[hr][hr][center][color=bf7300][b]Watts // Landon[/b][/color]
[color=598527][sub][b]LOCALE[/b] // Outskirts of the Dungeon
[b]TIME[/b] // Afternoon (current)[/sub][/color][/center][hr][hr]

The next few moments were a blur for Landon as he saw Graves throw a thundering punch at Mirage, saw her feet shift in preparation to dodge and her eyes recoil from the sheer hurt thrown at her by the tank's foul words - and saw Hawkwood, that gallant fool, step forward to intercede.  The party hadn't even made it to the dungeon, and disaster was going to tear it apart.

Fortunately, Landon was a fool too.  Plus Mirage was pretty hot.

His hand flicked to the quiver on his belt as he slid forward across the smooth grass with a broad motion that startled Hawkwood back enough to keep the knight from getting in the way.  His other hand hooked briefly around Mirage's waist and pulled her to him, hip-to-hip, as he sidestepped her out of the way of the punch.  He jabbed himself with the cylindrical tip of the bolt a split-second before-

POW!

Torn from his tentative grasp of Mirage, the punch took him straight in the face (to the surprise of Graves, who hadn't actually expected to hit anything with the punch).  His legs seemed to shoot out from under him as he fell, more like he had run into Graves's fist than the other way around.  He hit the ground with a thud.  The odd part was that he could feel the sensation of being struck, of hitting the ground, but somehow...it didn't actually *hurt.*  Which was lucky, because that's exactly what he counted on happening.  If it hadn't worked...well.  He was just glad it [i]had[/i] worked, and that he hadn't been wearing his goggles on his face at the time.

Before anyone could react in the stunned silence that followed, Landon sprang up to his feet and tossed away his smushed cigarette - the primary casualty of the punch - with an annoyed flick of his fingers.  "Cool yer jets, you two," he half-growled as he turned a scolding glare at Graves - and a wink at Mirage - before he lit up another cig and stuck it into his lips.  "Save it for the monsters.  You guys can beat each other up all you like [i]after[/i] we beat this dungeon!"

There was a large bruise on Landon's face, but as the group watched - and as Elian darted toward him, Graves and Mirage - the bruise faded away until his face was unmarred.  Landon measured their reactions and couldn't hide the smirk that came to his face-

SMACK!

"Hey!  What was that for?"  Landon rubbed the back of his head where Elian had just whacked him with an open palm.  He hardly felt it thanks to the jolt of magic from the bolt, but the indignity of it was enough for him to react.

"For showing off, that's what!"

"Spoilsport," grumbled Landon.  Elian moved toward Graves and Mirage with a huff.

"So, why aren't you dead, again?" asked Vulcan, who had woken up a little at the violence and yelling, but was already slipping back into his dozing even as he stood there.

Landon pulled another crossbow bolt out of his quiver and held it up for the group to see.  The bolt was tipped with a cylinder, capped with metal on both ends, and the middle had three distinct layers of glowing light - red, blue, and green.  "Custom buff infusion," he explained.  "Red for strength, blue for tougher skin, and green for regeneration.  The metal caps conduct magic energy, so when it hits you, the magic gets pumped into you, no needles, no fuss.  It works through armor, too, and gives you about a minute before the enhancement wears off."

The gadgeteer slipped the bolt back into its case.  The pleasure of getting to demonstrate his genius was dulled by the intensity of the fierce words that had led up to it; and though he had drawn attention away from it, he could tell by the way Elian moved that the incident wasn't over yet.