[She doesn't need anymore incentive than that. Extending her hand sharply, she forms a glyph and sends a circuit coursing to it, feeling the slight chill in her fingertips as the energy gathers, is processed by both her will and words unintelligible even through the communicator; soft and chiming, practically melodic]
[The air before her cools over and freezes into several wickedly edged darts that shoot right off like bullets; aimed so that even if Diva does nothing at all, most will stab harmlessly into the wall behind her, only several would even barely graze her. She's less concerned about the state of the room-- which is near a write-off as is anyways-- and more about the body that "Diva" is using]