Adopting a Magnet part 1
Roleplaying Log: Adopting a Magnet part 1
IC Details

Lorna joins the Guardians of the Galaxy in space. It'll be fine.

Other Characters Referenced:
IC Date: June 30, 2019
IC Location:
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 01 Jul 2019 03:44
Rating & Warnings:
Scene Soundtrack: [* ]
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

Sometimes an event is so rare it can barely be said to have happened at all, if but for the aftermath of it's incredible momentum. A neutrino, interacting with a piece of matter. Three black holes colliding in a dance of death. A McDonalds, with a functioning ice cream machine. And perhaps rarest of all, Atli Wodendottir, putting two and two together.

While watching an episode of Our Planet with her good friends Rocket and Groot, who may or may not be asleep at this point, she looks to the television as the narrator goes on about geese and other migratory birds. "Verily, that's it! Fair Rocket, Wise Groot! Prepare the ship, for the goat is sick after devouring far to much of The Taco Bell. How they get pieces of bell inside their feasts to produce such a ringing sensation upon the insides is foul magic indeed." The goat snores in the distance, sleeping the Bendersleep. Atli realizes she has thrust a burrito to the sky, promptly drops the half eaten thing to the side and picks up her spear. "I shall return shortly, with our secret weapon. And also, perhaps we should just keep this between us, since it involves perhaps quite a bit of pirate booty."


"And so you see, Lady Lorna, Queen of Magnets, Scott Adsit said you were a formidable warrior, and since our mission is of dire importance and these.. Shield-folk seem to require we take one of theirs along when saving the world, I thought perhaps you might wish to come along." And then Atli hits her with that oblivious smile, a thumb thrust over her shoulder to the waiting ship outside, and then her brow scrunches up, just a little, The smile does not diminish.

"Did I mention it's in space?"


For the record, yes, Rocket was indeed asleep and may or may not be in some stage of waking up even as Atli tries to coerce one Lorna Dane to join them on their… Wait.

"So…where're we going again?" the small Guardian yawns, stretching out his arms and nearly tipping the ship over with the same motion from his feet as one taps the steering yoke. Maybe he should properly park the thing, but he'd been assured this wouldn't take long. Rocket hadn't really been listening and figures either way, Atli will come with a hapless victim over her shoulder if not following her merely out of befuddlement.


"I'm gonna kill Scott Adsit," is the first thing Lady Lorna, Queen of Magnets, First of her Name, has to say in response.

Wherever Lorna happened to be at the moment' was, in fact, at the Starbucks near the Roosevelt Island F station, which is the only subway on and off the island. She's fresh from one of her regular probation meetings at the new SHIELD headquarters, and as such is not in the greatest of moods. And that's before Atli Wodendottir descended upon her green head.

With a sigh, Lorna swivels slowly towards Atli, iced coffee firmly in hand. The weather's had a spike of heat over the weekend, and she's dressed accordingly in a black tank top and jeans, her green hair falling across her shoulders in waves and her customary array of steel chain necklaces hung about her neck. She also wears a highly suspicious look.

Only the last seems like fitting attire for a space jaunt.

"So you need a chaperone, basically," Lorna assesses. "A liaison. A SHIELD point of contact. Jeez, everyone must be busy as hell if they're hitting the bottom of the barrel with me." She lifts a finger. "All right — not like I got a lotta choice — but do I get to finish my coffee?"


Previously: Groot snorts, drowsily blinking as he jerks his head up at the mention of 'the Taco Bell.' Half of him is already sunken into one of numerous fast food bags the Guardians had procured earlier, those scrawny tree arms still hugging it close in case the munchies strike again.

Right as Atli leaves on an errand, he watches, vision still sort of bleary from sleep before everything turns dark yet again.

Now that the Asgardian has returned, the treenager grumbles, one hand rubbing his eye as the other lazily digs through the taco bag that slides down into his lap. He doesn't bother wiping away the line of drool running down the corner of his mouth as he also casts a wary look Lorna's way.r
During all of this, he finally finds a taco, crunching on it all the while everyone else is talking. "I am Groot."


There is no good reason why Phil Coulson should know about this. Except…

Big Brother. Big Brother is definitely watching, and he is definitely piping a good bit of information straight to Coulson. And so when this motley crew gets to the Milano…

They'll find him there. Just settling in with a travel cup of coffee. Like this was planned. Like he was here all along.

