[ It was good that Spider-Man handled the costumes, she handled the paparazzi. Word was that the construction site was where Foom was last sighted, sending choppers and newsvans driving the opposite direction. The thief has a big enough lead to get to the pier first – to let tempers settle or Spider the time needed to distract. She's fuzzy on the details and the concern she has for him to be hurt is there... she trusts him.
When she got dressed tonight, slinked into her sexiest gown – low-cut and overflowing to the ground in her best, uncomfortable heels... she didn't expect to now be eggscorting something to the piers. Felicia has a habit of bringing bad luck, but this? Takes the cake. She isn't clued in on all the tech in the mobile, still annoyed she has to learn to drive it – she's a New Yorker, so driving isn't her specialty. When the tires on on a typical road, things smooth out – but the sudden incoming call across the speakers of the car makes her groan. She peers through the rear view with a confirming nod to herself. ]
Yup. I see the big, annoyed dragon. Not sure how he's not breathing fire and burning the city down, but – [ No, she holds the Game of Thrones reference about him being the Spider of Dragons. It's too lame. ] 35. Final deal.
[ They hang-up without another word. Nothing else was needed. Felicia was a ride or die, one willing to get messy when the time came to it. Messy right now was comedically pathetic. No bullets, no warfare – literally just a pissed off dragon. The vehicle comes to a stop at the end of the pier next to oversized crates for shipment, the buzz of a helicopter zipping by too focused on going more towards Peter.
Doing what she's told has never been a thing with her, but she listens. The egg was transported with care, hefty and weighed down but it reaches the end of the pier where the flicker of dying pier lights show how nasty the surrounding bays were. Felicia was left babysitter, sure, but she sets the egg down with the care as if it was her own. Crouched down next to it, she looks down the portway – awaiting the view of a very fast moving dragon and faster spider? ]
no subject
When she got dressed tonight, slinked into her sexiest gown – low-cut and overflowing to the ground in her best, uncomfortable heels... she didn't expect to now be eggscorting something to the piers. Felicia has a habit of bringing bad luck, but this? Takes the cake. She isn't clued in on all the tech in the mobile, still annoyed she has to learn to drive it – she's a New Yorker, so driving isn't her specialty. When the tires on on a typical road, things smooth out – but the sudden incoming call across the speakers of the car makes her groan. She peers through the rear view with a confirming nod to herself. ]
Yup. I see the big, annoyed dragon. Not sure how he's not breathing fire and burning the city down, but – [ No, she holds the Game of Thrones reference about him being the Spider of Dragons. It's too lame. ] 35. Final deal.
[ They hang-up without another word. Nothing else was needed. Felicia was a ride or die, one willing to get messy when the time came to it. Messy right now was comedically pathetic. No bullets, no warfare – literally just a pissed off dragon. The vehicle comes to a stop at the end of the pier next to oversized crates for shipment, the buzz of a helicopter zipping by too focused on going more towards Peter.
Doing what she's told has never been a thing with her, but she listens. The egg was transported with care, hefty and weighed down but it reaches the end of the pier where the flicker of dying pier lights show how nasty the surrounding bays were. Felicia was left babysitter, sure, but she sets the egg down with the care as if it was her own. Crouched down next to it, she looks down the portway – awaiting the view of a very fast moving dragon and faster spider? ]