1964-01-17 - The Breakfast of Criminals
Summary: It's back to work, with the emergence of FoH, more gets added to the plate for the Brotherhood to tackle.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
domino hope raven lynette 

There was a reason for the name behind the Six Alarm Fire.

It was too bad Raven had forgotten it. But there are skills that one does not forget no matter how hard you try, which was to cook a good meal worthy of a king, or a slew of gods with bottomless stomachs, they'd reach no end in sight. So eggs were put on the 'grill'. Bacon first naturally. Biscuits in the oven and a side of maple oatmeal with blueberries and whatever the hell else sort of fruit that tops it. Was she going to make New York's fluffiest pancakes?

You goddamn right she was going to make New York's fluffiest pancakes! You got.. damn.. right.

But everything was set to aflame and sizzle as she remains in the kitchen, a semi-automatic rifle imported from Russia laid apart upon the counter top like a spread, grease lining her elbows as the blue woman takes it apart piece by piece, a dirtied rag close by to polish and clean the beastly weapon with her gaze occasionally upon the food, even at a deep bend to check and see if the biscuits themselves has risen along with the morning light.


Lynette enters the room. She had thought of sleeping there the night before. Something about the world around her just wasn't safe anymore. Closing the door behind herself, the serpent eyed girl looks toward the maternal practices of the blue-skinned killer, and offers her a blank, tired expression and wave of her fingers. Her clothing was a mess, covered in flowered spreads of crimson stains, and a drag of dried blood was still on her skin. A line rests on her throat, still healing, so it seems, and a pattern work of scarlet scales can be seen on the sides of her neck, fading back and up into her curls, the rest hidden away by her clothing.

Shuffling, dragging her boots toward the sofa, she keeps a rather massive knife in the grip of one hand, fingers tight and knuckles white from pressure; it might have even frozen that way from the cold weather, beating against the window now and then. Finally, she slumps, plopping down with a light bounce. Her legs sprawl before her, arms rest limp, doll like, by her sides. Finally, she speaks, "Mornin', chere."


Hope has partially disconnected.


Food is next to godliness for a modern urban nomad. The best that Raven can hope for from the other redhead lurking about is stirring or cracking eggs with direction. As far as it goes to making a meal, Hope's skills are somewhere between boiling water and setting the water on fire in a noxious pyroclastic flow that will wipe out half of Hell's Kitchen given the opportunity. It's the thought that counts, though, and she's plenty safe with a mixing bowl and a spoon or a turner to poke at eggs and a skillet. Otherwise hopes of having something that isn't flaming slag decreases substantially for simple lack of skill. Warily she eyes the oatmeal, as though the oats intend to burn while the middle retains the consistency of jelly, all because of an off look. Her fingers twitch around the wooden spoon in hand, prepared to strike the moment something happens.

"Still runny," she announces to Raven, assuring this will go with the cook's plans instead of running against them. Then she retreats to figure out what maple oatmeal ought to look like from afar, giving her a good look in turn at the woman walking in, scaled and bloody. Eyebrows arch but the question isn't given, simply a moment of contemplation before she changes tack. "I've got bandages and gauze in my bag. You have any kind do med kit round here, or do you have it handled yourself?"


There was a reason why the door was usually kept unlocked, the tenement was the most unsecure place within Hell's Kitchen, or so it seems. The tenement itself houses killers; Cain, Raven herself. Silencer when he comes and goes. Domino as well. Fred could be seen lumbering in and out of the building which allows people to think twice about renting near unless they have no choice. There was even word that there were Gods in the building.

Alias Investigations was on the lower floor, and maybe.. just maybe.. Fury still lingered in the building. If you wanted to find heroes and anti-heroes alike within one building, this is where you go. Coupled with Hope, Lynette, and Victor joining the ranks of the wayward few, all bases were covered. And all doors remain unlocked.

Lynette's entry was met with a slight scowl. Not because her manner of duress. Blood stains were a usual thing around Six Alarm Fire, Hope would soon come to realize this fact alone. "You wait. Once the edges of the scrambled egg turns white," she tells Hope, "you begin to stir. Continue to stir, the egg is still a living thing as it's being cooked. Grab the thin cut of cream cheese from the fridge, do not forget the pepper and salt. Keep it active, do not back away from it." Lessons, lessons about.

"Lynette." She states towards the woman, the metal soon placed down upon the counter top, both hands pressed to the flat of the surface with a little frown. "Victor Creed. Explain."