"Is this sharks again?" he asks, mildly. "I hope it's not sharks again. Their gift to me was very disturbing."


Atli smile-squints just after Lorna mentions 'chaperone', her head tilting just so. "That word sounds made up. Besides, we don't need any of those things, Lady Lorna. What we need is your warrior spirit, your fighting prowess, and the inspiring vision of your emerald locks cascading across the battlefield as you twist metal around your foes until they perish in horrible agony!" Her enthusiasm is punctuated by a series of little punches to the air. "Of course, coffee is certainly allowed on our space galleon. Our Captain, Fair Rocket, is most magnanimous about beverages. In fact, if you'd like something stronger simply ask and all the Asgardian spirits your mortal form can handle will be provid-"

Atli says this as she waves Lorna onwards, back towards the waiting ship, which has of course brought traffic to a standstill. It's Phil's words that bring Atli's thought to a halt, but she does point to his coffee, as if proof that Lorna can finish it right here. There is an awkward moment, when Atli turns to look at Lorna, eyes wide, and then back to Phil, looking very much as if her hand has been caught in a cookie jar of some sorts. "No, no! Nothing like that. Well.." A handwobble. "You see, I sent Battlemaster Gorax a raven a few days ago to check in, and he told me the most astounding thing."


"No, Gorax! Listen to me, you don't give the the raven a message to return to me! Verily, we are not savages. Do you see how it's mouth is talking with my voice? Now if you just squeeze it a little and talk into it's mouth, I'll hear your voice. What?! No you can't eat it once you're done with it!"


"Ah! Son of Coul! Lady Lorna, the Son of Coul, our longstanding ally and great pleaser of Valkyries. And that up there is Fair Rocket, our Captain, and Wise Groot, our tree.

She claps her hands together.

So! it seems some foolish Shi'ar pirates decided to attack a refugee ship stopping over in Midgard's solar system to recharge it's solar battery, and Gorax's men saw them in retreat. And since Lord Glorywing forbade me from simply marching over to the Shi'ar homeworld to beat some answers out of them concerning this whole bird-box business, this is a prime opportunity to Fix Everything. Pirates are criminals, and we are heroes, and it's our job to stop criminals! Especially if they're menacing Midgard!"

Atli looks to Rocket.

She tactically leaves out the part about taking all of their stuff.

"Now, I have it on good authority another ship will be stopping over at the edge of the system, out past the rock you mortals call Pluto. If we simply wait there, we should be able to catch them, board them, and get some answers about why they attacked the shark people, and why they're being such fools in general."


Lorna grimaces a little. "I was told to cool it a little on the killing folks in horrible agony," she says, with some regret, which might be an affectation just for the purposes of humor. Or it might not. "But I suppose I've got the rest of that. I just — wait, we aren't going to be killing people, are we? That's probably not in the terms of my probation…"

Atli is already marching off towards the ship. Trailing afterwards with a marked resignation, it's with a bit of mingled surprise and relief that Lorna notes Phil Coulson is already there. Well if he's around, then probably this jaunt won't be of the sort to get her in trouble. Right? Right.

Atli's mention of Asgardian spirits might also have lured her in, to be perfectly honest.

She lifts her coffee in a sardonic salute, as the introductions are made, but otherwise holds her silence, green eyes a little narrowed, as Atli speaks of Shi'ar pirates raiding refugees menacing the Midgardian solar system. It all seems straightforward, except…

"Who the hell is Lord Glorywing?" is Lorna's unimpressed opinion. "Now that sounds made-up."

After the sitrep concludes, she looks down into her coffee, as if wishing it had something a bit (a lot) stronger in it. "Okay. I guess I'm in. …Can we pre-game with the Asgardian spirits?"


Ears perk as Atli's voice carries in through the open hatch of the ship, and Rocket cranes himself about in the pilot's seat to look towards the steps leading down to the rest of the ship. Just how many people was she thinking of kidnapping this time? With a roll of his eyes, he hops down from his seat, making his way to the edge of the platform to look down at Atli and her motley crew.

"Huh. Didn't know Deadeye was comin' along," he notes, offering the man a nod as he folds his arms. He shoots a look towards Atli. "Wait, Shi'ar? What about the Shi'ar?" He must have been asleep when she'd talked about that part. If she'd talked about that part. Honestly he was in something of a food coma at the time. Of course Atli's continued on in her explanation, and Rocket can only close his toothy maw before something flies into it.

