She hates to admit it, hates to think back about how she thought they were pretty lame and Peter more than they were the daring Spider her initial infatuation came from. So much had changed since they were young and more at home in their costumes, chasing the moon across rooftops... but that? She can rely on it, even in the most inopportune times. He may catch a glance of those emerald greens looking to him with less judgment and more amusement – but it was fleeting, brief. ]
Plans are a luxury not even I can always afford. When I got dressed today, I didn't think it was mixing lace and leather.
[ Visualize that, Spider.
When they hit the ground, she unhooks the a small cannister from her wrist, hidden under white fluff. The metal orb rolls between her clawed grip, weighed down until it settles into her palm. The motion-sensor lights make her whistle a bit – squinting at the view. ]
No pressure or anything, jeez. If luck is on our side, this will be easy.
[ Did she jinx herself? Luck was, in the grand scheme of things, not kind to her – but that's why she wields it. She stands there looking across the hallway, no camera blinking to life – she must have diverted that power with her initial hacking. That was good. He calls for her, encouraging her and she'll take a knee carefully. Her claw pierces into the smokebomb – a billowing hiss of gray smoke pours out soon after. One hand covers her mouth and within seconds to not breathe it all in, but at least now they can see the grid of tight angles of infrared light. ]
Ugh, totally like a spy movie. Take the ceiling, I got it down here.
[ His job was easy, hers was the more difficult one. She doesn't have actual sticky fingers – so through an opening between red beams, she rolls the gas bomb like rolling a strike. With the precise skill of a trained gymnast and typical white girl yoga enthusiast... she'll just spend her time crawling, ducking, stretching, and reaching across the hallway until she reaches the other side with a slide onto her knees. ]
no subject
She hates to admit it, hates to think back about how she thought they were pretty lame and Peter more than they were the daring Spider her initial infatuation came from. So much had changed since they were young and more at home in their costumes, chasing the moon across rooftops... but that? She can rely on it, even in the most inopportune times. He may catch a glance of those emerald greens looking to him with less judgment and more amusement – but it was fleeting, brief. ]
Plans are a luxury not even I can always afford. When I got dressed today, I didn't think it was mixing lace and leather.
[ Visualize that, Spider.
When they hit the ground, she unhooks the a small cannister from her wrist, hidden under white fluff. The metal orb rolls between her clawed grip, weighed down until it settles into her palm. The motion-sensor lights make her whistle a bit – squinting at the view. ]
No pressure or anything, jeez. If luck is on our side, this will be easy.
[ Did she jinx herself? Luck was, in the grand scheme of things, not kind to her – but that's why she wields it. She stands there looking across the hallway, no camera blinking to life – she must have diverted that power with her initial hacking. That was good. He calls for her, encouraging her and she'll take a knee carefully. Her claw pierces into the smokebomb – a billowing hiss of gray smoke pours out soon after. One hand covers her mouth and within seconds to not breathe it all in, but at least now they can see the grid of tight angles of infrared light. ]
Ugh, totally like a spy movie. Take the ceiling, I got it down here.
[ His job was easy, hers was the more difficult one. She doesn't have actual sticky fingers – so through an opening between red beams, she rolls the gas bomb like rolling a strike. With the precise skill of a trained gymnast and typical white girl yoga enthusiast... she'll just spend her time crawling, ducking, stretching, and reaching across the hallway until she reaches the other side with a slide onto her knees. ]
You good?