Whelp! There are the introductions! Hope, meet Lynette! Our resident voodoo mistress! Lynette, meet Hope! Our copycat extrodinaire!


"Nah, don' worry. Dis?" The girl questions, pulling at some slack fabric of her jacket. "Ain't mine." It takes her a moment to register the girl, and once she does, she sits up a bit, solid, jade eyes widening just so, and those slittled pupils forming into more like lines than anything else. "Hope? Merde, small world." She muses. Apparently, the two had met before, if only at brief moments.

Glancing back to Raven, she hadn't missed that initial 'scowl' from the shapeshifter. She doesn't react to it, at least at first, but once a name is brought up, the dark skinned Creole with flooftastic hair cants her head to the side. "'splain what? S'good man, n'good at what he does. If he came lookin', s'cause I talked wit'm 'bout it. S'strong. Ain't neva seen 'nybody do what he c'n do." Then, she frowns. "If y'don' want'm joinin', he don' have t'. I jus' t'ought, well…he'd be welcomed."


Hope probably hasn't backed away from anything since she was three, and the notion she might ever do that is cause for consternation. A soldier given her orders, she snaps a sharp, assertive nod in the blue woman's direction. Kid yourself not, there are many killers and then people like her, mercenaries of a sort, completely unafraid to answer a question with a gun before a word. She skims her way off to the fridge to collect the cream cheese, en route for any medical supplies needed to address their current situation. Might as well pick up the Philly along with the bandaids, right?

"Girl's gotta eat, cherie," she responds with a quirk of a grin to Lynette. As if that's the only reason either of them are here, but it suits her purposes. "Come watch me make a disaster of the eggs." Shoulders dance in a shrug at her own state, and she halts at the door, levering it open with a fair bit of strength to break the seal. Out comes the cream cheese, and her emerald gaze shoots back to the frying pan to make sure the eggs haven't turned into a flaming chicken that now runs around the kitchen. Burning down the tenement would be, in a word, awkward. Not precisely the way she wants to show up and say hi to the rest of the community.

The name Victor Creed clearly means nothing to her, but that's to be expected. The duck out of time isn't going to know about hatchlings from twelve generations earlier, for example.


Oh! They know each other! Expressions softened just a touch, Raven moving away from the counter top to approach the stove just as Hope had vacated it, an ovenmitt soon gripped and slipped upon her hand as the biscuits were taken out just as soon as the browning were to hit and slid next to the already finished and still sizzling bacon. "It's…" She starts to speak towards Lynette, bettering herself to keep quiet. "Yes. Victor is welcome. He came last night, we had a bit of a row. Though he did assist in disassembling this weapon before he disappeared into the night again." She turns away from the women, a clean rag taken up to carefully squeeze and pinch at her fingers. Muttered words underneath her breath as she looks over to watch the progress of Hope.

"Just a thin slice of cream cheese." She states, towel soon dropped upon the counter top, cabinents opened to search for the salt and pepper which was soon delivered to the stove and put down. "We'll add the chives in but a moment." With that said. "Victor Creed." She explains to both of the women now, her head nodding to give them an up and up upon her own viewings of the man.

"Is a man without hesitation and restraint. With just his bare hands alone, I've seen him do to a man what a blast of shrapnel could do to a mans flesh. I am unsure if I have ever told you about the Wolverine.." She looks to each of them in turn. "..but if you wanted something done, in the most messiest, god-fearing way possible, you call them both." One would think that she was frightened, but somewhere deep in that black heart of hers, there was pride.

"I had the pleasure in my long life to have met him before to now. So imagine my surprise when he turns up upon our doorstep to offer aid."

Though, that night was a lot different then what she explains. She told him to get the hell out! There -may- be a wee bit of bad blood there. Who's to say! "Hope, you should get to know the man. I believe his ferocity in battle would be right up your alley. It may even tickle you pink."


"Dat y'do, chere. Dat y'do." Lynette agrees; she was never one against food, especially of the free kind. Being off the streets herself, it was something she'd never take for granted. Her eyes flutter before closing, resting them for a moment. Her fingers twitch, and finally she releases her death grip on the blade.

"He ain't dat bad. I mean, when he's fightin', yeah…good luck stoppin'm, but…s'got purpose n'reason, too. M'sorry he didn' stay t'help y', dough. He takes t'wanderin'. Don' t'ink he's gotta rid of 's wander-lust jus' yet." Opening her eyes once more, they remain reptilian, but at least the thin line on her throat has gone away, 'healed' as if it had never been there. Standing, she starts to remove her jacket and scarf. Shuffling toward the sink, she rolls up the messy, bloody sleeves of her sweater and starts to was her hands. "S'good y'lettin'm join." A pause, "Ah, so dat Logan guy's a mean fuck, too? Huh, I wouldn've guessed, t'be honest."

