Not-So-Abandoned Warehouse: Sunday

[badassprodigy]

Thanks to a robotic arm and hand with a laser pointer, Cheryls ocelot was now being properly entertained and less likely to attack visitors and Barry himself.

Not that Barry wasn't taking his eyes off the ocelot. He'd had enough scratches thank you very much.

And in between monitoring his experiments, Barry was cleaning up the spots where Boudou had marked her territory.

"Not enough fucking tufted ears in this world to make this fun."

[Open for SP]

Comments

[notaweenie.livejournal.com]

Barry's eyebrows went up a little bit at that.

"I think you have a longer story to tell me about this," he replied. "But yeah, sub, plane, fucking rocketship. Whatever. I can do that for you."

[nobloodymessiah.livejournal.com]

"It's not a very cheerful story," Eleanor said. "I don't know what I'd need. It may be utterly pointless."

Eight months had passed. Grace might well be dead, by now.

"But ... thank you."

[notaweenie.livejournal.com]

"Well I've always wanted to build a sub," Barry said lightly. Or at least trying to be light. It seemed like there was a need for lightness in this conversation. "Just tell me when you need it by and I'll have it ready for you. Or... well if it's a rescue mission then you'll probably need other equipment. GPS trackers. Body armor. Head-up displays. Tasers. Stealth cloak."

Yes. He's making a list, Eleanor.