolute pain in the ass.” The last word a distinctly more local affectation to it. She rummaged about behind her desk for a moment before producing a roll of plastic sheeting almost as wide as she was tall. “One of my own classmates immigrated from a particularly ghoulish example.” She unrolled the sheet and draped it over one of the armchairs and across the unoccupied floor in front of the chalkboard. “He lives in Florida now, which is largely indistinguishable from an alternate dimension.”

As Winifred stepped forward, hand outstretched to accept the coat, a violent muscle spasm wracked through her right arm. Even a few feet away Consuelo couple hear a squelching pop and grinding as the alchemist’s wrist bent at an unnatural angle. Lips pressed into a tight line Winifred took a half step back, exhaling through her nose and gripping the burnished metal moulding set into the closest display shelf. For a brief moment luminous green veins pulsed beneath he let skin, then the spasms subsided. “Hm. ‘The creeps,’ indeed. Kenneth?” The bald, lanky man behind the counter at the rear of the room hurriedly finished checking out the customer he was helping and took in the deep indentations Winifred’s grip had left in the metal. “Aw jeez, sure sure, no problem!” he called in a cheerful Bostonian accent, shooting the green haired teenager a reassuring smile. “We got some spare shelf bits in the storeroom, I got ya.” “Thank you, Kenneth,” Winifred replied without looking over her shoulder. Taking a more deliberate step toward Consuelo this time she took the girl’s coat. “My apologies, Ms. Nunez. We all have our challenges, of course. Now, if you’ll follow me to the consultation room, I would like to get a more precise definition of ‘decay’. Do you know if you are breaking down chemical bonds? Molecular? Accelerating relative experienced time? Is there an endothermic component? Are specific material exempt?” The prim scientist rattled off the questions matter-of-factly while examining the garment she was holding.

Erik had glanced over his shoulder to tell the teens not to make too much of a scene having fun with the pickpocket only to catch Neko's plaintive look. He responded with the reproach of a man inured to the ploys of much smaller girls who didn't also happen to be war veterans but acquiesced all the same, turning instead to Leon. "Alright champ," he invited too quietly to be overheard, "let's see those 'job skills'." He continued his turn with a playful spin on the heel of his back foot until he was facing forward again, just in time to 'accidentally' bump into the man in the suit as he walked past. "Woah, hey, sorry there, pal!" he squawked in feigned surprise, loud and gregarious as he grabbed the other man by the shoulder as though to steady him. "And here I was just telling my kids they gotta watch where they're going, talk about egg on my face, amirite?" His overly familiar clap on the back both drew attention and forced the pickpocket to stand up straight and open up his stance, leaving him an open target for Leon.

Winifred finished straightening a row of round metal tins on the shelf she was inspecting before turning to address the young woman. They were likely about the same height but the older woman's straight backed posture and the teenager's uncertain hunch made her seem larger, an uncommon experience for the alchemist. "Ms. Nunez, welcome." She steepled her lean fingers together and gave Consuelo an openly appraising once over. The unusual hair colour didn't earn a second glance while the layers of threadbare clothes received further scrutiny. Winifred was intimately familiar with the markers of an unhoused youth but something about the wear patterns on Consuelo's outfit nagged at her analytical mind. "Chrysopoeia, from the Greek. The transmutation of base metals into gold. A bit heavy handed, admittedly but one makes allowances for the sake of alliteration." Winifred made an effort to soften her expression for the sake of her guest, stepping away from the display shelves to allow another customer browsing a clear path to the till without closing the distance between them. "I am Winifred Wei, yes and on the contrary I appreciate the punctuality. Our mutual alma mater arranged for the visit but as a matter of privacy didn't divulge what specific needs you might have. At a glance I think we can safely begin with a moisturizer but beyond that I'm all ears." She gestured to the torn and ragged top of one of her ears with a faint smile. "May I take your coat?"

Sunday, December 3, 2023 The pop-up shop hadn't been Winifred's idea. Conducting business entirely though correspondence hadn't been a foreign concept to her even before spending the better part of a decade acclimating to the 'future' and minimizing face-to-face interactions suited her just fine. Chrysopoeia had grown considerably as a company in the fast few years, however and both the marketing consultantation team she'd hired through AEON and her in-house 'social media' person had agreed that a physical presence was a must during the Yuletide season. Given the bespoke - and sometimes volatile - nature of her products that meant that Winifred herself needed to be on-hand. And so the petite Englishwoman paced about the polished wooden tables in the small Hanover storefront, the combination of warm tones and glassware evoking some idealized remembrance of the laboratories of her youth. She wore a pine green sleeveless turtleneck, leaving the sleeve tattoo on her left arm on display, metallic ink that caught the light to look like spun wire, along with loose black trousers. Her actual lab wear was in the consultation room behind her in an attempt to look more inviting, an affectation her imperious resting expression already made something of a challenge.

"I've got students across a full range of gender expressions but Neko would maybe get less out of those match-ups, entertainment wise," Erik clarified for Leon's benefit, walking a pace or so in front of the teenagers, ostensibly to lead the way but more to allow them the small privacy of his peripheral vision. "Parkour's good! Takes practice and discipline but not too much getting in your own head, yeah?" Quick strides brought them to their destination, a family run restaurant - like many in the West End - the owner of which Erik was on friendly terms with - like many in the West End. The red and white tiles around the large windows weren't all quite the same shades and there was still a shadow where the previous sign had covered the exterior's paint but the current signage no less proudly accounted itself as "Lorenzo's".