Finishing, she reaches for a clean towel and starts pat drying her limbs. The run of the diamond like power seems to continue down her arms, as well, stopping just above her wrists. "Merde…s'spreadin'. 'nyway, how y'all doin'? Did y'read de paypa dis mornin'?"


A bit of knifework and peeling foil back prepares the cream cheese, and Hope comes up with a narrow strip to toss onto the eggs as soon as the moment looks convenient. This handiwork she performs with precision absent in knowing how to flip said egg, though stirring it up with the wooden spoon will be no difficulty on her part. Lynette's discomfort with that knife is noted, a blind eye turned in her direction to allow her some privacy on that front. It doesn't warrant staring or making deeper inquiries.

"Heard about the Wolverine. Nasty thing to take down," she agrees, throwing that out there. "Not someone I would care to meet without a lot of firepower." The way her gaze slides to the gun and flashes away indicates that is not nearly enough firepower in her books. Maybe the whole US Naval Fleet opening fire on said man might do it. She keeps scrambling up the eggs while the cream cheese melts, losing its consistency and mixing in. Pepper and salt won't be forgotten. She knows how to use those two spices well enough, throwing them in. "I got enough troubles without reading papers. Messes with my head to bother. Everything's all out of sync."

A shrug of her shoulders follows.


"Oh honey, we're all bad." Raven counters. But that didn't mean she wasn't listening and watching Hope prepare the eggs as she does. Despite the reservation in the act, and Hope's words against her skill, she was coming along nicely.

"Oh no no. He did what I needed him to do. But as long as he learns the way of this neighborhood and how to get here and back, he should be right as rain." Yes, Creed was invited to the Brotherhood, though she didn't exactly tell -him- that. Though now that Lynette was on the move, Raven gestures in her direction. "What happened?" Curiousities would be eased this day, as Raven steps forward to wrap the metal pieces into the blanket that it sat upon, bundling the unattached parts within her hand. "Yes. Though Logan is a different animal of sorts if you compare him to Creed. Similiar, yet different. However, same level of brutality and ferocity. Try not to upset the two."

Wise words given, and soon her hand lifts to point towards Hope and her words. Yes. Firepower. All of the fire power. "There was a time when I've actually ran over Logan with a tank." He's still alive, guess how that worked out?

"It would be important, Hope, to acclimate our news into what you have already stored in that brilliant brain of yours. But no. I haven't read the newspaper this morning. I'm still 'settling' in, as it were."


"Ah, m'sorry. I don', well, when I first met y', I didn' really get y'story, Hope. Y'were kinda tight lipped 'bout it. Which s'fine. I get dat." Lynette explains, offer hope a soft smile. Finally dry, she looks to Raven and nods. "T'anks. I 'tell'm de next time I see'm." Then comes her questioning. "Ah, y'know, I dunno. Had a big ol' Russian turn up at de C'gar Fact'ry. Turns out, s'mbody's payin'm t'hunt me down n'take me back where I came from. Creed was dere, dough, so…didn' work." Pointing toward the sofa, she then explains. "Dat's s'knife. M'keepin' it." A trophy from Kraven the Hunter; how pretty.

Turning, the baby mambo rests back on an open slip of counter, casually crossing her arms under her petite chest. "D'F.o.H., dey hit up Mut'nt Town last night. S'trash, n'lot dead." Pausing, she nibbles at her lower lip and glances down. "Sorry, bein' de storm crow dis mornin'."


Domino has arrived.


The stirring consumes a good bit of Hope's attention. She has a knack for the rhythm, setting her sights on mastering this whole damn egg business because a girl as quick moving as she is needs all the protein and healthy food she can get. Raven needn't worry about her burning the eggs at the moment, though she does look thoughtfully at the remainder of the cream cheese. She perseveres, and doesn't bother adding more, for all her fingers practically twitch to add more in. Look at the way it melts! The creaminess is calling out to her starved little soul. More cheese, no more cheese. Her implement scrapes the bottom of the skillet.