And then he catches a glimpse of green hair. Oh yeah, this must be a new person who is otherwise unfamiliar with the confusing ways of Atli Wodendottir. He'll feel sorry for her later. Presently, he'll just…admire the view from up here.

"Deadeye knows where the booze is. We all in or did you invite a small army with you that I don't know about, Atli? Otherwise, I'm taking us out before them Registration psychos ping us," he says, giving a wave of a clawed hand as he turns and makes his way back to his seat. Time to jet.


As the rest of the taco is stuffed into his wooden maw, Groot chews, dropping the bag entirely while wiping the crumbs away (kind of) as he gets up to follow Rocket to the ship.

Of course he has to do a double-take at Coulson. It's confusing to see Deadeye comfortably sitting there like he's part of the furniture. And it's so much squinting. "I am Groot," he mutters a greeting (or as close to one as he can manage) in the agent's direction, pushing his way past everyone else in the meantime to get to his preassigned seat.

Click. Harness click. Boom. Minor things aside, he's ready to go, pulling out his gaming device to fill in the time between space travel.


Coulson's lips twitch at everyone's shock. And maybe a little, too, at Lorna's relief. He gets his pleasures where he may, and his surprise appearances are good for quite a bit of fun.

That said, he sometimes has as much trouble following Atli's Fix Everything Narratives as anyone else. "Stop pirates threatening our planet. Threatening the poor helpless giant shark people. Board and question and bring to justice. Alright."

The trick is really just to ignore the incomprehensible bits, and to zero in on what matters.

He himself owes 'Lord Glorywing' a debt of gratitude, which is why he does not, in fact, reveal that he knows exactly who Atli is talking about. It would be a poor repayment to let that name somehow get attached to him if he can stop it. "It's a top secret codename, Lord Glorywing," he says solemnly. "Atli, you musn't reveal it. It's been encoded in strict protocols now."


"Anything for the most beautiful of the Magnet People I have yet to meet." This is technically true. Pietro might actually be more beautiful, but Atli hasn't cornered him in this reality just yet. Atli reaches for her Everflowing Flask, untwists the top and motions for Lorna to offer up her coffee. "Lord War-" But Coulson says it must remain a secret, and she reaches out to squeeze Lorna's shoulder. "My apologies. Some things are simply to dangerous to share. Protocols."

Atli motions to one of the free seats. In fact, it's the one Quill usually sits in. "You might have to tighten that strap a bit." And then she settles in next to Lorna, beaming over at her with undiminished excitement at their coming endeavor. From somewhere below, there is a constant sound. The sound of the Bendersleep, snoring away as he sleeps on Quill's bed.

"Just the army of my spirit, Captain Rocket, which of course, is mighty. And of course, the Son of Coul, who's physical and emotional accuracy is unmatched in all the realms."

As they strap in, distribute appropriately strong drinks, and Atli gives a piece of paper with coordinates (written in Crayon) to Rocket.

"Hmm, well. I imagine the Shi'ar are quite like Pigeon-People, and I have yet to see anyone care very much if a pigeon is mangled by metal bending all about it's body." This she whispers to Lorna, conspiratorially.

Then, the whole ship rumbles as it begins to race towards the sky, and Atli tilts her flask back and prepares for battle in the only way that ever really works.


Once again rolling his eyes at Atli's over-the-top nicknames, Rocket however nods, glad that they won't be overcrowded in the ship. He takes the paper from the Asgardian by reflex, reaching over to punch in coordinates before pausing as he finds himself squinting at crayon marks. That's… a five, right? Maybe? A claw tapping at the the edge of the screen, he finally shrugs. "Eh, what the hell." And taps in the coordinates.

"Hope everyone's strapped in!" he shouts over his shoulder as he grabs a hold of the yoke with one hand, his other one flipping switches, a few of which he gets with a stretch of his toes. Glancing over at Lorna, he gives her a wink- that was with the right eye, right? -and then pulls back on the controls, the ship tilting upwards and then zooming up into the blue beyond…and indeed beyond.

Darkness speckled with stars soon replaces the not so infinite blue, and the computer screens beep and blink. "Hang on back there!" With a cackle, he punches a button and the coordinates lock in before stars streak into lines and the front viewport is all awash in an electric shock of colors.

