"Feigning ignorance will not help you, mage," Elyssa stated, "You will come with me, and you shall answer what I ask."
The Warmonger then hefted up the man while flooding the Gate Rune with mana. The ease pf phasing through barriers depends entirely on the wall's densit and thickness; the concrete walls of the building, while not hard exactly, will require some work.
With that, Elyssa approached the building's exterior, captive in hand...
Adjutor sighs, resigning himself to the current situation, when he realizes that the robot/golem is heading for a wall.
You're kidding, right?After all the trouble we go to in an attempt to not break into what could potentially be someone's house, this happens?I'm going to be perfectly honest here, I didn't imagine we'd be breaking one of our own resolutions so quickly.Like we have a choice in the matter!Won't matter to the person whose house you're being taken into.Maybe nobody lives here....Adjutor, remind me, when was the last time we were that lucky?Fuck you, Xarrest. Fuck you.How? We're in the same body.God damn i- Hey, that's a pretty nice rune.At this point, Adjutor notices the flow of mana into the rune, taking a moment to strain his eyes to attempt to get a good look at the rune. He manages, though having to look through the mana generator- wait what?!
Something else of interest, then...Adjutor takes a moment to commit the rune to temporary memory, to be written down later along with what he could discern of the manor's boundary fields. He then looks over the mana generator, trying to see what he can discern of its function, having nothing better to do right now.
EMIYA SHIROU
Shirou merely sighed, deciding it would be best to not question Law’s sudden need for booze while Forest yelled at the other cars to drive around.
“That is enough Mia. Ride with Forest,” Shirou said in his simple English, frowning down at the young girl. He remembered how much Illya would have benefited from learning to respect her elders... not that he actually was her elder, but still.
The freelancer popped the door open and sat himself in the driver’s seat, taking a moment to familiarize himself with the gearshift and pedals. He was no stranger to driving, although he had never owned a car of his own. He traveled across oceans far too often for that. Carefully bringing the Firebird back within its lane, Shirou waited for the blond vampire to pull in front for him to follow.
Watching Forest's Camero pull out, Lawrence took another deep draft of rum. The burn of alcohol helped distract him from the chill of the air. "You want some?" He proffered the bottle to Shirou, in another gesture of goodwill. In reality, he wanted to down the whole thing.
I'm surprised you turned down sex with Death herself.
I'm not drunk enough yet. Or ever.
Henderson is still cruising through the city at slightly less breakneck speed, car still billowing impossible amounts of smoke, when he decides he's gotten a bit thirsty. Not long after this realization hits, yet another strikes with just as much force. The cars in front of him aren't moving out of the way as politely as they were before. For that matter, they weren't moving at all.
Henderson slams on the brakes, then flips a switch that opens the trunk and all the doors when he decides he's not decelerating fast enough. The drag provided by all of this manages to slow the Buick down to reasonable speeds as he slows to a stop, using the respite to pop open the glove box and remove one of the two massive bottles of Caribbean rum he'd purchased on his ride home, but never got around to drinking. The bottles, nestled in the space that should've been occupied by his license and registration, twinkle invitingly at him, but alas, he can only drink one.
The line gets moving again, soon revealing the cause of the hold-up: one shiny Firebird, occupied by two young punks, one of them some kind of edgy Goth, judging by the terrible dye job.
On a day not so weed-filled as this, Henderson might have shouted something at them. As it was, Henderson reached out the vacant window to make some vaguely insulting hand gesture, but the rum was ca- wait what?
Upon closer inspection of his now empty hand, Henderson realizes that his hand gestures caused the bottle of rum to leave his hands, sail across the space dividing the two cars, and land firmly in the passenger-side punk's lap, with the bottle's momentum allowing to sail through the window undamaged. Henderson briefly considers going back for it, but decides that the alcohol would do those kids some good, instead pulling the second bottle out as he peels off, still considering turning for the night as he flips another switch to close the doors and the trunk once more.