"Mm. Sounds like fun. Figure I get a big enough round and put a hole through the likes of him, it'd keep him down for a bit. The ones who say it tickles are the ones who make me worry." Whether she thinks of flattening Creed or Logan, it doesn't much make a difference. In the end it's all a matter of a logic puzzle, rather than an actual plan of any sort. "I'm not from around here. Not at all," she waves her hand lightly. "Keeping my head down until it all makes sense. I'm kind of displaced. Until I find my dad, anyways." Another of those half shrugs follows. "I don't like the attitudes people have around here towards a lot of things, and she," here she nods to Raven, "is doing something about it. So I'm going to help. Because I don't want to see things take an ugly turn. I've seen how that goes. It's not good for anyone." That's two storm crows for one morning.


It's good that the front door isn't locked around this place. It isn't likely to survive long as a door otherwise. No warning is given before said door flies open and a completely monochrome-hued lady steps in, stops short with hand on handle and one foot inside of the safehouse proper as she stares at the small group with icy pale eyes. What started at as a hardened stare has changed into an almost confused looking one.

"… Hey." Almost immediately after she jabs a finger at the Russian rifle lying in parts upon the table, pointedly asking Raven "Where did you get that?"

Oh hey, something's cooking. Smells like she showed up at just the right time.


To ask Lynette where she came from would just be inviting Raven to spill out many of her own truths. The truths were long and very old, some stories blended in together and were past forgotten unless revived by an odd smell or a turn of a phrase. "Ah. Russians." As if it explained the way the sun rises. A glance was given to the blade, and soon her brows furrow, the bundle of disjointed weaponry soon walked towards the couch, the mess of metal dropped lightly upon the table as she picks it up to examine it, even if it had blood and bits upon it. "Draw me a picture." Yes. Draw. There were many skills that those who linger within this house has, here's to hoping Lynette had that one!

Though, as she delivers the bad news, her shoulders slump considerably. The draw of emotions soon sucked out of the room with a breath as she steeles her jaw with a clench as if she had a finger to bite. The blade was twirled, it all seemed to go so nonchalantly if there wasn't a coldness that crept up her very spine.

And then Hope. Hope speaks of the realism of her own world comparing to theirs. Things were about to get real, real quick. So she might as well start with the marching orders and the divulging of information as she could. Perhaps, something may shake aloose in Hope's noggin to give them all perspective.

"I think it's due time we set everything into motion." She states, turning her yellow eyed gaze upon the women there. The beauties of the Brotherhood. Her own ear was tuned to the door.

"In a warehouse not too far from here, Hope and I have captured a few creatins that we believe to be apart of the kidnapping of mutants that happened at the docks. Some Vigor inspired dosing. I don't know what they're doing with them, but we're going to find out." She snaps her fingers then, and drops the blade back upon the couch. "I want feet down in Mutant town and the surrounding areas. If there is any remaining members of that band of fucking humans, I want them found and brought to me. Whatever condition you decide is on you. But alive."

There was a pause as the door flings open, Raven's words cut off with the sight of Domino. Good. All hands on deck. "And find me some Vigor." With those words, Raven moves from her spot near the couch and back into the kitchen proper, gathering plates to assemble the meal, and as an afterthought? "It was imported." Meaning the rifle. "Want it?" Yes. They have a cache. And a military base.


"Give me s'm paper. Or…wait…maybe I try s'mt'ing, non?" She requests, pressing off the counter and walking toward her fellow scaley miss. She pauses at first, looking at the door as yet another member enters. The bloody, snaked eyes youth offers Domino a wave, even if it's apathetic and lazy, at least she ends it with a weak smile.

"Wait, what warehouse s'dis? I been talkin' wit dat Wilson Fisk guy 'bout dat. Met 'is wife n'shook hands wit'er. Had a vision 'bout a party at s'm warehouse. Dey kids dere, music, n' Vigor, too." She doesn't explain what happens to said wife, however. "N' I seen Remy dere, wit s'm girl, lean, dark hair."

Remembering her 'mission', she takes a breath and stands before Raven now. Once the gun offer is made to Domino, she glances at the pair before resting out and setting her soap scented fingers on the woman's brow. Her lips move, silently speaking some mantra as the slits of her pupils dilate, growing fat and then shrinking tight once more. The connection doesn't last long, and once done, the girl staggers back and shakes her head. "Sorry. Ain't a smooth ride jus' yet."


"Vigor's kind of the easy part. This blonde woman is trading it out of Farrell's Bar in Hell's Kitchen. She marks up the doses she has with different coloured dots, and better yet, I've got fingerprints. You people can actually use those right now, right?" Hope looks up from her cooking only now and then. It's hard work, not knowing what the hell she is doing, so she has to modify her attention span to make up for it. Look up, look down, and there you go. "Hell, I've got two sets of them in case you need to see. She was there last night when things got stupid. I didn't tail her out of the place because I wasn't sure what the hell it was until someone went and named it. Drug that turns people into like… baby mutants or something. It's a fucking stupid idea."

