Who: Lena Hadaly and Leonard Shelton What: Working on her Pandora armor, pre-cure-clusterfuck. When: 10 PM, June 24. Where: Leonard's private laboratory, outside New Waverly. Warnings: Irritation, language, sexual tension.
At least the inside of this armor prototype did not make Lena feel like she had just crawled into the living flames of Hell, she thought idly, flexing her fingers on command for at least the twenty-seventh time. There was a vague, strange sensation in her fingertips; it came with the rhythmic tapping sounds that LJ was making against the armor.
"Are you sure this is necessary?" The voice was not Lena's. That is, it did not sound like that of the leggy blonde that basically kept the wheels of LJ's life turning. This voice had been modulated dozens of times, run through a dozen or more programs to disguise it, and sounded perfectly bland and pleasant – the voice of a computer. The voice she might have had, she supposed, if she had never left LJ's network. "Because I am somewhat skeptical. I believe I've pointed out before that I feel no need for armor. It does not suit my position in the grand scheme of things."
Lena's fingers twitched again in response to the odd tingling in them. "I've observed that people in armor seemed to be shot at or otherwise attacked at a much higher rate than those without armor, who look rather like they're minding their own business in the comfort and privacy of their own homes..."