Clarion smirked under his mask. Rangy as he was, his greyhound body and long arms were well-suited to this kind of thing. "Extreme!" he said as he launched himself out the same window, landing on his wheels. Good momentum, he began rolling right away, picking up speed.

He stretched out his long arms above him, easily grabbing the bottom rung of the rusted old ladder, maybe eight feet above the ground. There was the hiss of his wheels as they left the cracked concrete. The two antique Rollerblades arced through the air, coming parallel to and then above Clarion's head, then coming to rest on the deck of the escape. Clarion dug his front wheels into the rusted metal, pushed up with his hands, finally coming to rest in a pushup position on the deck of the fire escape. The acrobatics had been showy and wholly unnecessary, he knew. It would have been much easier to simply climb the ladder than do the little horizontal bar routine. But he was in to good of a mood. Besides, he didn't want Dodger to think he wouldn't pull his own weight. 

Without waiting for approval for his gymnastics, Clarion whispered to Dodger. "So how do we handle this commission? You want to paint or stand guard?" Clarion shrugged. "Either one's fine with me."