The idea of Juno ever becoming a time traveling steel-boned robot had Juno cackling. Then again, the motorcycle and the leather weren't bad. Plus, how many wells of lava could she really fall into? She squeezed Marco's hand in return. "Thanks, Sarah Connor. Or would that make you John Connor? Hey you're the Chosen One or whatever!"
There was a number of colorful things she called Simms on a daily basis then chided herself for spending such colorful vocabulary on a piece of shit like that. For now, The Motherfuckerest seemed to have gained a special place in her heart. When Marco pulled away from her she instantly opened her eyes wide, flexing her hand at the lack of his own where it had been just a second ago. Frowning, Juno watched him move, and punch Oliver in the arm. An all-encompassing, heartfelt FUCK resounded within her and she turned to lie on her belly, elbows bent so her chin was supported by her hands. "It's never for you, Stitch. I know prisons scare you. But prisons are only for motherfuckers and you're not a motherfucker. You don't qualify."
She shot Oliver a glance as if to ask for help, since last time it hadn't gone so well where she was concerned.