Re: Briar's Apartment; Reece and Briar
The quick flare shot of Briar's words, echoing his own, didn't really insult Reece. He laughed a little awkwardly and kind of made an 'oh, shit!' face, but he didn't say anything else. It was the same seconds later when the small, spiky woman lobbed more words at him. To appease her, he raised both hands in a pantomime of surrender, but again, kept his trap shut. He wasn't normally very good at that, but he would've been distracted either way, because before he knew it, Briar had his arm and she was fiddling with it and dipping toward him as if inspiring by invisible mistletoe.
Another nervous laugh, a lot more blushing, and so much hope that he wouldn't have to see his elbow. He had a nice coat on and fabrics didn't like the unnatural turn of joint any more than Reece did. (He didn't. They didn't.) "I'm not exactly aiming at things? Right now? But, maybe in the future. I'll take that into, um, advisement. For when I am. Aiming." He smiled. "I wouldn't really suggest going bionic. It has its own set of limitations. EMPs, for example." It sounded like this wasn't Reece's first time dissuading the overenthusiastic, but he humored the woman, right up until she talked about negating blood. He had no idea what that... meant? "I have no idea what that... means? Can you negate blood?"
Reece followed the woman, trailing by a feet steps, his real hand (gloved) holding his bionic arm by the wrist. It was a recent habit he didn't remember gaining, but there you go. He looked around her space with some interest and nosiness, placing his steps carefully, and—most importantly—not touching anything. She didn't have to tell him twice. Much like wanting to avoid electrocution, he wanted to avoid both combustion and implosion.
"Uhhh, so what is this thing for Cat, anyway?" His question came innocently enough, and he smiled, very youthful, at Briar's back as he skirting something that blinked and hummed and smelled like oil. "Is it a bomb?"