"The… magnet people." Lorna takes another swig of her coffee. "You know it's just me and — and — " Nope. Not saying the name. Not even thinking it. "I don't really think there's enough of us to qualify as a people," she deflects instead, though when she's offered a pour from a flask she promptly holds out her coffee to receive.

It helps cut the sting of not being Authorized to know the identity of the mysterious Lord Glorywing — though Phil's solemnness draws a somewhat suspicious look. That's just a little too solemn, Agent Coulson. "Protocols," Lorna sighs. "Sooo fucking many of them."

For all her disaffected display, however, this is definitely — way weirder than anything she's seen to date, even after SHIELD sprung her out of prison, and she's taking in the sights around her — a raccoon captain?? a tree?? — with avid green eyes over the rim of her coffee cup. Going to space — well, that's novel as hell. Going to space to fight space pirates? This is way better than mouldering away in a prison cell for simple self-defense.

And then the raccoon winks at her. Lorna blushes, even as she settles into the indicated chair and adjusts the strap — a lot. "Jeez, what kind of alien usually sits in this chair?"

Her question may or may not go unanswered, as it's about that time the ship's brave captain dials in the coordinates and makes the jump.


Groot may have been laughing behind his gaming device. He's holding it close to his face to cover it up, but it's not that difficult to tell it's in response to Pigeon-People. Or maybe it was for the description Atli makes of Agent Coulson.

Either way, he laughs because he's been amused.

It ends abruptly, however, when he glances over to see the wink exchange and blush between Rocket and Lorna.

So during the jump, he's subtly curious (or silently appalled) the whole time space happens.


Phil Coulson just looks terribly placid at Lorna's suspicious looks. Terribly, terribly placid. But then, he often does. He's all Cheshire Cat smiles. He treats this jaunt into space like it's the business of everyday for him. Maybe these days it kind of is. He sips his coffee and observes, eyebrows only faintly lifting as Rocket does the wink thing.

This is something he's never seen Rocket do.

"I am Groot," he comments to Groot. He's been trying so hard to learn the language. So, so hard. So hard to figure out what he's missing in all the inflections. He ends up saying: 'I am a green bean' which is not at all what he means to say. But as ever, he keeps right on making the effort, because it seems like the right thing to do.

It probably isn't. But it seems like it.


"The kind that likes sandwiches."

Atli replies to Lorna's question.

"A whoooole lot of sandwiches." Should Lorna sample her coffee, she will find the divine spirits of Asgard quite tasty, though just a sip is probably about as strong as half a bottle of vodka. Let us all hope the Magnet people can hold their space liquor. She sees Rocket wink too, of course, and assumes it's for her, beaming back at him as she roots around in a Taco Bell bag. "Groot, are their any more burritos left? I feel like we ordered perhaps ten or more and now they are all gone." Atli holds up an empty bag and then narrows her eyes at the tree, where normally she would blame the goat. But the goat is not here.

Before she can finish her inquisition starlight streaks in the viewport and the bag is knocked from her hand, the weight of the single taco within sending it spiraling backwards towards the aft hold.

"Verily, Son of Coul, you must curl your-"

That Atli is telling anyone how to speak anything is bullshit because she cheats by being a god and having Allspeech, and she really is no help at all. She doesn't get to finish, the ship jumping back to normal space with a lurch. it would seem the coordinates were accurate. Very accurate. A very large, very bulky ship is spiraling in space, debris drifting from it's hull. And there, attached like a parasite, is the unmistakable bird-themed wingspan of a Shi'ar ship that's seen better days. The identifying marks have been scoured away. It's been patched in dozens of places, and has a few extra weapons. It's perhaps twice the size of the Milano, which is why it's attached to the docking port.

"Verily, we may be to late. Those people need us! Rocket, can we fit in that bay?"

There is a bay with a life support field intact. It might be a tight squeeze, but the shuttles that used to sit in there were already launched, so there IS room, maybe. For the best pilot in the galaxy.


Wait, did she blush? And make fun of Quill even though technically she probably doesn't know who she is? Rocket likes her a lot more already. And then he grins wickedly, a cackle escaping him.

"HAHA! Oh man. This'll be great, hey- uh listen, so like don't even bother readjusting the straps on that seat later. It'll be fiiiine."

It's back to business once they reach their destination, and Rocket's just glad that it hadn't ended up with them smack in the middle of an asteroid field or a black hole. The sight before them does have him straighten in his seat a bit, eyes widening. "Whoa."

