[Don't look so excited, Ramir, he might think you're enjoying yourself. Anyway, maybe they did. The senior recruits (read: talking cats) that gave them the bomb plans seemed to think this would do it. And it's a nice idea. One mission down for the crew to put on their supposed tab, less to worry about for the more magically inclined of them. And a net gain for the natives, of course. Still feels too messy, if not precisely too easy. But then, it is, apparently, magic.
Still, he follows at a close distance and answers with the distracted dissatisfaction of the vexed detective type, eyes out in the distance in case of imps.]
Maybe. Still leaves us a lot of loose ends.
[But maybe it's just him. Growing up in Gotham teaches you not to put much stock in something until you can sell it. If something looks too good to be true, it's probably going to kick you in the teeth and make off with your wallet. Something shifts on the horizon, and he raps his knuckles against her shoulder to be sure she caught sight of it.]
no subject
Still, he follows at a close distance and answers with the distracted dissatisfaction of the vexed detective type, eyes out in the distance in case of imps.]
Maybe. Still leaves us a lot of loose ends.
[But maybe it's just him. Growing up in Gotham teaches you not to put much stock in something until you can sell it. If something looks too good to be true, it's probably going to kick you in the teeth and make off with your wallet. Something shifts on the horizon, and he raps his knuckles against her shoulder to be sure she caught sight of it.]
Guess there's one way to find out.
[Incoming.]