She's got a mouth on her. Welcome to the mouth in question. Her tongue clacks against her palate and teeth for good measure. "It's hard enough if you have something and know what you're doing, but mimicking that is just…" She shakes her head, her ponytail swishing like the tail of an irritated cat. Pulling the skillet off the heat source, she sets it aside and looks at the rest of the stove as though it has an answer or two there. Domino is not someone she knows, either, and the answer to that is to stare for a moment.

Then shake her head, and give a bit of a salute by way fo wave. "Hi. We're having breakfast. Like oatmeal?"


"Stupid question," Domino flatly replies to Raven as she first sheds and flings a heavy black coat off to the side then makes a bee-line straight for the disassembled rifle in question. Hers now! A seat is claimed at the table and she goes about inspecting the parts since they're already broken down. It just wouldn't do to reassemble a dirty or broken firearm. Or something which Raven secretly disabled. Or rigged to explode.

It wouldn't be the first time with her.

The exchange between Lynette and Raven is mostly missed up until the Cajun recoils from the experience, earning a thin frown from the albino. "What, did her skin turn toxic while I was away?" Lyn having visions is one trick Dom doesn't yet know about.

It's only after Hope's greeting and offering of food that Domino returns the courtesy of a long stare. "Sure." It's soon followed by a quick incline of her chin, asking "What's your story?" Hope is new to her, and it sounds like there's some curious complications surrounding the other lady as well.

As far as talk of Vigor goes, she remains completely silent. And wholly detached. Like she's trying to turn a deaf ear to the entire subject. Sweep it right under the proverbial rug and promptly forget about it forever, except maybe to set fire to it a time or four.


Raven shrugs slightly towards Lynette, she could try whatever she wanted, as long as it didn't kill her. Sure, that is to be said what Raven has tried before. Marijuana. LSD. Opium…

"A warehouse over near St. Michael's Church." Remy with a dark-haired girl? That.. was interesting. He's been off the reservation for a while, it was high time they caught up. But little did she know, he was possibly two floors below her the entire time. As the plates were assembled, food would be reached for and doled out as needed, each getting their own servings with her being the only one left out. Even still, after all of these months, it takes a while for Raven to chow down like the rest would.

But as Lynette lays hands upon Raven, her eyes close briefly, her mind working, brain crawling and shifting to accept the images as part of her own memory.. and yet.. something slips loose.

A small and quiet memory of Raven and Charles Xavier, arguing in front of Erik Lensherr, in which Charles breaks the pot as Raven turns her back to leave..
The scene itself speeds up for Lynette's viewing. A blue hand holding onto a little girl's who skips happily up towards the same mansion; greeted by Charles with a kind smile and a hug shared between the three.

Raven staggers for a slight moment, her head shaking briefly, her nose wrinkling as she begins to sniff, fingers pressed to and nearly pinched. It.. was a rough ride indeed, one that has her skin bleeding the color red and soon a pale tan as she shifts almost immediately into a new self. "Goddamn it.." She hisses quietly, then shoves the plates forward towards the two women, leaving Domino to grab her own from its place.

"Find that woman and get me three bags full." Raven quietly murmurs, clearing her throat, her eyes slowly becoming red as she turns towards the faucet to run some water. Just for the sound..

Domino was not forgotten either, but she had nothing to say at the moment, she had to decompress everything that she's seen in that quick little vision.


Lynette doesn't comment on the vision. She notes the faces, some she knew, others she didn't. But, it was over for now, and a conversation for later. "Nah, chere." She murmurs to Domino before claiming up her plate and sitting to eat like the odd family they were. "S'de link dat's de rough part, s'all. M'still, well…learnin'." Silent now, she simply listens as the other speak, more than content to stuff her face. The food shovels in, as much as she can, until her cheeks puff out and she chews behind closed lips. It was an old habit, and it would die hard, or not at all.


The vision isn't something Hope sees but when Raven is obviously having a moment, Hope watches her from the corner of her eye without blinking. Funny how long a person can go without batting an eyelash when they consciously focus on it. It's not as long as you think unless one is a sniper and, ding ding, three of four ladies in the vicinity are studied in that!