Those who know the raccoonoid can probably figure that he's mentally calculating how much he can make off of salvage and weapons. "Jackpot~" he says, that grin of his returning as he brings the ship in, head twitching slightly in Atli's direction. "What? Oh yeah. Easy!"

Well, at least he sounds confident, and he probably is as he swings the ship into a tight curve and then yanks abruptly on the steering yoke, giving a brief punch from the afterburners as he angles the Milano into the narrow-looking docking bay. He saw a move similar to it in one of them Terran movies once. Something about Furious Tokyo. And it was with a car but hey.


Lorna looks a little puzzled at Atli's reply (sandwiches?), and especially when Rocket tells her not to readjust the straps. But Atli is Atli, and Rocket — he's the captain! They ought to know what they're saying!

Poor, sweet summer child.

She's distracted, either way, by the divine mead of Asgard, which is really quite amazing. "Holy shit," she says after one sip. "This is dangerous." Maybe a little too dangerous, but whatever serious thoughts she might have been thinking about overly strong alcohol are soon driven from her mind as they arrive at their destination.

Lorna leans forward, green eyes a little wide, at the sight of the ship with its Shi'ar parasite. "I've… never tried this in space before," she muses, transparently curious, before she reaches forward with a frown, green light spinning around her hand, to guide some of the pieces of debris away from the docking bay and clear their approach.

She blinks a moment later. "…it's easier in space."


"I am Groot!" Groot physically winces at Coulson's attempt in speaking Groot, his own tone obviously rude in his reply. If anyone really tries, they can probably sense lingering teenage embarrassment. First Rocket, now Coulson — he's glad Quill isn't here to add to it. Any more of these incidents and he'll opt to wither away while he has the chance.

Plus whatever Atli is asking about burritos is either purposefully ignored or lost in the rattling noise of the Milano as it takes the pressure and force of speed against its metal body. Because he certainly did not eat almost thirteen burritos by himself without waiting for the Asgardian, no siree bob.

The tail end of a belch is mild in comparison to the shuddering arrival at their destination. Groot leans forward in his seat to get a better view of the ship in question, his mouth gaping slightly when the debris is magically pushed away. He knows Rocket is good at piloting, but that? That's different. As far as he knows, none of the people on board associated with the Guardians can do that.

…Except for their new 'friend' who is doing things with her green-lit hands. That alone is earning back some points with him.

"I am Groot," comes a stage-whisper, maybe in hushed awe that fights with the teenage indifference he's instilled for so long.

Coulson holds up his hands in surrender at Groot. "My apologies."

But there's work to be done now. He puts on one of the space suits, now very much as if he's old hat at it for all that he's only done it once. He brought his own rifle along, a sleek SHIELD thing that looks like it may have been reverse-engineered from someone else's alien tech, redone with Terran parts. The result is a little bit odd looking, but probably servicable enough. The tiny pistol Rocket gave him remains a sidearm at his ankle. He's not sure he wants to see what that thing does in zero-G, if there is indeed no gravity in there.


The bright look on Atli's face at his delightful cackle lifts her brows, and when Lorna seems to agree with the little boost to her drink. It of course brings her attention to the Magnet Person beside her, and she settles back against her own seat as if it's no big deal. Missing all of the various signals shot anywhere but towards herself she comments to Lorna, her own flirting attempt given with all her usual skill. "Yes, well, danger is in the blood of all things Asgardian. Not that the spirits are made of blood. What I mean is, we're all very much so into danger. Both being dangerous, and rushing into danger, you see. And now your cheeks are a little red, which is quite deligh-" But then there is green energy. The light of it reflects in her eyes as the debris begins to drift away, pushed by the impossible power of the Queen of Magnets.

"Verily," Atli begins, her voice stricken with the same awe as Groot's. "…it is as if you belong here."

The lurching of the Milano pushes them all back in their seats, and Atli's face is a picture of rapture as Fair Rocket expertly makes the run towards the docking bay and sets them down. None of the cargo crates in the docking bay even get knocked over!

That done, Atli unbuckles her harness and scoops up her spear. "We must hurry. There's no telling what these pirates are doing to the A'askvariian refugees on this ship!"

