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[rehandle]

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OurPowers contact available at: Dr. Stephen Strange (public/business)
Instagram/Twitter contact available at: strangemagic (personal/stealth account)
Implant contact available at: stephen.strange (meadowlark craus only)

Comments

[rehandle]

[ But she did stop. And so she shouldn't really be too surprised when there comes the clearing of a throat from the wall by the window that is her most direct escape route, where Stephen Strange now leans with crossed arms, observing her mildly.

Hello. ]

[whimsikills]

[She springs like a cat, clinging her bag of stolen goodies to her chest as she catches sight of him. It's rare that anyone gets the jump on her. Her hearing - even before the shimmer - has always been keen. Every noise out of place, every little change to the air. But fucking wizards!!!! ]

Geez! [This is hissed as she breathes out a wild exhale. ] You are so creepy! Don't you know not to startle a girl!

[obviously you are in the wrong here stephen!!]

[rehandle]

You seem to have forgotten the 'don't break into people's houses, steal their things and paint on their walls' rule, so I'd say we're even.

[ He not going anywhere. After a brief glance over what he can see of the selection of pilfered items clutched in her arms, he adds without much change of inflection: ]

Careful not to drop those.

[ What now, Jinx? ]

[whimsikills]

This is art, Doc.

[Look, see? She signed it!] Anyway, you weren't usin' any of this stuff. It was dusty. So I'm just gonna take 'em, I'll leave through the front door -

[rehandle]

No.

[ He makes no move to block the way out of the room, but the no is fairly resounding for as lightly as it's left there. ]

Empty the bag and you can leave whichever way you like.

[whimsikills]

I dunno, Doc, your knees ain't looking all that spry. You gonna stop me?

[ There is, at her hip, a selection of grenades. They are not explosive, but like, her gun is etc etc. ] I'm pretty fast.

[rehandle]

I'm sure you are.

[ Forgive him for not looking remotely concerned. ]

[whimsikills]

[A pause. She tilts her head, looking from Stephen, to the door, then back again. Seconds, maybe; short enough a distance. She smiles, slow and reaches for a grenade - she is fast, but the smoke bombs are lighter weight than the explosives. It's all pink powder, and then she moves, fast.

Overconfident, perhaps, but it's never let her down before. ]

[rehandle]

[ And it doesn't let her down this time. She'll make it out of the room undisturbed, down the corridor and to the stairs and down as many flights as it takes to find daylight pooling in through the glass panes of the manor's front door.

Which is the approximate moment when a red blur catches her from the side, wrapping around to try catching arms tight to keep her from pulling any more stunts, yanking back and down to try and pull her off her balance.

Stephen waits on the threshold of the hallway to the kitchen, watching with the same nonchalant ease as he'd blocked the way upstairs to see if he'll need to intercede. ]