That's an adequate descriptor of the sound that comes from within the lab. "Who the fuck put that there?!" Odessa has teleported in...
...to a rolling cabinet from the sounds of it.
The blonde comes stumbling down the stairs with one hand pressed to her brow. "You rearranged," she remarks, accusatory. She's also got a line of blood down the side of her face, originating from somewhere beneath her palm. "I think I got hit in the head. How are you with stitches?" Then she grins.
no subject
That's an adequate descriptor of the sound that comes from within the lab. "Who the fuck put that there?!" Odessa has teleported in...
...to a rolling cabinet from the sounds of it.
The blonde comes stumbling down the stairs with one hand pressed to her brow. "You rearranged," she remarks, accusatory. She's also got a line of blood down the side of her face, originating from somewhere beneath her palm. "I think I got hit in the head. How are you with stitches?" Then she grins.
"I got video of it. It was wicked." Priorities.