That's right, at least one person could read the markings on the outside. Who knows, maybe they'll run into Quill's old girlfriend. "Now remember, should we encounter any Shi'ar, Lady Lorna is our secret weapon. She has control over magnets, and should be able to confuse their birdish brains so that they can no longer tell north from south, which should give us the upper hand."

Atli's master stroke revealed, she stops to squeeze Coulson on the arm, and gives him a steely look. "After we are done here, I have some messages from the shark women of Mars that Gorax returned with my raven. I did not read them, but I understand they are important."

And then Atli hits the ramp controls, strolls into the hangar bay (which thankfully is pressurized and does have gravity), and scratches her head before looking around.


"Nah, this is normal," Rocket informs Lorna upon her observations of- oh, was she talking about the drink? Well, that's kinda part of the norm too, now. And then the green lady's making with more green, and her efforts make for a lot smoother a path in than he'd braced for. He's still sure he could've handled it himself, but inwardly he's a little impressed. So that's what Atli's magnet-babble was all about.

Rocket certainly looks smug as he powers down the ship. He casts Lorna a grin, unfastening his harness and hopping down to get himself geared up. "So I don't think I caught your name," he mentions to the green-haired wonder, even as he tosses her an aero-rig disk and a space suit generator, with an added, "Just in case."

Then he grabs his weapons after putting his own jetpack on, fitting grenades and things into his belt pouches before grabbing a large rifle with decidedly sharklike features, sliding a hand across it fondly, which probably looks altogether disturbing when paired with the eager grin.

"Make sure you got everything, Groot. And I hope you pee'd before we left," he adds, waving the treenager along as he stops by the ramp, waiting for the others to file out after Atli.

[OOC] Atli says, "Also, would everyone be okay with pausing at the end of this round? I can figure out a time later this week for us to continue, and confront the Pigeon people. Not Jessica Jones, for clarification. The Power Pigeon is different."


Lorna doesn't quite seem aware that Atli is flirting, which probably says something about the quality of said flirting. In fact, she mostly looks a little bewildered at the long ramble about danger in its various forms. "I'm more of a fan of the being dangerous part, myself," she essays. "It tends to keep danger from finding you."

Not that Lorna isn't without her own sense of adventure and — dare we say — rushing into danger. She's also frankly curious to try out her powers in space; she's been studying up on physics, and the potential interactions of her abilities up here are fascinating to contemplate. She's already finding it much easier to shift metal when she doesn't have Earth's gravity to contend with. The awe from her companions brings out a grin on her features. "It's nice to see people impressed by it, for once," she says, with a faint mote of bitterness.

As they land, Lorna unbuckles (and remembers not to readjust the strap!). "Name's Lorna," says the owner of said name, catching the disk and suit generator as Rocket tosses them over. "Lorna Dane. That was some neat flying, Captain Rocket."

Captain Rocket forever. Whenever Quill turns up, Lorna will be eternally confused why he keeps saying HE'S the captain. Especially when Rocket is over there, all covered in impressive weapons.

Lorna herself doesn't grab any weapons. She herself is the weapon, as Atli notes — albeit not quite in the way Lorna would have put it. "Magnetism," she says, trailing after Atli as she disembarks. "And I'd — probably do a bit more than confuse their directional senses."


Another harness unfastens simultaneously as the others are free to walk, Groot joining them with a saunter in his step. He grabs for the nearest pack, shoving his game inside of it with a few more of the raccoonoid's grenades. And, after a pause, he slips the piece of driftwood in as well.

Why, though? Superstition? No, not that he believes in superstitions at his age. That would be dumb.

One last check and the treenager goes stomping on by, a pointed "I am Groot…!" thrown in Rocket's direction as he picks up an aero-rig disk on the way out.


There are times when Phil wears the most long-suffering Dad look. Some of the banter, like Rocket grousing that the tree had better have peed…just puts it on his face. Just like that. But if he seems quiet, it is because he is focused. He certainly doesn't pipe up with any grand objections about anything that might happen to Shi'ar pirates. He'd said they might be brought to justice, but they might just as well end up a bleeding mess on the floor. If he's going to roll with this crew for anything or for any reason, it pays to leave one's pickiness on the landing pad, and he's not a particularly picky man.

He does aside to Lorna: "That's going to end up being about as much planning as we do. There's no point doing very much. If you're the type that likes to plan."

He just figures he'd best handle the Orientation to the madcap madness that is adventuring with any of the Guardians, especially with Atli leading the charge.

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