She takes a plate instead of asks after the blue killer in a changed face. Better to focus on food, which provides the major concern anyways. The table provides refuge where she can fill her face with eggs, biscuits, and oatmeal at a speed that would make an officer proud. She is a girl clearly starved, wolfish and efficient about her meal, short of stuffing her face full. Not really her style, there. "I'm Hope." This answers Domino. "I come from a land down under where women glow and men plunder." Idle comment, really, the rhythm rolling to some kind of music locked up in her head.

"I'm a refugee, kind of. Came here looking for my father. Haven't found him, found you lot instead, so I do what I can to help right now."


Well. This is the first time Domino's ever seen a red Raven before. The display is as strange as it ever was, though it's interesting to note that the shapeshifter perhaps hadn't been in full control of that alteration. -Three full bags,- though? She doesn't comment on the matter but she is most definitely listening and filing away the details for later!

There's no complaining about having to get her own plate. It gets worked into her own queue, as does actually eating anything off of it.

"A link, huh," she starts in before starting in on the eggs. In another instant that cooked wad just sits there in her mouth as her expression once again completely changes. "What on Earth did you put in these?" Once again, blissfully ignorant of the smaller details.

Hope earns her attention next. "Congratulations on having the most upbeat name here." Then, "Yeah..we seem to have a knack for bringing in strays. Welcome, etcetera. I go by Domino, or Neena if that's too weird for you." As if her nickname is the strangest thing around this place!

There's a muttered "This is really good" before she stuffs another forkful of egg into her maw.


"A psychic link." Raven confirms. Or.. whatever the hell that was. Either way, she's changed and there was no going back for a time, might as well get comfortable in this skin and her, manner of dress. Which was boring. White blouse and a pencil skirt? She looked like she was going to work in someones goddamned office. But as Hope tells her story, Raven reaches out for a clean glass to fill it with water, her hand pressing against the edge of it to take a few sips, then leaves it upon the counter for later use as she lets out a little grunt.

Raven would not say what was in those eggs. For she forgot to add in the chives, a moment missed makes her shake her head in dismay as she begins to place the dishes into the sink for cleaning. "I need you two to link up with some new recruits. I don't care how or where you have to steal them from. I want to operate at full capacity once the week is out. Are we clear?"


"It is." This after many, many bites confirm the eggs are wonderful and the pancakes are probably this side of heavenly, potentially enough to make angels come down and beat Raven senseless for stealing their delicious recipes. Or they will steal it: that conveys succinctly enough the situation they are in. "She had me put in creamcheese. And chives. And magic spice." Pepper, also known as the magic spice, proves Hope actually comes from 17th century Holland at the height of the Dutch republic. She probably pays for things in guilders and spooks at the sight of Spaniards, the original evil imperial overlords.

"If you want it undone…" Whatever that means, she never finishes, but simply nods to Raven. The secret of the eggs is out, but this? It'll do. "What do you want me to do for the linking, and what do you need? I can bring in whatever, though I'm also going to point out this… Humanity First or Friends of Humanity group or whatever, is mass-murdering people from the way I've heard tell and I really don't know what it takes to be called genocide around here. Except that, you know, if the leadership wanders past, I'm going to go put a few slugs of lead into their skulls unless otherwise told not to. Because really, we have bigger problems than them and…" She pinches her fingers to the brow of her nose, her pretty face wrought with irritation. "I just wish I could say when. I know it's coming, but it's like… a storm over the horizon. It's there. I see it. Hell, I can tell you it's going to be Forte Three A One, Alpha level event, but that doesn't help if I can't give you a time. Only a place. Lyn thinks she's the worst doom crow? I"m like … vague crow. And this sucks."


Dom's not always been the best for following orders without hesitation. Sometimes it takes, sometimes not so well. Today is more of the latter, it's not a stretch to picture bristly thorns jutting out from her body as soon as Raven lays out the order of the day. At the 'are we clear' question Neena's fork *tinks* against the plate and stays there, as if she's mentally jabbing it into someone's skull instead of a well used dish.

"Names and locations," she grunts in return, though no part of her is sounding thrilled about the task. Her attention may have gotten to be much more divided during her absence… Who knows if her loyalties have shifted any along the way.

This irritation is promptly set aside as she sloooowly lifts her gaze up away from the plate to (once more) stare at Hope with a laser-like intensity. She has a lot to say. Most of it the albino understands, too. All said and told, a thin smirk crosses Dom's face. "I like that attitude."

What remains of breakfast will be swiftly dealt with. Then it's back to work, apparently.

Maybe she should have stayed out for a little while longer.


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